[A Fractured Song] - Chapter 4 - Fantasy, Isekai (Portal Fantasy), Adventure
The first thought Frances had when she had arrived at Edana’s house, was: “Why did all fantasy wizards seem to have some kind of private getaway in the woods?” Because in some ways, the Head of the White Order’s house was like an archetypal witch’s cottage, in how it seemed nestled in the woods. It had green-painted wooden walls, a stable out back for the horses, and two stone chimneys that rose up behind the building.
Yet, as their carriage approached, Frances noticed a few things that most of her books didn’t cover.
For one, the roof seemed to be covered in soil, and was growing green. It looked like the house had a “sod” roof that her socials teacher had mentioned was a thing in Northern Europe. Then there was a miniature aqueduct running from what Frances could only assume was a nearby stream, into the house.
Oh, and there were the moving brooms and dusters that seemed to be in the midst of cleaning the property.
“Agenti,” muttered Edana, and the various brooms and dusters stilled. She turned to Frances. “Well, come along and I’ll show you your room.”
Inside, the house seemed to be quite spacious, even if there were two floors. Frances found a guest room with its own toilet, with running water of all things. There was no modern toilet paper, rather, a kind of rough disposable paper.
Frances had no belongings to speak of. Only several sets of long and short-sleeved clothing. So she quickly joined Edana, who was in the kitchen.
The kitchen had baked terracotta tiles for a floor, and featured a round cook table. It was actually rather modern-looking, but with wooden counters were interrupted by a porcelain sink and sluice. The biggest difference was the metal and stone stove with an opening for logs to be slotted in, and steel plate on the top to rest pots and pans on. A flue going up the back carried the smoke of the stove away.
It was here that Edana was cooking some porridge and frying what looked like salted herring and eggs.
“Is there anything I can help with, Master?” Frances asked.
“Hmm, can you crack and scramble the eggs?” Edana asked.
Frances nodded and did what her mentor instructed. Soon they were seated and eating.
It was good food, and Frances had to very forcefully banish the thought that she was eating better in some 16th-century fantasy world than she had in the 21st century.
“Hm. Has anybody mentioned you have impeccable table manners, Frances?”
Frances shook her head and put a small smile on her face.
“No, thank you, Master.”
It was only polite. After all, Edana seemed nice, but Frances knew this woman was also the head of what seemed like a very influential order of mages. She must have offered to teach Frances not just out of kindness, but because she wanted something out of teaching her. If she was to keep Edana nice and satisfied, she better not annoy her, or make her think that she wasn’t worth her time.
“So, you seemed a bit tired on our carriage here, but I was wondering if you’d like to tell me a little about yourself?”
Frances swallowed down a gulp of food. “Um… there’s not much to tell Master.”
Edana blinked, and while her smile didn’t waver, Frances got the sense that the mage just did not believe her.
“You do realize you come from an alternate world with technology that we could only dream of? And that even your mundane life would be incredibly interesting to me?” Edana asked in a teasing tone.
“Oh! Sorry, Master. I didn’t realize. Um… so my full name is Frances… Wendlen. I was born February 14th 2000—” Frances groaned. “Sorry, that’s not going to help. I’m thirteen years—Wait, how many days are in your year?”
“Three hundred and fifty-six.”
“Huh? And how many months?
“Oddly enough, so I’ve heard from your fellow classmates, we have twelve months with the same calendar as well. Not the same names mind you. So, were you the first child born in your family?”
“Yes. I have a little sister, Dorothy. Dan—” Frances blinked Wait, what if she finds out you were born out of wedlock? An accident? “Is my father’s name. My mother’s name is Rachel. My parents… they make money by buying, building on, and then selling land.”
Frances filled her mouth with her last spoonful of porridge. Please don’t ask more about my family. I can’t remember what I was supposed to say when asked about them!
“An intriguing occupation… though I can see how one could make money doing that. I heard from some other children that you all went to the same school. What did you like to learn? Perhaps singing?”
“Yes. I also really liked socials— that is, History and Geography.”
“Hmm, you must have many questions about our world, the Kingdom of Erisdale, and the White Order then?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Well, if you have any, you may ask me. Seems only fair you tell me about your life, and I tell you about mine,” said Edana.
Frances tried not to make a face, but she did, because there was one question that had been bothering her.
“And I can see you have a rather burning question. Well, ask away, Frances.”
“I was wondering, Master… why us? We’re just thirteen-year-olds. Why didn’t the system summon some older children, and why from our school?”
Edana crossed her arms. “Those are several very good questions, Frances. I don’t know the answer to them all. But according to the texts, leftover from those that built the system, the system chooses thirteen-year-olds because they’re old enough to have some maturity, but young enough that we can train in magic. That is why older, or younger children are not summoned. The system also seems to be aware that at thirteen, you can understand our level of technology, but not be able to pass through too much of your world’s technology.”
“But… you don’t know why it would pick our school?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Edana finished up her porridge, and Frances stood up, grabbing the cutlery and taking it to the sink.
“Thank you… But let me help you with that,” said Edana.
Frances nodded, grabbing the thankfully familiar soap and began scrubbing.
[hr]
When they’d finished with the dishes, they’d gone outside to a clearing by a stream. The forest was nothing like the ones Frances had found on the west coast. It was old, and there was something about it that screamed “otherworldly.”
