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Chapter 10: Sullethan
🕑 Added 2022-12-15 18:44:50 +0000 UTCDan and Sullethan walked through the camp uninhibited. Frankly, with the previous day of torture, Dan thought the cultists would be keeping a better eye on him. Being told that he was going to be used as a sacrifice made him think he was important somehow. But, after a tour around the camp, no one moved to intercept, talk to, or follow him.
It was just him and Sullethan, alone.
It took an hour or so, but Dan’s heart rate slowly leveled out around the man. He was able to make eye contact after half a day, and was able to eat around the elder after two. His stomach still clinched, however, but the twist was easing up. Dan only hoped the same would happen with the other slaves and prisoners.
Most everyone in the camp was more haggard and monstrous than Sullethan. Each had one aspect about their appearance that forced Dan to look away or risk throwing up. He decided it was a defense mechanism, as the beings in this world were obviously not right. Some pulled at reality, others drifted into shadows like waves on a beach. A few even faded into translucency as they walked, becoming one with air or light.
The green-red hue of the camp didn’t help Dan’s situation either. The harsh light only seemed to affect him, churning his stomach while turning his eyes bloodshot. This left him constantly in a state of nausea, something he noted was not present within the caves. He blamed the adrenaline of the situation, always having to look over his shoulder nullified the effect.
Sullethan had taken to the young Earthling with a graceful hand. The elder taught him simple words and phrases, often pantomiming emotions or gesturing to far off objects. They had taken perch on one of the mountain’s many small cliffs, it over looked the camp and primary living area. From their vantage, explaining the names of buildings, livestock, foliage, and random items around the area became their first lessons.
Dan took to the memorization quickly, finding past knowledge of most of the words. There were a few times Sullethan gestured to something and Dan already knew how to pronounce it. He could hear the three voices from the odd magical bracelet when these words came to him. While he thought the leader cultist taking the wrist apparel away was demeaning, he was glad for the foundations it had given him.
Sullethan always smiled when Dan figured out a syllable pattern or correct pronunciation by himself, although he would often throw a wrench into it. There were multiple languages in the camp and mine, and Sullethan urged him to learn them all.
On the third day of following the old man around, the pair stopped just behind the primary living area. There was a small open field with only dead grass and red-green light posts. Unless someone followed their initial entry into the area, it was unlikely that anyone would be able to find them. The area was isolated behind one of the taller buildings, while the field itself had no direct footpath to it.
Dan’s twitchy demeanor slowed in the field, allowing him to relax more than anywhere in the camp.
“Strong,” Sullethan said, pronouncing slow and deliberate. He put a finger against his core, Dan mimicked the gesture. “Feel, magic. Breathe.”
Magic was one of the first words Dan had learned. It sounded nothing like any of the other spoken words, rather it seemed to be from a different language entirely. The way it was pronounced pulled at his core, pushing the smallest amount of power from it. The phenomenon was a friendly gesture of sorts, at least, he thought.
The first time he had pronounced it correctly, Sullethan celebrated the word and concept with a shot of alcohol. The shot was a full mug and the alcohol was a thick clear liquid, but Dan could smell the fermented sugars. He was glad he was able to tell the drink was alcoholic because it was ungodly sweet. Without his sense of smell, he figured he would have woken with a horrid hangover.
“Breathe,” Dan repeated, finding the particular clicking of this word slightly harder than usual.
“Watch,” the old man said, raising a palm and knife.
Sullethan nicked his palm with the sharp blade, creating a river of crimson. A few drops of blood landed in the grass, where the dry plant slurped the liquid with vigor. A slight tinge of red appeared in the area, causing Dan to shiver.
He hated blood, he decided. The color red forced back unwanted memories of the cave, memories he wished to remain hidden forever. But all pain in Dan washed away as a pure white orb of light was born. It matured in Sullethan’s nonwounded hand, where it blanketed out in a flat manner. The light formed into a glove, creating a small wake of white mana as he moved it.
Gently he touched his bleeding cut, the cut then disappeared and reformed into prime skin.
“Understand?” Sullethan asked.
Understand was one of the words Dan heard the most. The pantomime for such a concept was difficult, but once he learned it, Sullethan used it every few moments during lessons.
Dan frowned, “No.”
The old man nodded, pursing his lips. “Strong. Magic. Heal. Understand?”
“Yes.” The human patted his chest where his core resided within. “How?”
The small knife made a reappearance at his words, along with an outstretched wrinkled hand. Sullethan said a new word, “Trust.”
Dan tilted his head, looking between his only friend’s hand and his face. Trust echoed in his mind, finding a time the three voices of the wrist band yelled, whispered, or sung it at him. He found a short rhythmic tune of the singing voice saying the word. The context was lost however, so he found another. This time it was the yeller. Do you trust me? it said with the context of two men about to go out in a blaze of glory.
“Trust,” Dan repeated. “Trust. Trust. No hurt?”
