Chapter 2: Chapter 2 Sala

It was a cold morning in the cozy little village of Tuk. The morning rays of light were fingering their way over the Sea of Bas with the radiant sun just cresting the horizon. Droplets of dew covered the clay shingles of buildings along with anything else left undisturbed. Surrounded by a dense forest, the village was beginning to show signs of life as children ran through the streets smacking stick on pans.

Tuk was a fishing village located on the edge of Essillo, the name of their unique city state. Many hours before light, the men would wake from their drunken slumbers and mosey their way into starting the day. It would take nearly an hour just to travel down to the sea level by means of an enormous magical elevator. The lift would place its passengers and their cargo on a floating dock tied off to a gargantuan stone root snaking down from high above. A hundred feet in diameter, the thousands of roots grew around the circumference of the floating island just shy of two hundred miles across at its longest point. This created a cage protecting any of those who wished a life at sea from the worst the sea of monsters had to offer.

Essillo was the sole home to the Scholar race, known mostly for three things. First, they are astonishingly tall; the average Scholar would stretch many hands higher than even the tallest of humans. Secondly, they appeared to have little to no body fat. This pairing with their height made for a race looking as if a human was taken and stretched. With appendages comparable to their height, they would look very much like humans but only from a distance. The third and more important aspect of the unique race was their innate affinity for Arcane and Death magics. The few Scholars who escaped their prison home would have left tales in the lands they visited telling of their magical prowess.

Sixth street flowed along the edges of the cliff where the wealthy merchants and nobility owned summer homes whose year-round staff only saw its residence a few weeks each year. The children played through the cobbled streets antagonizing a cornucopia of sky eels and residence alike with thin sticks and pans. The remains of Tuk were quaint homes and fishing markets selling tchotchkes and fish alike. The children spent their days gawking at the mansions and learning their spell craft or trade craft in order to continue the simple lives their parents had before them.

Deep in the forest, the foggy morning and slick wet leaves suddenly grew hot. The fog swirled up in a near invisible tornado, sucking the air up and drying the foliage. As the air grew even hotter it began to snap with unrestrained energy in the form of red lightning. A few unlucky shrubs hiding below the trees had caught fire along with any unfortunate critter caught in the wake of the magical event. Only lasting for a few moments, a swirling sphere of red goop and the void itself shimmered into existence. The heat continued to build until the trees and even the ground caught fire.

A man stepped out, his immaculate red robes catching fire immediately. As he exited the portal, the muddy material lost its colors and fell to the ground in a gushing splash and sizzling peals. The burning cloth covering his body had no effect on the man’s skin, and as the fires around him died, he studied his surroundings. He was what you would describe as an average man through and through. With more gaunt facial features, the man was not striking in any way except for one thing. His brown hair and average physic would make him completely forgettable in any town except for where there should be eyes, lied smooth and unbroken skin.

The man took a deep breath and grinned a sharklike grin.

“Time to go.”

“Sala, pay attention.” Her instructor ordered.

Sala was staring out the window in her personal tutor’s office again. She couldn’t help the feeling that something was trying to speak to her, but she just couldn’t hear.

“Sala!”

The ruler came down on her hand sending spikes of pain up her arm. Sala winced and focused as her instructor glared daggers. She was only thirteen, and as the tears wanted to well up, she was unwilling to show any weakness in front of this grouch.

Each morning, Sala had lessons with a variety of instructors studying the fundamentals of magic. Whenever a Wind Speaker was born on Essillo, a powerful elemental tutor would be tasked to handle their more in-depth training personally. Over a thousand years of trial and error, it was concluded not to move the Wind Speaker. The teacher would be forced to move from their homes in order to live nearby the child. Keeping them close to friends and family made it more likely for their training to be completed without disaster, and if one were to occur, it was likely to happen in a provincial town and not one of the main cities. In the many eons the Scholars have lived on Essillo, no Wind Speaker has been born in Zet’ine, the Scholar capital city, or any city of comparable size. Though the Wind Speakers that survived childhood grew to be the most powerful beings on the mecca, the majority of the population would live lives of anxiety knowing one with such overwhelming power lived among them.