“So, Frances, for these few months, I will be teaching you how to access your magic in these woods so that you can start getting used to using it in your daily life. Reason why we went out here is because these first few steps can be quite dangerous, and so it’s better that we don’t do them in an urban environment.”
Frances nodded. That all made a rather good amount of sense.
“As you saw when we tested you, and in Godfrey’s initial lessons, magic in this world is available only to a select few, and to you otherworlders. You can channel it in a variety of ways, but it always will cost you energy. Like you, I channel my magic through my singing.”
Edana clasped her staff and long, high notes fell from her lips, dancing through the forest. Her entire body seemed to glow with a white light, from pale robes to her black hair.
And as she stopped singing, the glow faded. Revealing absolutely nothing different.
Frances frowned, there had to be something different. She had seen the glow, and something told her that her mentor wouldn’t just make herself glow for no reason—
“Throw a rock at me.”
Frances stared at Edana, eyes wide. “But… I can’t do that!”
Edana blinked and frowned. “Why not?”
“You’re my teacher!” Frances exclaimed. She cringed and bowed her head after she said that. She didn’t want to disobey her mentor, but throwing a rock at her?
“It’ll be fine, I won’t get hurt.” Edana winked. “Or are you disobey—”
Frances seized a rock from the stream and hurled it at the woman before she could finish her sentence. Edana blinked, and for a horrifying moment, Frances thought she had made a mistake.
But the rock just bounced off of Edana’s head like it had hit concrete.
Frances sighed in relief, and her shoulders relaxed. “You shielded yourself?”
“Yes. As a precaution. You have quite the power and while you seem rather careful, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
“And if I do hurt you?” Frances asked, her voice quiet.
“You won’t. Now, take a deep breath. We are going to lift this rock,” said Edana. She reached into the stream and gave Frances a smooth river stone. It was flat and worn smooth by years of erosion. Frances wondered what sound it would make if she dropped it.
“First off, before we start, let us go over three rules. You only cast a spell when I tell you to. You listen to my instructions. If you do not know something, ask me—” Edana smiled blissfully— “And finally, just do your best.”
“Don’t cast spells unless you say so. Listen to your instructions. Ask if you don’t know, and do your best,” repeated Frances, bobbing her head.
“Very good. So to start with, close your eyes.”
Frances instantly screwed her eyes shut.
“There are three parts to any spell. Visualizing what you want to happen, evoking the magic, and providing the power. We’re going to start with picturing what you want to happen. Can you imagine the stone floating in the air? Hovering there, buoyed by the wind?”
Frances nodded. It was hard to conjure up that image, but she could imagine it. She was in another world after all. A world where there was magic, just like the stories she read. And like she usually did, she just had to imagine that she was in that story, performing the magic, and that the rock was actually much lighter than it felt.
“Have the picture in your head?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. Now, how good is your singing?”
Frances paused, weighing the answer. She knew her singing wasn’t that good as her parents never encouraged her to learn. They let her join afterschool Choir to “keep up appearances.” She’d enjoyed herself, but was never particularly complimented on her singing. But what would happen if she admitted her lack of talent to her new teacher?
“I’m alright,” she said, making sure to keep her voice smooth.
“Good. Now, when I say so, make a note with your voice. The spell should pull on your magic and activate it. Ready?”
It seemed remarkably simple, and so Frances took a deep breath and nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Frances opened her mouth, sang a quivering, slightly nasally high note, and watched as the rock rose, and stopped at nose-level. Her eyes wide, she couldn’t help but smile with glee.
She was performing magic!
“Excellent. Let’s continue,” said Edana, mirroring Frances’s grin.
[hr]
Make the rock hover. Throw the rock with magic. Spin the rock. Move the rock through the air.
With Edana’s clear instructions, Frances found it so easy to perform magic, at least at first. Once she had a clear idea of what she wanted to do, it was just a matter of singing a note she felt was right to make the rock do what she wanted.
It was such a powerful sensation that Frances barely noticed her throat drying out.
That is, until when she tried to break the rock and a raspy note hissed out. Gasping, Frances staggered and the rock shook, but didn’t split in two.
“Frances? Is everything alright?” Edana asked.
Her mentor’s voice was cheerful, if questioning, but Frances froze at the question. Just how should she answer it?
Right, she had to do her best. She had to push on. Her throat was just a little dry. She was tired, but that was all. She had to do this.
“I’m fine, Master,” she managed. Straightening, she focused her attention on the riverstone, now placed on the boulder. Edana had asked her to imagine it breaking. Narrowing her eyes, Frances imagined the rock shattering and let out a long, low note.
But it was somehow harder to do it this time. Her hands shook without her wanting to. Chills seemed to run up her arms, which suddenly started to ache again.
Focus on the note, focus on the rock breaking.
The image was clear in her head, she could hear herself sing, the rock was shaking, gripped in her magic. An odd buzzing sound rang in her ear. Her shoulders were shaking. She ignored that. The bruises on her arm began to ache. That didn’t matter. She had to break the rock. Break the rock. Break the—
Crack.
The river stone shattered, flecks and pieces flying everywhere like a hammer had slammed down on it. Warm elation filled Frances’s chest. She’d done it.
Except, the world was spinning. As Frances’s view tilted and whirled, the last thought crept into her tired mind.
Why were the edges of her vision going dark?
Posted Mar 23, 2020, 9:22 PM UTC · edited