The Master looked down at her student. The woman was small, greying, and well beyond her years. Waving her hands in the air around her, she made small syllables that meant everything and nothing. A swirling grey mist opened up, revealing tiny pinpoints of light. The wind picked up inside the hovel they both were in. She stood almost as high as his head, and looked into the eyes of the Atrox boy that knelt at her feet. In rich tones, her voice vibrated through the air. The quantum gate was open, and soon another spirit would be called forth, and bound by the master.
Her voice was that of the language of the beyond, by the beings of the netherworld. She called sweetly to the spirits, her tone in lyric and melody known to attract the denizens of the Beyond.
Her student looked onward, his eyes alert. The atrox boy sat very still, concentrating on the harmony inside their place. Without much effort of will, he attuned his energy to the mystical energy around him, wreathing his aura with power that is often gone unseen by any save those of the profession of Metaphysicist.
"It is important, my child, that you understand this one basic simple thing. There is a place in the world beyond, in the space between places.. the place where ALL minds meet. It is here that you will draw your strength. Your drawings of what you see and what you hear, is a gift of that knowledge. You are a seer. You are a storyteller of times and places that are here and gone. My child, it is you and I that bridge the gap of all that is real and is not. Your hands touch things that have no form. Your mind will grasp things that defy reason. You eyes will see things that never existed, and may yet still. It is the way of all that is beyond. Our world cannoy always see what is truly here. Your task is to determine the truth of what is, seperated from what is not. Learn what is truth, even if it hides inside lies. You must use illusion to seek what is real, and in the end, show that the world is not just rocks, trees, animals, and people. You must show the world what we know and what we see. You must break barriers and teach others that not everything we see, is how it is."
The boy looked on, confused by her words, but not letting on. In a way, the Master knew.
"The others will mock me. I am not like them. My burns and scars, they are a reminder to them that I am not one of them. How will I begin to help those who wish to not be helped? How am I to tell truth from lie, when the lie blinds them at every turn?"
The Master looked down at her student, smiling. "This is your task. It is not easy to awaken the minds of the sleepers. They only see the now, and then. They only see the future in numbers and words that could mean, but do not. The future is always unclear. Their ways need to be challenged, or else the ways mean nothing. Even your way is not of perfection. It is not our way to BE perfection. It is our way to turn every breath, every living thing, into ourselves. Your task is not easy, nor should it be. Even one so old as I, have not seen enlightenment in my lifetime. I fear, that day may yet never come. My greatest hope and dreams lie with the future, and that which is unwritten. You are that, my child. Carry this light with you where every you may go, and bring the stories of it to every ear that wishes to hear. That is our tradition, our legacy, and our burden."
Skribblez understood. It was hard for him, and he knew this. Inside, the pain of being cast out as a mutant, hardened him. But, he understood that pain builds the way. With pain and suffering come the first steps of understanding. And pain and suffering he understood well. One so young, should never be laid bare to the harshness of the world. He was an orphan of everything; Of society in general.
In the lights of the swirling tempest, a being emerged. Surrounded by the ether and the music of time and space, it came forth. It whispered words sweet and haunting. A muse.
The master spoke to the spirit, citing the litany of its honour befor Skribblez. "In our tongue, this being is called Calibri. It is a creature of passion. It is a fragment of a being that is known in ancient religions as an Angel. He comes to this place to whisper in the minds of others, taking away their pain and rage. He will be a good guide to seek a life compassion."
Skribblez nodded.
A second creature emerged, as a brilliant ball of swirling green energy. It pulsed, almost breathing. "This being is called Sharalasse. She is a mendicant spirit, from a place known as Arcadia. It is a place where those beings known as 'The Ffolke'. She will protect you and heal your injuries. In a world that would scorn you and cast stones, you will need her guidance to patience and wisdom."
Skribblez nodded.