Sala’s instructor was an old man by the name of Targan. A Water Dancer, he was the closest thing to someone who can help Sala come to terms with her immense power. He was a well-known professor in Zet’ine and a former hero. When he was forced to move to Tuk in order to oversee her training, Targan quickly grew to resent her. He knew logically that it was not her fault, but for the next decade, he would be trapped in a town he saw unworthy for him to spit on. Perhaps when they begin combative training, she may get killed out in the Wildands; he did not want that to happen, but he had to admit to himself that it wouldn’t be all bad.

Targan looked down at the steadfast girl and his normally strict expression soften, but only slightly.

“Sala… You must pay attention. I cannot have you fail. If you fail, then I fail, and I will not have that.” He explained to the child. “Now pay attention.”

Sala nodded.

“Now name for me the schools of elemental magic.” He asked.

Sala sat there and thought for a moment.

“Wind Speaker and Water Dancer. Umm… there are the Fire… Fire Breather and… I don’t remember the one for earth.” She admitted after racking her mind.

“They are referred to as Atlas, though most just call them Earth Users. I do not blame you for not remembering. The last Atlas born on Essillo was near a thousand years ago.” He paused, face becoming grim, but whatever he was thinking about passed as quickly as it came. “Good, you have been listening, a bit. Now, what are the arcane schools of magic?” Targan asked.

“Oh, there is Holy which are limited to healing. Necromancers, they commune with the dead. And then there are the Wizards that deal with actual arcane magic. Lastly, there is Cultivation or the Shamans, they do some funky stuff.” She said feeling proud.

“Explain.”

“Well, Cultivation is all about growing. Most would infer that as healing or farming, though it can go in other ways also. Other ways like cultivating viruses and other damage-based abilities.” She explained.

Targan nodded his head.

“You know the stories of Mikhail the Ender?” He asked.

“Of course! He is the most popular hero in Scholar history.” She said scoffing.

“Well, do you know what school of magic he was gifted in?” He asked in the same scoffing attitude.

Sala was about to answer, then realized that she did not know. She had read every single book on Mikhail the Ender. She was now realizing that in all the stories of battles and powers he had, it never narrowed down a school of magic.

Targan smiled knowingly.

“Well, Mikhail was one of Cultivation. He was specialized in afflictions, though healing does come natural to almost all the shamans. Do you know of his origins?” he asked.

Sala shook her head. The stories were just of his exploits, defending cities and towns from monsters and invaders. There was even the story of a Kraken growing large enough to reach the surface of Essillo, and he had blasted the monster from the face of the earth. She did not believe that was true, she had seen a kraken before. Though they were leviathans, she did not think one could grow large enough to reach Essillo.

“He grew up in a town named Mink’Yol. Don’t bother trying to remember the town, it was destroyed nearly five hundred years ago; one of Mikhails failures I am afraid to say. He was a farmer and grew up in a family of farmers. He showed aptitude for other forms of shaman magic and so they sent him out to be trained. But that goes to show that not all the heroes: Terb the Fireheart, Thetarla Nevermiss, Morhazar the Dark, aren’t all from Zet’ine. You know that no Wind Speaker has ever been born in a major city?” He asked.

Sala nodded.

“There are many speculations on why this is, but the study of such things is forbidden. The worst trained Wind Speaker is more powerful than ten Mikhails, Terbs, Thetarlas and Morhazars put together. Do you want to be a poorly trained Wind Speaker?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then… Pay… Attention…” he said emphasizing each work by smacking his palm.

She nodded with more vigor; she would not be remembered in vain.

