Dual Wielding

Corrin sneezed as he pulled the “goggles” off his face, breathing heavily from the flight. He’d gotten better at sticking the landings, made easier by his mana-enhanced body, but flying was still fairly taxing. You had to fight the wind at times, and the rapid acceleration and deceleration was hard on the body.

“That was a good flight.” Finian said beside him. He’d already set his glider aside and taken his own goggles off, and he was pulling out sandwiches from his bag. “I can’t believe this is only your third day. You really learn quickly. We can go on a fissure run soon.”

“A fissure run?”

“Have you noticed the fissures and canyons along the cliff face?”

Corrin had, along the miles-long expanse of precipice, there were several features breaking up the dotting of cliff dwellings and platforms. The largest of which was The Zephyr Falls–a giant waterfall crashing down from the river of the same name above. Besides the falls though, there were several scars in the cliff, huge fissures and caverns which Corrin hadn’t yet been able to explore. Some were visible from the surface, but others could only be accessed from lower below, and from what he’d seen they were thriving communities all their own.

“Can you fly in those?” He asked.

“Well, not in the ones where people live. Sustained gliding is prohibited in populated areas. You can launch and land from them, but that’s about it. That said, there are a few fissures that are completely abandoned, and they make for some amazing flying! It’s totally different from gliding over the plains.”

“Is it safe?” Corrin asked, not that he cared that much.

“I mean… relatively speaking. You should be fine though, you’re a natural at this.

“Almost as much as you, right?” Corrin smirked.

“That’s a big almost.” Finian grinned. “But don’t feel too bad, I’m a once-in-a-lifetime talent.”

“Once in a lifetime ego maybe.”

“You want to race right now?”

“You’re on.”

They finished their sandwiches quickly and raced. Corrin lost, badly. Not that he really expected much else, but he still hated losing. Once again, he found himself astonished by Finian’s ability to always catch the wind in just the right way, it was like flying was as natural to him as walking.

Soon, they found themselves sitting on the edge of the platform again, their feet dangling off the side just chatting and enjoying the morning sun as the world grew a bit warmer.

“Hey, what’s that symbol on the back of your glider mean?” Corrin asked. He hadn’t actually noticed it until the previous flight, when he’d been above Finian at one point. The canvas of Finian’s glider was colored a navy blue, and the only adornment was a single symbol, painted in white on the middle. Two lines swooped to a point, with waving lines stretched out from either side, two on the left, and one on the right.

Finian smiled softly. “It means ‘the wind at your back’. It was a gift from my mother. She used to say it was a symbol from the secret language of the wind spirits.”

Corrin didn’t speak, looking back at the symbol again.

“It’s fine.” Finian waved his hand casually. “It was a long time ago she died, and the glider’s not a sad subject for me. She was actually the reason I started gliding, see? I think she might’ve somehow loved it more than I did. Yet she always claimed she loved me even more. Can you imagine that?”

“Sounds like she was amazing.”

“She was. Even though she’s gone, sometimes when I’m out there, it’s like she’s right there with me ya know? Like I can almost hear her voice in the wind, or like I can feel her hands lifting me up when I catch an updraft.” He gazed out over the sea, his eyes unfocused. Then, he shook his head and turned back to Corrin. “What about your mom? How does she feel about you leaving to become a knight?”

“I never knew my parents.” Everyone’s expressions always fell when he said that. “They dropped me at the entrance of the church when I was just a baby. Nobody knows who they were, and honestly I might not even be sixteen.”

Finian chuckled at the joke, but then he took a breath and shook his head. “Damn man. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It’s hard to feel you’re missing something you’ve never had. And it’s not like I don’t have a family. My siblings back home, the old man who raised me, Wyn, what more could I really ask for?”

“Yeah I’m pretty amazing huh?” Finian grinned. They talked a bit more and finished their sandwiches, and eventually he grabbed the glider and hefted it onto his shoulders. “So, we go again?”

“Well I’d love to, but I really do need to get to the adventurer’s guild. I’ve been saying I would for the past two days.”

“Alright, fine.” Finian chuckled. “If you’re up for a night flight though, I’ll be here. I’m taking you on a fissure run before you guys have to go, so you’d better be ready!”

Corrin smirked. “Deal. I’ll see you later tonight.”

