Solo Burning Bones

[Konrad Venger]

21st Bell - 48th Day of Winter, 516AV - Endrykas, Outside Stardown, Topaz Quarter, Pridesun Pavilion

Whatever it was, it wasn't human. Konrad supposed that mattered, in an abstract sort of way.

It was too big, too long. The ribs were like curved swords, gone from gleaming white to yellowed after exposure had bleached and burnished them. If he had to guess, he'd say it was some kind of wild horse, or maybe a cow. When he started to drag it from its resting place, he felt the weight of it, the sheer size... and wondered how many scavengers it had sustained.

One more, now. Only I ain't looking for meat.

Things snapped and ground under his feet and he minded his own thoughts more than the ground. His surroundings, well, he was always aware of them; Sunberth bastards like him never let their antennae settle. There was always a threat, somewhere; just a matter of when it came for you. But even he felt ice water down his spine when he looked around this crater called "Stardown".

The ground within was spattered and pockmarked with white, far as he could see, way past the torch lights and into the distant darkness at the lowest point. Even there, Leth's light created ranks of winking pearls far away, and Konrad knew they were no jewels. Just more bones. Not corpses or carcasses, with the meat and muscle that implied. No. Just bones. Bones picked clean and left to the elements.

It wasn't the bones that chilled him. It was the sheer number of them. It seemed that the whole crater was filled, and the holocaust has spilled out beyond the lip of the crater and into the Sea of Grass proper. Mounds of bones lay here and there, sometimes single animals, sometimes clutches, families, herds... and the stink of it all?

Well, Konrad didn't mind that too much. Enough had died close enough for them to cough their last breath on him, that the smell of corpses was... not pleasant, exactly, but easily ignored.

Which was a help tonight, since he wanted to get some practice.

"Crazy wahlak..."

Now, that was in Pavi, and yet he understood both words. He turned around from his efforts - hefting and heaving the rib cage roughly upright - and cast a crooked half-smile at the pair of Drykas squatting at the Pridesun camp fire. Then again, he'd heard the words directed at him more than once, especially after going after that coyote. Bit by bit, he learned. Word by word, he understood more of the babbling mess spoken around him

Fitting, he thought, touching the brim of his hat at the duo, then going back to work.

He started on his walk away from the bones. Closed his eyes and let the warm night wind caress his cheeks. Felt it prickle his wrists and at the brim of his trousers. In his mind the gust went deeper, beneath flesh and muscle, until he could feel it warm the arcane flow he felt-

There you are.

Konrad smiled to himself and willed the flow into his hand as he raised it. Saw trickles become tributaries become a river into his palm and when he opened his eyes-

-the res was floating out of his palm like a thick, moist cloud. Before it could spread he raised his other hand, as if he was molding the formless cloud under it... and as he willed, as he thought, as he wished and his kind made it so-

The cloud became a ball, molded by the hand that wasn't touching it, and Konrad's gaze moved to the rib cage.

Light.

The ball burst into flames, at least on the surface. Konrad tilted his head as he saw gaps in the fire, glimpses into the core of the inferno that was still greenish-black. But he snapped refocused quickly: no time to get distracted, not at his level of skill. This was hard enough.

He drew back his arm like a pitcher about to throw... and then he stopped. It was... a gesture, wasn't it? He didn't need to draw back his arm. He... well, his body wasn't actually throwing the fireball, his mind was. So he could just will it to fly and it would. He'd barely even have to move-

Don't get ahead of yourself. Remember what Trevin said: your mind makes it so, but your body helps you believe it. So don't go being a clever bastard.

Konrad nodded to himself and hurled the fireball, watching it speed away from him, burning through the air. Every foot it traveled, another distant gleam seemed to be revealed, long-dead creature caught by the unnatural glare. Konrad kept his gaze on it, willing it to stay together, stay under his command, but he could feel it... feel it move beyond him, like it was attached to his hand by a rope and he was fast running out of it-

Little further... little further... BURN!

He'd tried it before, but never at this distance. He snapped his fingers and the core of the fireball ignited, whole mass of it briefly swelling, growing hotter, heavier, faster, physics working with magic for a brief moment-

-before it crashed into the rib cage with more force than one of his earlier fireballs would have. A couple of bones were blasted clean off and it rocked backward, smoking and crackling... then fell over with a pitiful crash.

"Shyke!"