“I am stuck in this awful home of yours.” Targon said disgustedly. “At least we can make something wonderful of you. If you can learn properly, you can singly handedly protect all of Essillo. But this comes with a cavate, I cannot train you properly as the forms of magic are not intertwined. I am only here because I also come from an Elemental form of magic, the rarest forms of magic. For every thousand arcane users, there is just one elemental. That is why I am here, I can help you with the fundamentals in your magic control as the broad strokes are similar across the elements, but the similarities end there. We could have seemingly the same spell, but the manipulation and execution can be completely different. I could teach you how to use your wind magic as well as dog could teach you geometry.” He continued to lecture. “You may be asking yourself why I am here then If I cannot teach you the specifics. Well, you will find that other than combative techniques, I will teach you mindsets and mantras that will help you learn for yourself.”

Thinking of her instructor always threw Sala’s young mind into turmoil. At times, he appeared to be looking into her own best interest, spiteful but still helpful. His inconsistency would upset her stomach, but she did see that he was helping her as best he could. Could it be because he was a devoted teacher and yet found himself unable to help her as much as he wished? He seemed to want her to grow up powerful but was that for his own gain?

“Sala!” he said slapping her hand again.

“Sorry Professor Targan.” She said in a squeaky voice while rubbing her hand.

“You girl, if you were honestly sorry, then you would stop such inappropriate behavior.” He scolded. “And furthermore...”

Suddenly, the spirits began to speak to her; it was so sudden that she grew frightened. The wind began to swoosh around Sala in magical ebbs drowning out Targan’s voice and the constant tapping of the ruler to his palm. She could hear leaves on a tree scattering around each other in a staccato rhythm. The language of the spirits was still an enigma; even though she could not understand the words, she could understand the emotions. She began to shiver, something was wrong.

“What are you trying to tell me?” She reached out with her mind.

The wind spirits were generally very playful and tricky, and sometimes would even try to convince her to play pranks on the people around her. This time… this time something was different, and she did not like it. She could feel her heartbeat booming in her chest and sweat running down her back only adding to the anxiety building.

Sala was shot back into reality while Targan was still in the middle of his lecture unaware of what she had been sensing.

“One day, you will find yourself in the halls of the Great Council and will be given a mate. You must be able to…”

Sala looked towards the door as he droned on and on when the door swung open where two acolytes presented themselves in front of the professor. One was very tall for his age, with fiery red hair while the other, a blond, was very gaunt and the bags below his eyes showed just how hard he was studying.

“WHAT IS THIS!” he roared. “DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT SHE IS? SUCH BEHAVIOUR CANNOT BE TOLERATED!” he tore are the two boys.

“S…S…Sorry profess..ssor. The dean had s…sent us to gather S…Sala.” One boy stammered.

“I have not completed my training with her today.” He shot back.

Sala did not know what was going on but knew that she needed to get home as soon as possible. Her feet tapped nervously, and she whispered.

“Take me home.”

“What was that?” Targan turned to her with wide eyes.

“Take me home, now.” She repeated.

You are reading story Earth Reforged at novel35.com

“You will sit there and…”

“TAKE ME HOME!” screamed.

Sala jerked awake pulling out the dagger always concealed along her hip. He was coming for her, and she needed… no… that was only a dream; memories dredged up to the surface from somewhere long lost in the depts of her soul. It was a long time since she had dreamt of her childhood; Essillo now lost to her.

A woman spoke, though she could not understand the language.

Sala just now noticed the poor maid standing wide eye and frozen in her doorway. It took another moment to process that Sala had the woman frozen in place by solidifying the air around her. She only caught this by sensing the tray she dropped. Sala instinctively locked down anything moving around her by accident, but she had shown her hand. Sala flicked her earing which allowed her to understand and speak any language. When doing so she heard what she feared.

“W…w…wind… Speaker… Wind Speaker… WIND SPEAKER!” the maid stammered then broke into a guttural howl rather than a scream.

Sala swore to herself while standing quickly. This was not the first time she had been discovered, but she hadn’t made a simple mistake like this in decades. Using the wind spirits under her command, she gagged the woman while speaking attempting to calm her down.

“I am not going to harm you, human.” She told the maid.

