Highwater and Glass

The Passage of Crows, Chapter 6 - Oran

"Sacrifice was the earliest execution of magic," said the wyrd woman. "Twas the most obvious wellspring of power to our ancestors."

She was standing in ankle deep water in a large expanse somewhere within the hearh tree. Oran knew better than to ask exactly where. There was no layout, nothing governed by the laws of man-made reality. He was floating on his back high above her. His floor of shallow water was her ceiling. A circle of candles flickered around him.

Miranna paced around a stone column holding a slender curved golden knife.

"The fountain of life, the syphon of death, the elixir of blood..." She continued. "All of these ancient magics hunger to answer your call. Fair warning: they view no distinction between kindness and cruelty."

She placed her hand on the column and drew a line of blood across the back of her hand. Instantly, Oran felt a similar tear in his throat. Blood begin to drain from his neck. Miranna turned over her hand to catch the drops in her palm. Oran struggled to stay conscious. The pain was unbearable.

"You should not fear the use of this magic," said Miranna. "Nor should you fear death. It's curious to me that you do. You know where life comes from, you know where life returns. Embrace your place on the wheel. Death will take you one day, Oran Highwater. When it comes for you, you'll know."

~*~

Oran wiped the remains of the moth guts on his legs. The words of Miranna's lesson lingered in his mind. The memory of the knife stung his throat.

He led Sir Laurie and Eloise through the dark cavern. Late afternoon light was peeking in from the entrance as the chamber curved to the left. There was no other sign of life in the cave, though there was a little doubt Malthus and his "crows" as he called them would be waiting for them in the canyon.

Eloise and Sir Laurie had taken lives in their escape. The experience had left Eloise shaken. Oran, likewise, had never killed a sentient being before. But he had come to terms with the probability that one day he would. The wyrd woman was correct in her assessment that he feared death. He feared his own death, his mother's death, Eloise's death, Navinia's, Garrick's, Horus's, the death of innocents. But he didn't fear the death of war criminals and murderers; the same people who raised the spirit of a vengeful necromancer just to create chaos for peaceful villagers. Oran didn't fear killing.

Within moments, they reached the exit of the cave and found their ambush. Sunlight spilled into what must have been a smaller corridor of the heavily traversed canyon trail. Oran spied a second cave to his left defended by another spear-wielding guard. A narrow path to his right was home to a guard and an elderly mage. Ahead of him, on a small rise in the clearing, stood Malthus. Navinia and Garrick were tied to wooden stakes on either side of him. A few structures were built into the canyon walls; some merely wooden awnings containg barrels of supplies, others full-on shacks. The Crows had really taken up residency. Notably missing, was Horus. In the moment, Oran couldn't gather whether that was a good or a bad thing.

"Archmage!" Malthus called to him. "It seems I've underestimated you. You have some advanced tricks up your sleeves. But as you can see, I still have you at a disadvantage."

Four more guards and mages walked out from under an awning. Garrick and Navinia looked out to Oran pleadingly. It was all part of Malthus's game, Oran surmised. If Malthus's power was in intimidation, Oran figured that was a tool he could wield as well.

"The disadvantage is yours, Malthus," he called back to him. "I have an elite knight, Sir Revelyn Laurie, the youngest ever in Alindal, a prodigy. I have Lady Eloise Glass, slayer of the necromancer Caona. Meanwhile, I have yet to cast an offensive spell, and I'm the Archmage of Iron Fen. I can draw lightning from the heavens without voicing Arcaén. I can command more magic than any of you put together. It's my advice that you and your peons stand down before you all die painful deaths."