Chapter Twelve - Heat

The air was cool. It carried with it the scent of fresh dew on grass. All around the world had not yet fully woken. The birds were quiet, and even the insects lay still.

One being stirred, having experienced a very rough night. The makeshift bed he slept on having been anything but comfortable. Furthermore a dull pain woke him, having rolled over on his stomach in the early morn which put pressure on his stumpy arm.

"Ouch!" He yelled out, shooting up in his shelter, nearly toppling the delicate frame in the process. He steadied himself with his one hand and looked out and around. The sun had not risen fully in the East, it's golden tendrils peaking above the plains in the distance. It let just the trendiest amount of light escape into the otherwise dark night sky, allowing just enough so that Alder could see the landscape.

His stomach spurred him onward. He was hungry. Very much so. He had not eaten since breakfast the day before and a mild headache began to form.

Searching around in the grass nearby he found his sharpened stick, or his "fishing spear" and made his way down to the riverbank to test his luck.

The early morning must have been the height of activity in the river for he easily spotted three large trout within one minute. "Yes... I'm going to get one..." he told himself, readying the spear in his right hand as he crept into the water.

It wasn't very deep and the current was slow enough that he didn't need to worry about falling. "Clunk!" He plunged the spear, missing a large fish by a hairs breadth, cursing under his breath. The other fish nearby swam off but after a minute returned to the settled water.

He readied it again, inching slowly the stick over a large trout before he shot it down quick. "Stab!" Successfully he punctured the fish, pulling the spear out excitedly a moment later to toss it on the riverbank. The fish nearly came off and he dashed out of the water to retrieve it, scurrying on one hand to catch the squirming trout.

He snatched it by it's mouth, keeping a firm grasp as he ripped it off the spear. "Yes!" He said out loud, making his way back to the willow tree where he whacked it against the side of the tree hard, making the wriggling fish go limp. He set it down on a log nearby and produced a knife, proceeding to fillet the fish.

Minutes passed and it was ready to be cooked. The hard part was fire. Alder struggled the day before to start any sort of flame with his one hand. He was weaker the next day from his hunger and exhaustion and worried about being able to get one lit.

Scrummaging around in the grass he found some wood and tinder easy enough, and set about trying to get a small campfire again.

An hour passed... then two... and it seemed like it wasn't going to happen. He had been trying to use friction with a stick but couldn't put enough force to light the tinder.

After a while he admitted defeat and stared longingly at the fish nearby. Eventually his stomach took over and he tore into the fish raw. The flavor was awful, and the texture was worse. It was extremely chewy and very very fishy tasting. It made him gag. But he got through it and relished in the feeling of a full stomach.

The world looked a little less bleak then. He felt like he could rest for a moment and not worry about dying or starving. He stared off at the city in the distance. Grey stone. With it's high walls and business beyond. A part of him longed to be there. And he wondered if he would get to see it again.

The old man crossed his mind then and the strange shop, and he turned to the knapsack lying in the dirt near his makeshift shelter. "Aah the book..." he thought to himself. He took it out carefully from the bag and studied it more thoroughly.

No cover text, or anything on the binding either. The pages themselves seemed ancient, to match the cracked surface of the book. He carefully opened it, unsure which was the front or back. He saw he had it right way up when he was met with a page that had a large title handwritten in black ink that said: "The Corporeal Path"

Alder was confused, "What does that mean?" He turned the page and was shocked to see a spell at the top of the page. He knew what it was by the stories. His father told him that spells written down glowed a faint blue color, and the single line of text at the top of the page did just that, "Aaraf nafsik" it said.

He immediately said the words out loud, stumbling over it and was saddened when nothing happened. He decided then to keep reading:

"Sense Self. The cornerstone of All Magic. This is true even for when you will not be able to use any. For it is this spell that has ramifications beyond simply feeling the mana within your body. In refinement and development it can sense others too, and allow you to dive deeper into your own body and soul to refine your control of your motor skills, your senses, your organs, down to your thoughts and mana. Chant it with intention and thusly know it well. practice it a hundred times daily, until you can sense not just the mana within you but every part of your body from your organs to your blood, your muscles and your bones.Only then will you be able to turn the page."