As did Konrad. He clutched his arm as what seemed like a dozen daggers stabbed into it, only there were no wounds, no blood. He bite down and suddenly metal filled his mouth. Copper, iron, salt mixed with filings and no matter how much he spit or swallowed he couldn't get rid of it.

Idiot, he snarled inside his head, working his arm around the ball of his shoulder until the throbbing died down... but not the taste. That was staying for a while. Not that far. Not yet.

[Konrad Venger]

If he'd learned anything about Reimancy, it was that trying something new was to take risks. Many a night he'd quietly regretted killing Trevin, the mage who'd first initiated him. It was... short-sighted. The man had much more to teach him, many more questions he could have answered.

Except he wouldn't have, Konrad reminded himself as he planted the burning faggot in the ground, fetching it from outside a sleeping pavilion. He was leaving the next day, and you'd never have seen him again. So you saw a chance to get your money back from a man who would have been dead to you anyway, so why not?

"Aye," he muttered sourly, standing a few yards away and flexing his shoulders. "An' that turned out bloody well, didn't it?"

He didn't retrieve his mizas, but he still learned a few lessons. He remembered seeing the candles in Trevin's room seem to bend towards the mage's res when he conjured it. Like they were being blown towards it, in a room with no breeze. Trevin had told him why: his res attracted the element he had power over, and since his was fire...

But that had been Trevin's work. What Konrad was attempting that night was his own.

Come out, come out...

He closed his eyes, raised his hands, and felt a phantom tickle tease his palms that was still very real. When he opened his eyes the res was rising from them, flowing out in two little streams like wisps of cloud, then joining together, splashing like water. Konrad breathed deep and closed his eyes again... focused... put up bricks and walls behind his ears to dull the sound of the sleeping Endrykas that was still very much alive.

Come over here.

He did not will the res to ignite, or move. Instead he opened his eyes and stared hard at the flaming faggot, top six inches a roaring, crackling head of flame. AS he focused he felt the res tremor, turn into itself like clay squeezed in a ball... and then the flame began to move.

Wind. That was still the best way he could describe it. Some mighty breath from an invisible god or freak hurricane was bending the flames horizontally towards him... no, not to him. The res floating between his hands. He could feel the heat from them as they got closer, fat tendril of yellow and orange seeking to caress the wyrd he had willed into existence.

Now, he thought, each silent mental command imbued with as my attention as he could muster. Step off.

Konrad would be good mizas that his silent little incantations were hardly the stuff of mystic lore. But he worked with the vocabulary he had, and the commands he wanted to achieve. At his thought, the tentacle of flame was suddenly free from the faggot, hanging in the air like a burning worm, twisting and turning and-

-still approaching the res.

Stop!

It obeyed, but Konrad could already feel the strain making his arms grow heavy. He licked his lips and... gods, that taste... getting stronger, too. As was the flame, shuddering and jerking and writhing as if in pain. The res ball was starting to collapse, too, shards and fragments trying to escape from him. Konrad closed his eyes and as he closed his hands into fists-

Out.

-the res was blinked out of existence, green-black ball falling into itself and then dispelling into the air like gas. But the flame he'd dragged from the faggot was still in the air, tethered to his mind-

-then gone in a pop, exploding-

"Petch!"

A little too close. A fat, hot hand smacked Venger around the face and the novice mage hissed and staggered and clutched his cheek. Something singed there. Hopefully just stubble. The Sunberthian flex and loosened his fists, waiting for the prickly numbness to dissipate.

Fine, he thought, glaring at the perfectly innocent faggot, not burning again without his interference. Another lesson learned: you only control the flames you don't create, when you have the res out.

He felt his cheek. Yep. No need to shave that side anytime soon. But it was his bad side anyway, so why worry.

"'ave t'remember that."

[Konrad Venger]

He could feel the reservoir within him roil and snarl, as if maligned at his use of it. Konrad rolled his shoulders, flexed his arms, let the tightening/loosening motion work its way down his entire body down to his toes... but that feeling of stiff, weary pain was still there. Down in the core of him. Like an itch at a spot you could never quite reach.

Don't go too far. Baby steps.

He breathed. Slow, deep motions, filling and emptying his lungs of the warm night air. The scent of scorched bone and singed hair thick in his nostrils. Time. Patience. He had both, what with his errands for the day finished and his traps for the morning planted. So he stood there, eyes closed, until he felt the ground around him fall away, piece by piece, and all with it.