She was flailing frantically in her unseen bindings, and Sala knew the woman was hysterical and there was no explaining.

“If only you could see her terror. She stares up at you seeing the monster we are.” A voice spoke her head.

“Shut it!” Sala shouted back grasping her head.

“Sala, don’t you wish…”

“I said shut it!” she said again, and the voice quieted.

She thought of the time long ago when she saw this demon as a friend. Too late she realized that Sala was only a means to an end for it and when she stole its freedom, it stole her vision. Now forged together in a gestalt of wind and flame, Sala roamed the world to find freedom.

Blood red swirls of demonic flame replaced her sclera while the pupils were a pale white with light hints of the black it used to be. She was visually blind to the land, but Sala had something else to help her move through a world hidden. Her magical senses were powerful with the wind spirits under her domineering will. Now reflexive to her, she sent out a consistent flow of spirits in all directions to relay the properties back into her mind. Magical items and people would shine brightly in her mind, while everything else would be simpler and duller.

Most of the time, she could walk among the people without anyone noticing her disability, but this was less true in the smaller villages. When people asked, she would tell them that she was a Fire Breather, and if they asked for any form of proof or demonstration, she would always be able to sleight of hand her way through it. The wind spirits were slight and devious creatures and as long as Sala could provide the flame, they would take over with a fire dance to dazzle the children. Only one time had this performance led to the town discovering her lies, as there was an actual Fire Breather in the village. When he was unable to sense her abilities but still the power exuding from her; well, it only was a matter of time before the pieces were put together.

The woman had fainted during Sala’s moment of revelry.

“I guess there’s no point in hiding now.” She said to herself.

“I guess so.” The demon replied.

She shook her head; the voice would never leave her. At times, Sala thought of releasing the demon. The creature said that it would find its way to another victim before its magical matrix would break down and would follow up with promises of destroying her home. Sala could not let that happen. So, she searched for something or someone that could help her, but she was a stranger and a in a strange land; not to mention something that would be executed on sight. Sala knew of the power inside her, and because of this, the world wished for her kind to be gone forever.

She fingered the golden band around her wrist; the same item that trapped the demon, also kept it from taking over her mind unless she allowed. As the demon fed through emotion and magical power, the band forcefully limited what she was able to channel through her body. The demon was unable to possess a non-magical being, so only in very rare and immediate situations are the demon and her wants the same.

Only when Sala gathered all her items and placed the woman in the bed did she step outside. It was less than a minute due to her little possessions, and she could sense townsfolk running in the distance. Conversely, a group locals moved towards her in a rush only possible through magical abilities.

The local death mage, a wizen old elf by the name of Conit, sprinted faster than someone at his age had the right to too. A human archer named Damitrie, used her powers of growth to poison her arrows. Another shaman, only a farmer, walked more hesitantly. Naroosh was a kind man but no fighter. That being said, any magical user was just orders of magnitude more powerful than any towns minutemen. Of all three, Damitrie was the town’s only hero, and seeing these people come for her, broke her heart. Sala was not sure why it still affected her so strongly, but every town reacted the same. The hatred for Wind Speakers went deep; even through the friendships built in the last month, the people’s eyes would only see a monster in need of eradication.

Sala could sense the three approaching as shining beams of radiant light that was only seen in her mind. A deep purple, and two bright green figures approached giving away their schools of magic as easily as knowing a fire from smelling the smoke.

“Hold on right there now.” Conit spoke with a thick accent that sounded as if they had honey in their mouths. “No need getting anyone else hurt from this now.”

Sala didn’t reply.

“Kill them all!” the voice screeched in her mind.

Sala clutched at her head.

“No…no…no…no…”

As a Wind Speaker, Sala could just fly away normally, but she was unable. The golden band prevented her from doing that, and if she were to remove it and escape, then the demon would take control and murder everyone. She needed to talk her way out of this. Even with the band, she was much more powerful than these small people, but they were still a substantial threat.