Sullethan looked hurt himself. “Maybe… small hurt.”
Taking a long breath, the human gave his hand to the elderly monster-man. A small gash appeared on Dan’s palm. It was hardly a scratch, only breaking the top most layer of skin and drawing enough blood to create a thin line.
A white globe appeared in Sullethan’s palm, again transforming into a glove a moment later. He touched Dan’s wound, healing it to perfect condition.
As his wound disappeared, Dan felt a rush of magic and mana. He recognized Sullethan’s instantly, but hesitated at the multiple aspects. The first one was easy enough. It felt sticky, like it was made of tar. It clung to his palm, ensuring the wound fully disappeared. The second aspect was much more complicated. Dan could tell it was the healing properties of the light, but he couldn’t figure how it was created.
Seeing his confusion, Sullethan spoke up, “Strong magic. Heal. Strong… will.”
Will was new to Dan and he instantly started looking through the voices for context. A full minute went by, but he couldn’t find anything. He shook his head.
Sullethan thought for a moment, having gone through the same charade a few times over their language lessons. “Desire,” he decreed, looking for a different route to understanding.
“Desire,” Dan repeated, tasting the word on his tongue.
The whisper and singing voices came back to him. One held context not applicable to the situation, the other giving him the definition. With that in mind, he was able to piece together what will meant as well.
“Desire heal?” Dan asked.
“Yes!” Sullethan said in glee. “Strong magic. Desire heal, yes!”
Nodding in understanding, Dan watched as his teacher made a small cut along his hand. The bleeding palm was pushed to him, the dripping blood only making him work faster. The red grass resurrecting was not something either of them wanted.
A golden white orb of power appeared in Dan’s open palm. He held it firmly and imagined what the end goal of his work would look like. He wanted a form fitting glove of magic, one that glowed with royal light and could heal the worst of wounds. The orb didn’t respond to his pleas.
“Strong. Strong.” Sullethan reminded.
Dan tried again, pushing the orb with solid concentration. This time he forced it to move, flattening against his palm and wrapping the overflow around the back of his hand. Sweat dripped along his forehead, falling into the grass below. The grass didn’t react.
The orb fully changed, but the final product was more akin to a tight bandage than a full fingered glove. Still, Sullethan grunted in success, pushing his hurt palm to the human.
“Strong! Strong!” the elder bellowed with a hint of a laugh.
Dan couldn’t help but smile along, happy in his accomplishment. He grasped his mentor’s hand with his own, imagining and wanting change. He saw the cut in his mind’s eye disappear and not a moment later his vision became reality. Only a red smear and golden light remained.
“Oh! It worked!” Dan celebrated in English.
Sullethan nodded along. “Success,” he said in camp language. “Magic condense! Quick!”
Dan’s eyes went wide at the familiar words. Magic condense was a difficult concept for him to understand, but after pantomiming for a few hours the concept eventually worked itself out. As he understood it, after creating magic, there was a time afterward that he could improve his core. He equated it to a cool down exercise after a hard workout, even though he knew the two concepts were a bit different.
For one thing, cooling down after a run didn’t put words and numbers into his mind.
Light: Salvation 14.4
Light: Control 6.09
Light: Aspect 5.19
Magic condensing was very natural to Dan. He had done it on instinct previously, but Sullethan gave a few roundabout tips to maximize the effects.
“What happens when a magic gets to one hundred?” Dan asked, then realizing his mistake, he respoke. “Magic condense… full? Magic condense… uh, complete.”
Sullethan frowned, shaking his head. Dan was about to try again, but a cough from the side pulled his attention. The golden robe cultist stood patiently at the edge of the dead field.
The young human and old slave shared a look, a silent goodbye passing between the two. For the last three days, the golden cultist had fetched Dan at some point during the day. He was escorted to the primary cultist building where he sat in front of the smiling leader.
The leader, as Dan had come to find out, was the cult’s high priest and had been around since before Sullethan. He was, in essence, the cult itself. Without him, the mine would be shut down as no one truly knew what he used the bone crystal for. Or at least if Sullethan was to be believed.
The high priest slid the voices bracelet to Dan and spoke, “Continue.”
This marked the fourth time Dan had explained his adventures in the cave. He was to describe everything and anything, map out his memories of the caves, and talk about the madness. The conversation went on for hours, ending when the golden cultist came back. The high priest took the bracelet and Dan was left to his own devices again.
Not being able to find Sullethan, Dan ate dinner. He took a bowl of yellow slop from the massive communal cauldron, ignoring the blank stares he received in the process. The other slaves watched him intently, their hulking frames or multiple heads frozen in his direction.
He understood why they watched him, it was because he was treated differently. The cultists all but ignored him, except for when he was supposed to recount his time in the caves. Others, however, were expected to work in the mines or do chores around the camp. If they didn’t, they would be beaten.
Before Dan could take two bites, a woman in silver chains sat next to him.