Until he could see the pool in his core. The trembling streams of djed flowing from it. Until he could quiet them, and with his last inhalation join his breath with it-

Come.

-instead of warm breath hissing out of his mouth, he felt a strange tang that zipped around his gums and teeth like tiny shards of lightning. He opened his eyes and his breath was green flecked with black, not clear, and Konrad's eyes glowed with their reflected light.

The res flowed out of his mouth like mystic vomit, a gas that oozed and spread across the sky in front of him... until he raised his hand and willed it to cease, settling into a rough orb above his palm, no longer trying to escape. Konrad smiled and closed his mouth, cutting off the last of the res trying to escape as he ceased willing it in his mind.

Burn.

The res did as he commanded, and Konrad paused, waiting and turning his gaze inward like a fisherman watching a lure. He waited for pain, for a tremor, a flinch, something... but when it came, it was subtle. It was like a groan echoing through his bones and muscles, faint but definite. He didn't even need to wince but Konrad knew his limitations when they waved at him from the coming horizon.

Good to know.

He turned his eyes back to the tiny orb and licked his lips. Still tasted like crap, but there was anticipation in his eyes, curiosity in his expression. It was smaller than he would usually make; it was a tester, really. A means to discover how long he could hold one of these fiery constructs before he started to ache. Well, now he had an answer, but he still beheld the fire... and it could be so much bigger.

Well, his mind whispered, moving his hands so they were on either side of the ball floating in the air. Time to find out.

[Konrad Venger]

There was fire, and a fire needed fuel. That was how Konrad understood the wyrd he commanded. The fiery orb was the end result, but it couldn't exist without the res feeding it. Even now, looking so much like a minor Syna, he could see the greenish glow from inside it, core of djed feeding the flames around it.

But there wasn't much left, so he decided to add some more.

Come out.

As he exhaled, he drew out more of his res from the scars on his palms, thin wisps of it trailing from the, across the air... and into either side of the fireball. So small an amount he knew wouldn't be like tossing a cask of moonshine onto a fire; it wouldn't grow out of control... or so he hoped.

Bigger... bigger...

Little by little, it did just that. Fed by the res flowing from his hands, the fireball swelled like a stomach, gorging itself, growing larger, warmer, broader. Konrad watched with sparkling eyes as his creation grew from a grape to an apple and then larger, until carrying it would have taken two hands had it been anything else.

Which is when he started to hurt.

Something stabbed into his elbows, nearly driving his arms down to his sides. He grunted and snapped his hands into fists, cutting off the res the same time his mind barked-

Stop!

-but the fireball still raged, shuddering and shifting between his hands. Cheek still twitching a little from its former scorching, Konrad was already stepping back, breathing deep and hoping he had enough strength for-

Go!

-pushing out both his arms as if shoving someone away, fireball flying away from him and towards the charred, still-smoking ribcage he'd targeted before. Again those spikes struck him; that time he trembled through his body down to his legs and he went down to one knee. But he ground his teeth and kept up his arms, willing some specter of control over the fireball until-

Now!

WHOOSH

Petch. Someone will have hear that.

With a snap of his fingers he ignited the core of the fireball and with a hissing roar it smashed into the bones. Larger han the last, with all the speed and force that added to it, it rolled the jagged collection of white-and-black bones over and yet more ribs flew from it. Konrad choked back a scream and felt both his arms go numb at his sides.

He panted down into bis chest, head bowed, eyes closed. He felt the grass and dirt shift under one boot and one knee and a migraine like bricks being smashed into his head. He tried... tried to flex his hands... but all he could feel... gods, could he even-

Yes. There.

His fingers twitched. Not as he wanted them to, but they did. After a chime, he could make a fist. A hollow one, but better than nothing. But it was only after he raised his arms over his shoulders that Korad let out the breath he'd been holding, since he'd tried to move his fingers.

Too far. You try too much, too fast, and to go too far. He heard Trevin's scolding voice in his head as he got back to his feet, wandering over the the decimated ribcage of the long-dead and unknown animal. You're not a mage. Not yet. Just a man who can summon djed. Remember, there's a difference.

They were words, and wise, but some men can hear a million words and not be as convinced as they would be by seeing one, stark, physical example. When Konrad looked down at his palms, eyes wide, he got one.

It was worth all the words in the world.

[Konrad Venger]

His palms were bleeding. Scars that were old and healed were oozing scarlet as if Trevin had just gouged them afresh. Konrad swallowed hard and felt gravel go down with it.