***

As luck would have it, the adventurer’s guild was actually in one of the fissures themselves, which gave Corrin an opportunity to see one in person. Oddly, it actually seemed safer than the rest of Precipice, since instead of rope bridges and platforms, the fissure was accessed via a permanent set of walkways and staircases that ran across both walls. That didn’t prevent people from stretching bridges and lines across the gap though, heading to and from buildings cut into and built out from the stone. Once again, Corrin found himself astonished by the sheer scope of Precipice, and the number of people living there.

He’d expected the limited natural light to be a problem, but despite the sun only trickling in from the end of the fissure on the cliff face, and the scar in the land above, the rift was well-lit by hundreds of enormous lightstones–each wider than an average tree–which stretched diagonally across the gap, bathing the area in a soft white glow.

A couple hours after leaving Finian, he was able to track down the adventurer’s guild towards the back of the fissure. It wasn’t exactly a dump–in fact Corrin liked its rougher look–but it wasn’t nearly as grand as the merchant’s guild had been. There was a courtyard in front atop a large semi-circular cliff platform, which had several training dummies set up around it, but the yard was empty.

In the back of the cliff platform, the guild hall had been carved into the stone. It seemed to have two levels, with a dangerous-looking wooden staircase leading to the upper floor, but he assumed the lower door was the one he was looking for.

He pushed open the door to the hall and walked inside. A few people glanced his way as he gazed around the building. It was something like a tavern–with several tables and a bar in the back. There were only about ten people, split between three groups in the room, which was big enough to easily hold fifty. The bar seemed like it did serve drinks, but there was only one man sitting there, and he was asleep against the counter. There was no bartender in sight, but Corrin walked up anyway, taking a seat. He just sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Well screw it I guess.

“Hey, can anybody here channel?” He yelled, projecting his voice to the whole room. “How about any mages? Really just anybody who knows about mana. I’d love to ask some questions!”

Much better, now they were looking at him. He noticed some grumbling, but soon one of the men at a nearby table waved him over. There were three people sitting with him, two men and a woman. Corrin didn’t hesitate to walk over and sit down.

“Hey thanks!” He said. “I’m Corrin.”

“Yer a funny one ain’t ya.” The man who waved him over said. “Looking for a channeler you said? Er a mage?”

The man had a strange accent that Corrin hadn't heard before. It reminded him in some ways of how Trell spoke, but it was much thicker. “Yeah, I have some questions about some stuff I’d like answered. I figured I’d stop here and then see if there’s a mage’s guild around somewhere. One of my friends mentioned there might be one.”

“Well ye'r shit outta luck on both fronts, all the channelers and mages worth a damn left fer The Grass Sea not but a week ago. As for a mage’s guild, we don’t got one. Ain’t that right Sam?” He looked at a young man, maybe five years Corrin’s senior, with long blonde hair, and a small frame. At the mention of his voice he jumped a bit.

“No, we don’t.” He said quietly. “There’s not enough of us to justify one. The big three mages in Precipice usually just work with each other.”

“Remind me why yeh didn’t go with em again?” The gruff man said.

Sam, the mage, glanced away. “Are you kidding Marston? Something they gathered all three of them for? Plus all the channelers? If that doesn’t signify something bad, I don’t know what does. I don’t want any part in it.”

“Ah, how could ah forget? Yer a coward.” The first man, Marston, elbowed him in the side.

“Not being an idiot doesn’t mean I’m a coward! You guys didn’t go either!”

The woman chimed in with a smirk. “This is why Yvonne never looks your way.”

Sam blushed. “We’re–we’re getting off topic.” He turned back to Corrin. “I might only be a half-baked one, but I’m a mage. Perhaps I can help you? Otherwise like he said, you’re out of luck.”

“All the strongest people are gone huh,” Corrin said. “Is that why this place is so empty?”

Marston laughed. “Nah, it’s always like this. Not much for ‘adventurers’ tah do without a dungeon nearby. We’re hoping somebody’ll find one in the sea at some point, but no luck so far. We’ll gather to drive off the occasional wild veldstrider or leapod, and the best of us get hired tah escort striders across the sea. Unfortunately for yeh, the four of us stick to the plateau, it’s far safer escorting caravans tah places like Cliffside, or even east tah Falmouth than it is tah try and cross The Grass Sea. But if the leftovers of the guild can be of any help, ask away.”

Corrin nodded. “Thanks.”

“It's no big thing, but just know in return, Ah’m gonna ask you some questions myself." He grinned. "Just some friendly give an take."

“Sure thing.” Corrin turned to the younger man. “So, Sam was it? You’re a mage? What’s the difference between that and a channeler?”

“Can you channel?” The young man asked.

“Yep.”