She was thin and tall, her neck and upper back hunched over from years of working on the ground. She had four arms, two of which were ethereal and hurt to look at. All of her limbs were cast in chains that connected together behind her back and rose into the air. The last link disappeared slightly, like it was folded past reality.
“Tasty food?” she asked, quickly.
Dan glanced at her, then shoveled a large bite into his mouth. “Yes,” he said just as quickly.
“Food for workers. You don’t work.”
A few of the words were too quick for him to catch, but he understood enough of the context to grasp the bigger picture. Dan didn’t respond and only took another bite.
A ghostly arm slammed his bowl across the outside dining area, mushy food splattering everywhere. Her second magical arm reached into a bend in space, pulling out a mop and straw broom. She shoved them at Dan.
A wash of dread cascaded through his spine and legs. He was sitting, but a fear dictated him to stand. He slowly reached for the mop, only for it to be dropped just before he could take it. As he bent over, a kick knocked him to his stomach.
The woman laughed and deliberately slowly enunciated as she spoke, “No work, no eat.”
Dan could only nod. A brief thought came to him, kill her. He knew how to form an attack, he understood more about magic than ever before. He could create an orb and shove it into her hideous design. All he needed was intent, will, desire.
After she stepped away, Dan got to his feet. His heart beat haphazardly and his chest bounced with hasted breaths. He wasn’t in the cave any more, he didn’t need to fight to survive. Hazing was something he could take, he had taken worse after all.
With a shaking hand, he took the mop and got to work. Dan took no issue with keeping his head down, not with all the monsters in the camp. These people, he could feel them all look at him. They would sieze any chance to take his life and better theirs. Attacking one meant making an enemy out of them all.
He didn’t want to constantly look over his shoulder, not like in the caves. He had a life here, for the time being. It wasn’t much of one, however, as being constantly scared could only go on for so long. But changing that would take time.
Dan finished cleaning up and left the area. As he went, he felt eyes trace his movements. He walked in circles a few times, passed by obstacles that disturbed his line of sight and disappeared within the camp. Once he felt no one watching him, he slipped past one of the tallest buildings and reentered the dead field.
He spent a few hours simply toying with his magic. He loved watching the glow of his core bloom into real life. He felt warm and whole, like all of his fears were gone like the darkness his magic protected against.
Slotting Light: Inspire into his preformed ball of gold, he watched as his core took over. The ball flattened into a rectangle, leaving his control for good. It flapped into an oblong shape, then into something more natural. A bird formed midair, glowing and radiant. It drifted through the air, swooping and spinning as if it were a part of an aerial show.
Watching with a tear in his eye, Dan idly thought about the future. The high priest said he would be sacrificed to the door. Seeing as that had not happened yet, he assumed the fateful day wasn’t for a while. Maybe it was because the high priest thought Dan had more information to contribute, maybe it was because other preparations were needed first.
Either way, Dan was working under a time limit. He needed to get out of the camp, out of the dome and back into the forest. To do that meant he needed power. Lessons with Sullethan were a start, but he would need to know much more than healing. He needed to learn to fight, he needed to learn to kill.
Light: War hung in the back of his mind. He needed to learn the intricacies of the magic, he needed to fight like the man in the forest did back when Bob was alive.
The bird of light had long faded as Dan thought. Instead of creating a new show, he formed a ball in his hand. Imagining a spear, he willed his magic to flare and elongate. With the needed fuel acquired from his core, the orb expanded to about the size of a short sword. At this point Dan was huffing and puffing, his core running on fumes.
But it was a start. Carefully, he pricked his finger on the spike of light, a red dot growing on his thumb. Dan quickly moved his eyes off the blood, not wanting memories of the cave to distract him.
A few moments passed as he waited for his core to refill slightly. The spear shifted back like crushing a soda can. It retreated into a flat plane before wrapping around his hand. A moment later, his thumb was good as new.
Expanding his core with his newfound magic, Dan magic condensed as a cool down exercise. He had run himself dry, the meditation was needed to continue any more tonight. It took only an hour for his core to fully replenish. When it did, he continued to experiment and grow.
When he finally decided the call of sleep was too much, Dan had made progress in all of his categories of magic.
Light: Salvation 17.90
Light: Control 12.31
Light: Aspect 7.77
Light: War 8.59
Light: Brilliance 4.11
Dan scratched his head, reviewing the numbers inside his cracked mind. He decided he needed to ask Sullethan more questions about magic and how things worked and what things meant. The only issue was pantomime about magic was slow and tedious. Yet, he didn’t think the elderly man would sour at the idea of talking about magic.
Now I’ve just got to find him, Dan thought. Just then his only friend rounded the corner leading into the dead field. Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear.
“Hello, Dan,” the old man said.
“Hey Sullethan,” Dan replied.
The old man frowned at the horrible pronunciation. He thought for a moment before gesturing to himself and speaking slowly, “Sully.”