They mistook her mutters for decent rather than what it actually was, a mental battle to try and save their lives.

“Listen speaker, you know what you are, and you know what needs to happen. You are just too dangerous to be left to your own devices.” He spoke as if she were a child.

“No…no… I know what I am Conit! I have been with you for over a month! I have help you, protected you.” She pleaded while still battling the demon trying to take control.

The band on her wrist was not perfect, and at times where she found herself emotional, it could exude its influence.

“At what cost? You contain something inside you that no one must possess. You will understand soon enough.” He explained.

“Soon enough? You will have me killed. I have done nothing to earn this discord. I have raised no hands to you or yours.” She tried to explain.

“Just being what you are is discord enough.”

She could sense the old man building up his power, and the others exploded in action. They knew that the only way to take a Wind Speaker, was through surprise. She was focused on the old man but could still feel the other two subtly drawing in their own power. So, she didn’t allow them to act.

Through an outraised hand, a torrent of power funneled out in streams of a radiant blue. To the others, explosions of wind came hurling towards them faster than they could react. Each stream stuck them in the chest and sent them flying back. Only the archer remained on her feet; taking the blow, she danced back and around letting loose an arrow that would have taken Sala in her right eye if not for a deluge of wind spirits encompassing her body in an invisible shield.

The arrow shaft shattered leaving behind the obsidian arrowhead embedded in her shield only hairs length away from her eye. Though she was blind and anything nonmagical came to her as dull outlines, she was still able to feel the impact and the momentum still pushed her back. The spirits swam around her back keeping her upright, but now she was mad. She had done nothing to these people but aid, and they repay her with betrayal and vain. She cursed herself. This always happened, but with each town she visited, she thought that maybe this one would be different.

Righting herself, Sala shook her head. She plucked the arrowhead from the air in front of her and walked forwards. Root and ethereal hands grasped at her feet but found no purchase. They would grasp a spirit which would then slip them to the sides unable to even touch her. She did not need to fight them, she just needed to leave, so she walked away.

“STOP HER!” one yelled.

The roots grew up around, completely encompassing her. They attempted to constrict her, but the spirits kept them at bay. The archer reacted quickly by taking out a small jar filled with purple flame. Arcane fire was rare and expensive; Damitrie had been saving it for a situation that she found herself in now.

The arcane fire poured out in a pyromantic flow igniting the arrowhead. She had never seen a Wind Speaker before, but surly they wouldn’t survive the flame. Damitrie raised her bow, ignoring the flame burning her fingers. Lining up the shot, she fired. It landed in the center of the growing roots, which exploded in the purple flame.

The three of them were a hundred feet away but could feel the heat coming from the cataclysm. Just through proximity, homes twenty feet away were engulfed in flames. She hoped no one was stupid enough to have remined in their homes, but it needed to be done.

“I think…” Conit spoke but cut off.

A laughter came from the fires, it was not the voice of Sala though, it sounded as if hundreds of voices were maniacally laughing at once.

“FREEEEEEEEE!”

Sala burst up from the flame in an explosion that eviscerated the old priest, farmer and hero utterly and completely. They did not see or even feel what happened; one blink there was laughter and the next, they were nothing but ash. All the buildings within two hundred feet were consumed in the explosion taking that scared maid with them.

Sala floated up, but it was not Sala. Her eyes of fire were replaced by flat, unbroken skin while her body was covered in small white crystals. Her grin stretched from ear to ear filled with sharklike teeth.

“Will you choose to watch or hide?” the voices asked to itself knowing that Sala was in there.

Sala could not speak to the demon the same way it spoke to her, but it could sense her emotions. She sent forth pleading, hoping it would spare the town, but that was a mistake.

“Will you free me now?” it asked, and she sent back her immediate denial.

The demon smiled to itself.

“Then watch.”

You can find story with these keywords: Earth Reforged, Read Earth Reforged, Earth Reforged novel, Earth Reforged book, Earth Reforged story, Earth Reforged full, Earth Reforged Latest Chapter