He closed his hands... then his eyes... was his mind betraying him? Could he be seeing things? Then he felt the warm, stickiness. The sting of open wounds. His eyes opened and then his hands and-

No. Not seeing things.

"Damnit..."

Konrad had never been one for signs from the gods, but if there was ever a sign that his practice with Reimancy was over for the night, he couldn't ask for a better one. Grumbling to himself he stalked out of the heather and steppe beyond Endrykas, uprooted faggot lighting his way as he went. Shards of bone winked at him from the ground as he went. A rib. A finger. A hoof. Part of a skull. Feet. He saw bones and parts of bones, enough to make a swathe of dead men and even they were a fraction, a drop in the great bucket that was the crater.

He'd thought about practicing there, but... no. His very soul recoiled at the idea. For no reason he could name, but it did.

"'Whoozat...?"

Sedon was bleary and his words were the same. He rubbed his fleshy face and smacked his full lips and squinted at the behatted figure outside his tent. Then he saw the red smear across his hands and for a moment, every fear and fantasy he'd had about the gaunt, hostile wahlak came to life, spring off his lips-

"Cut meself."

"Cut your... oh..."

Konrad's eyes narrowed. "Not nuff uva stupid cunny t'kill some sod when I can't get away, am I? Jus' need rags. Hot water."

Sedon frowned and perused the mans hands. God, but yes, he'd petched himself up. Not too deep, but still. "You need booze on that. Hot wine. Kill the... ah... bad."

Konrad just nodded, not wanting to stretch the Drykas' Common to breaking point until after his sodding hands were patched up. He followed him inside and squatted on the cook's bed as he started to heat some wine over the fire. Once it was warm but not boiling - and Sedon had an eerie ability to just know when that was... although sticking his finger in seemed to help - he let the man wipe the blood from his scars.

"Oh, not hurt bad. Do not be soft."

Show you soft you horse-petching-

Then the wine came into play and Konrad's mind went very white, very bright, and very blank. He screwed his eyes shut and was aware only of the hurt and Sedon's rag stroking across his scars, cleaning his palms as efficiently as he could butcher a goat. When he opened them again, he was already winding bandages around them.

"Need healer. Not me. Do not know lot."

The man made a point. Konrad knew of the healer, as did the rest of the pavilion. But he'd not come to that old man's tent, he'd come to the cook's. The man who talked to him, aided him, gave him advice. Who tried to start conversations with one that never, ever "chatted" about anything. Not even with Three Eyes.

"Not know man. Know you."

Sedon smiled softly, a familiar sight to Konrad. He liked to see people learning new things. Hunting, trapping, butchery... and Pavi. It seemed like the wahlak had been paying attention.

Konrad put his hat back on and flexed his hands. Aye, they'd hurt for a while, but they'd not hinder him. He touched the brim of his hat and then made a movement with his hand that he'd seen a hundred times since he'd arrived. Sedon made one back.

"You're welcome," he said to Konrad's back.

[Khida]

Konrad Venger

Skill	Points
Endurance	+2
Reimancy	+5
Medicine	+1
Meditation	+2

• Cyphrus location: Stardown Crater
• Endrykas event: a litter of bones in Stardown
• Endurance: blanking out from pain
• Endurance: pushing through to reach a goal
• Medicine: hot wine to clean open wounds
• Meditation: measured breathing to center the mind
• Meditation: mental walls to tune out background noise
• Reimancy: physical action makes intention real
• Reimancy: exuding res from initiation scars
• Reimancy: exhaling res
• Reimancy: halting attracted element in mid-approach
• Reimancy: igniting entire a small ball of res
• Reimancy: res can be used to attract elements
• Reimancy: res is required for elemental control

Mild Overgiving: Konrad's initiation scars will gradually mend over the next two days, provided he doesn't do anything to reopen them. He will have intermittent flashes of pain in the joints of his fingers, hands, and wrists over the same period, which will be short-lived but largely resistant to soothing treatments.

Notes

I don't think I've mentioned yet that I like your writing. Consider it stated now! Practicing on the bones of Stardown was a perfect setting for this. I tossed in a bunch of Reimancy lores that don't seem to be in your sheet yet, and I gave Medicine XP for the wine-washing because it's a simple technique to replicate.

Please let me know if you have any questions or think I overlooked anything in this grade. Also, please edit your request to show this thread has been graded.