Alder sat back, feeling a bit excited. The old man in Grey Stone had given him something truly special. He wasn't quite sure what It all meant but he could tell it was powerful. Something that ordinary people wouldn't have access to. It gave him hope. An odd sort of hope that he, too, would be able to be someone.

He tried turning the page but found it wouldn't budge. Instead, when he closed the book it shot up a few feet in the air, hovering for a moment. He was taken aback by the magical tome. It just sat there suspended for a moment before it rushed towards him and shot through his forehead and disappeared.

He looked around, stunned, before in the back of his mind he could see it. It was almost like it had taken a spot in his consciousness, where if he focused on it it would appear within his hands then disappear the moment he wanted it to.

Alder trembled visibly, his body shaking with excitement and hope for the future. He calmed down after a minute and faced reality again. He needed to try to make a fire again, and one fish wasn't going to keep his stomach full forever. Certainly not if he kept eating them raw. It was a sure fire way to end up in an early grave.

He chanted, "aaraf nafsik" with intention, and again nothing happened, but he didn't give up. Alder began to get to work on trying to start a fire again, all the while chanting away at the supposedly rudimentary spell, hoping

for something to happen eventually.

...

Feet fell fast on worn cobblestone. They knew the path through the throngs of people and around the dark alleyways. They moved with intention, with a sense of urgency common to them.

"Stop girl! And we will have mercy!" A male voice called. She didn't though, knowing full well that at the very least she would lose a hand, at worst her life. Such was the way for thieves.

She huffed as she turned a corner down a narrow courtyard. The small sack of apples under her arm were starting to grow heavy but she cling to them for dear life. She held on with all the fervor of a half starved child.

She dodged around a set of outside tables and proceeded to climb up the scaffolding of a building, with all the agility of a cat. It helped she was young, not even 9, and she had been living on the streets by herself for years.

Her matted black hair flowed in the wind as she scrambled up and up. She looked down just once to see the guards below readying stones to throw, to which she simply moved faster.

Before long she was on the roof of the shop, and began jumping from roof to roof. She didn't need to go far before she lost the two buffoons and was free to slow down.

She sat on the edge of a roof for a small shop and hung her legs over the edge, setting the bag of apples next to her. Below was the Main Street of Grey Stone. People were moving about in the mid day sun. Traders in their fine garb and personal guards, to the merchants of the town selling anything and everything. Travelers and adventurers and common folk all passed each other, mostly avoiding contact and moving on their way. Everyone had some place to be.

The city and it's people always put a smile on her face. Evelyn was born to a poor family in Grey Stone. Her father died as a soldier for the kingdom and her mother, turned prostitute, died of sickness when she was 7. Since then she lived on the streets, stealing and sleeping in abandoned buildings to get by.

Her life was hard but she got by and made the best of it. She reached over and produced a large red apple and bit into it, enjoying the sweet crunch and the cool juice in her mouth. As she continued to snack on the apples she spotted a group of swordsmen in Grey moving down the street. They stopped every child they saw and an old man would put a hand on their foreheads before moving on.

The rumor of the phenomenon had spread through the city like a plague. They said that one of the nobles was looking for an aspiring mage, which was why the old man tested everyone he saw for magic ability. She avoided them. She didn't trust the nobles or anyone that worked for them.

If a noble wanted anything from you it wasn't for any good reason.That much was certain from all the stories of people being taken into slavery, or girls being used to pleasure the wretched noble men.

She tossed the apple core off the roof and watched it fall and hit a passing adventurer on the head. He turned in his metal armor to see where it came from before shrugging and turning back to wherever he was going.

Evelyn laughed and stood up, shouldering the apples as she looked up at the clouds in the deep blue sky. She smiled, the smile of a survivor, of someone who knew their place in the world and enjoyed it regardless. "Right... On to the next" she said, taking a deep breath as she ran. She ran hard towards the edge of the building and leapt the three feet gap over onto a floral shops roof.

Much like the people down below she had places to be, had things to do. Her feet carried her onward, ever forward, to the next target to steal from or the next spot in the city to see. She couldn't stop... Not for too long... Life wasn't going to let her idle the day away.