A third creature emerged, this one with a black myrk surrounding it. Its deep red maw was filled with many large and razor sharp teeth. "This is a being of anger. In its time it was called by the ancients to smite evil. It is a spirit of justice and vengeance, and sometimes even to war. It was called Hrothmir. There will come many times when the demons of Hate and Fear will come to you, seeking your blood. Hrothmir will protect you." The creature grinned, its frilled vibrating with a primal lust for combat.
Skribblez nodded.
In the circle of salt he knelt in, he took the effigies in which he gathered his temporal power. It comes in the forms of special things collected with utmost care, formed into simulacrums. Skribblez chanted aloud, and began to paint a white ashen mixture over his face, resembling that of a human skull. "I bind you all to me, spirits. For your service to me, I will honour you at the shrine of my teachers. I will make each of you the promise of peace between myself and each of your kind. I will offer this kernel of notum, as payment for our deals. For every time I call upon you, that will the price.
Hrothmir was the first to speak, as it maw opened. "How is it, fleshling, that I should allow you to do this? Why would I accept your command?" It sneered an eyeless gaze upon Skribblez, and the wind blew at his words.
Skribblez looked at the beast, and thought a moment. "There is no more world that is yours, ancient one. The frozen wastes where your worshippers once came from, is no more. Your people have forgotten the Aesir. For a time, in my service, you may yet make its presence known. Is it not enough you would consume my essence, in order to sustain your form here? Perhaps with this, you would have our world remember who the Aesir are again. They may even know that Tyr has not abandoned them."
The globe of darkness smiled. "I accept your offer, fleshling. I will come from the walls of Midgard at your call."
Calibri dazzled the room with burning essence, the rhythm of its form beating into the gathered people, it turned to face the master. "My lady, without question I will answer your summons. The sonnets of heaven shall be heard again. I do this without asking for anything in return. Of free will I make this choice. Your world is in much need of peace and understanding, for that alone I will accompany your squire."
The Master turned to the student. "There is one thing you must know child. That heaven protects those even without faith. Most people will not understand, nor believe. But above all things, know that heaven believes in you, boy."
Skribblez nodded and the Ffolke spirit spoke in anger. "I am not yours to be commanded! I was a figment of the Wyld before your kind was a gleam in creation's eye! What right do you have to make and unmake as you see fit? Your kind's arrogance will be your undoing! I have no time to coddle you, man-child. Any trouble you make, would be best served by the pain that follows!"
The Master nodded this time, questioning her gaze to Skribbles, "Sharalasse does not speak a lie. What is your answer?"
Skribblez bowed his head in supplication, and spoke "Our world has creation and destruction. I would not command you that which is not within your nature. My way is a way of balance, and I cannot have destruction without creation. That alone should be enough, but should my Hrothmir go too far..." Skribblez gestured to Hrothmir, who hissed in form of reply "the world will need this balance. As you act in accord with the universal truth, you will be compelled to respond anyway."
Sharalasse turned away in disgust. "Be warned, mortal. I will aid you only because I must. My mistress in the summer court would be most displeased should I not do my duty. You may yet owe my lady a favour in return. That is how The Ffolke do our business. A favour, for one in return."
Skribblez nodded. "It is settled then. A favour, for one in return. I honour your lady's price."
"Very well then, mortal. I am yours.... for now."
The Master looked down at her student. "You may break the circle now."
As she spoke, Skribblez hands went to the salt line, breaking its integrity with a simple stroke. Knees groaning, he stood up. The wind died down a little. The air had filled with he scent of burning wires, a holdover from the gateway. With a simple expressive wave of her hand, the Master closed the gate. The power in the room faded, as did the entities that were summoned from beyond.
"These spirits will do your bidding, but know respect, child You must act in kind, or the bargain will be broken and your oath will hold regardless. It is possible they may yet turn upon you. Spirits are a fickle lot. If you do not honour their purpose, they will not honour you. Use them wisely." With a small nod, the master spoke.
Skribblez packed up his tools and implements, placed at precise locations. He put them away carefully, reflecting upon each of them. "I will do my best." He said.