Sam breathed out happily. “That’s good, makes explaining way easier. So basically, you take mana into your body to enhance your physical abilities right? A mage doesn’t do that. We use an object called a loom to influence the flow of mana outside the body. Well, I’ve heard that mages in the east can do it without a loom, but it’s still better to use one than not.”

Corrin thought he could understand that. He took mana into his body via breathing to supplement what was already there, but there was still plenty of mana that existed outside his body. If he understood, then mages could somehow manipulate that natural mana to do… stuff.

“What’s a loom?” Corrin asked. “Also, is it something I can learn to do?”

Sam let out a bark of laughter. “It’s certainly possible, but mana weaving a single spell takes years of practice to master–especially without a lens, and good luck finding one of those out here.”

“Wait, a lens?”

“Right… so basically, there are two main tools that any good mage needs.” Sam held up two fingers. “Number one is a lens. A lens is any magical tool that allows someone to see natural mana. If you can see mana, supposedly mana weaving becomes far easier.”

“Supposedly? I take it you don’t have one?”

Sam clicked his tongue. “No, I don’t. They’re quite rare out here, which makes them expensive as hell. They don’t last forever either, so the few that do make their way here from the east get bought up by the top mages as backups.”

“I see…” Corrin wondered what the difference was that allowed him to see the mana in his own body, but not outside it. It wasn’t something he’d given much thought before, but now that he did, it was tough to come up with an explanation for why that was. “Wait if you can’t see mana, how can you spellcast outside your body?”

“The technical term is mana weave,” Sam corrected him. “But essentially, lots, and lots, and lots of practice. There are chants, hand motions, and scripts to help, but in the end, you just have to practice until you get a feel for it. Most mages spend their whole lives mastering one spell. The most talented will master a handful. You’ll learn another handful halfway so you’re not useless, and anything else you carry a spellbook for. With a good enough loom, any spell can be cast if you have time, even if you don’t have it mastered.”

Even if he insists I call it spell weaving, he still described it as casting a spell. Corrin tried not to chuckle in the middle of the explanation.

“I see. That's a bit more work than I thought.” Corrin admitted. That was a brutal time commitment to learn a single spell, especially when he already had channeling to practice. “But a lens makes that easier?”

“Well don’t get me wrong, it’s still incredibly difficult, and still takes years of practice, but yes, it should be easier with a lens. Being able to actually see the spell you’re casting as it forms is a huge advantage. That said, an archmage from Taravast passed through a few years ago, and he was casting without a lens, I never got to ask him why he wasn’t using one. He was still using a loom though.”

“Yeah you keep mentioning that, what’s a loom?”

“That’s number two. A loom is any magical tool that helps condense and focus natural mana. In my case, it’s this charm.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, handmade hoop, about the width of an apple, on which was woven a net which reminded Corrin of a spider’s web. The hoop was inlaid with tiny sparkling gems–magic stones Corrin presumed.

“How does it work?”

“I’ll skip the long answer, because there’s no point, and I only half understand it myself. The short answer is that the magic stones in the hoop of mine help to draw the mana through it in accordance with the spell I’m casting.”

“How does it know what spell you’re casting?”

Sam blinked. “I’m… I’m not sure actually.” He paused, thinking to himself as he mumbled along the way. “Oh is that why you have to…so then there’s something about…maybe a bond? But it’s not alive…”

“I think you broke him,” the woman laughed.

Sam shook his head. “I couldn’t give you a good answer at the moment, but I think it has to do with the fact that a good loom has to have significance to you. And I’ve heard you should spend a lot of time with it on your person, even when you’re not using it. Sorry, I know that’s not a great answer.”

Corrin shrugged. “I was more curious than anything. If it works it works. Wyn can worry about the theory if he wants, not that either of us plan to become mages.”

“What?”

“Ah nothing, just talking to myself. Anyway, could you show me?”

“Show you?”

“Yeah, like a demonstration. I want to watch you cast something. An attack if possible. I’ve never seen anyone cast anything in person before.”

“Well I mean–” The mage paused, taken aback for a moment. He looked around at the empty room.

"Ah just show 'im"

Sam rubbed his chin. “I suppose there’s no reason I couldn’t. Follow me outside.”

Corrin obliged, and the two of them stepped into the training yard, followed by Marston and the woman–the third man stayed at the table, seemingly uninterested.

“Give me a moment.” Sam said. He closed his eyes and held his loom aloft. He pointed the center of it towards one of the nearby dummies.

As Sam began to mumble words under his breath, the net began to glow a very soft whitish blue, and Corrin felt a faint pricking that he couldn’t quite describe. After five or so seconds had passed, there was a popping sound, and the glow vanished as the dummy lurched backwards. Its wooden post flexed for a moment before snapping, and the dummy toppled to the ground. Just before the hit, Corrin thought he might’ve been able to see something move through the air, but he couldn’t tell.

“Woah!” Corrin laughed. “That’s awesome! What did you just do?”

“It was a basic magic attack.” Sam said. He tried acting nonchalant, but his back still straightened his back at the praise. “I just condensed and directed mana to launch towards the dummy. Usually that results in a physical force like you saw there.”

“Show me again!” Corrin had him demonstrate a few more times, trying his best to understand what was going on, but he just couldn’t. He could still feel the pricking sensation each time the spell was cast, but he wasn’t sure what it was, and no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t ever see anything more than a faint blur as the attack hit. Still, it wasn’t particularly deadly, seemingly hitting with the same force as one of his own mana-enhanced punches, and it took far too long to be useful in a duel. Perhaps against monsters, or in a situation where other people could stall the attacker long enough to get the attack off it would be useful, but it definitely wasn’t built for fighting against a single opponent.

Elder Irym had always insisted that knowledge was a power all its own. But just like with everything else, every answer he got just opened up new questions. Lenses and looms, were they useful for a spirit knight? Did spirit knights even cast spells for that matter? The one from that day had used some sort of white flame, so they must. It was frustrating, like he could taste all the answers on his tongue, but he couldn’t actually eat.

After eventually giving up on learning anything else useful, Corrin turned his attention to the others to ask more about channeling. As it turned out, other than Marston, the other two fighters at the table couldn’t even channel. They were stronger and faster than most people, similar to Wyn–and Corrin before the fall–but the process of actively taking in mana was beyond them. Even Marston could only channel a little bit, and the way he described it was more similar to how Corrin had been in the dungeon, taking it in with no channels.

“I was led to believe that raw mana is poisonous.” Corrin said.

“Ah’ve heard the same,” Marston said. “But that's only true in large doses or over extended periods of time. Ah can’t actually draw 'nuff to have any issues, worst I get a headache after a fight. Ah’ve tried developing channels of my own, but all the channelers Ah’ve met guard the method like my mother guards the recipes to her pies. Ah haven’t had luck so far. Are ya willin' to share yers with me?”

There was a not insignificant amount of hope in that question, but Corrin could only shake his head. “I would if I could, but I didn’t develop these channels on my own, I don’t know how any better than you do.”

The man shot him a puzzled look that Corrin read as that’s the dumbest lie I’ve ever heard, but if you don’t want to tell me I guess I won’t press you.

“Seriously!” He held his hands up. “I don’t know how. I don’t have any secrets to protect… well, any relevant ones at least.” He knew about Eia, which Wyn seemed to want to keep secret for some reason, and they’d agreed to refrain from mentioning the demon for now. Originally it had been to prevent people in Straetum from panicking, but at some point it had become a habit to omit it. It was probably for the best anyways. Better not to go around saying he’d been granted power by a demon.

Following the magic discussions, Marston invited Corrin to spar with them, which he took them up on. They earned their self-depreciating title as the weakest adventurers in Precipice though, as he was able to defeat each of them even without channeling. Thus, the questioning flipped, and Corrin found himself facing a barrage of questions about his own past and training, which he tried to answer the best he could. They seemed to think he could easily be one of the top adventurers at the guild, though they insisted there were still a few people stronger than him. All of them had gone to the sea though, heading out for whatever mission they’d been assigned.

That’s disappointing, maybe I’ll run into them though?

A few hours later, he excused himself, leaving the guild and heading back to the inn to eat. It seemed Wyn and Kei still hadn’t returned, so they were probably still trying to catch the thief they’d mentioned. He’d considered helping, but after Wyn told him it would likely be a lot of standing around waiting, he’d decided against it.

For the best it turned out. Even if it hadn’t been as much as he’d hoped, he’d learned a lot. And he’d gotten to slack off gliding for several days. Really he couldn’t be any happier about his decision. Thinking of gliding reminded him that he’d told Finian they’d meet up for a night flight, so he ate quickly and left for the platform they always used.

The gliding enthusiast wasn’t there when he arrived, much to Corrin’s shock, but he supposed he must do other things at some point. Perhaps he was eating as well?

So Corrin waited, and waited. But even after the sunset, and long after night had crept over the world, Finian never arrived.