Echoes of Ceotir

It wasn’t the same as the spirit in the sanctuary, there was no feeling of another’s intention followed by the loss of control over his body. It was much closer to a conversation with another person, a voice he didn’t recognise that he heard in his mind. As though someone behind him or nearby was talking; he couldn’t see it, and couldn’t tell the direction it came from as it was all around him. It was a much more comfortable experience than what he had been expecting.

“You were waiting for me?” He didn’t speak the words, he didn’t feel like he needed to, but he put conscious effort into thinking it as though he was talking to another person. A conversion within his mind.

“I felt your presence as soon as you entered.”

“So you were waiting for me to reach your table?”

“I’ve been waiting for you much longer than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“There have been many that came by me, that have desired power and a contract with our kind, but none of them were right.”

“Then I’m honoured, but can I ask why—why me? The other spirits were silent.”

“You are unusual compared with the others of your kind, so I claimed you.”

“So they didn't respond because of you... In what way am I unusual?”

“You are closer to our kind than the others, yet you are still a part of the physical world.”

“What do you mean—closer to your kind?”

“Does it not seem strange that we can talk freely with one another?”

He hadn’t considered it but the man who guided him around the tables said it wouldn’t be a conversation, he’d feel the communication but it wouldn’t be like this. He opened his eyes only now realising he had closed them and the world appeared before him again. But things had changed in the seconds of his conversation with the spirit.

The stick had grown and was still changing in his hand. What looked like white metal ribbons appeared from the wooden staff and wrapped their way in elaborate patterns over his hand to create guards as similar decorative shapes ran along the weapon. A blade appeared from the top, extending outwards to form a curved axe head with a sharp spike on the other side. What was a stick became a battle axe as tall if not more than Finlay and yet it weighed the same as it had when he lifted it.

But it wasn’t just the shape or form of the stick that changed. There was a strangeness to the air around the axe and as he looked at himself it covered him as well. It wasn’t quite a glow, not a reflective light but similar to the shimmer that would catch the eye the sanctuary held. But this was red and it glistened in the air around his body as an aura that shifted and disappeared with the angle of view.

While this shimmering light was curious it was the feeling that filled his attention. A strength, a responsiveness to the world; his vision felt clearer, his hearing sharper and he felt as though he could move his body without any effort or restriction. He felt more alive than he had ever felt before.

“Excellent! Amazing!” The man behind him proclaimed and when he turned he realised many more were now watching him.

“I guess I found my partner.”

“Indeed and not just any partner, that staff has been with us for as long as I can remember and now look at it, it’s not even a staff anymore.”

Sara appeared with the woman she had rushed to talk to trailing behind her. The woman seemed to be under some stress, though Sara locked her gaze on Finlay—her eyes narrow and hesitant.

“Well now, I wasn’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that,” she said.

“We seem to work well together.”

“Perhaps a little too well.”

She was still watching him with a careful suspicion as though there might be something wrong with his new found partner. But that couldn’t be possible, he felt nothing but joy, moving the weapon in his hand as though it was still that small, frail stick. It was easy, it was effortless, it felt perfect.

“Would you like to try the others?” Asked the man.

It was strange, he almost felt repulsed by the idea which only got worse when the man indicated he should place the weapon back on the table. That’s not how this works, that’s not what he wanted, he wouldn’t put it down now, he had found his partner. He realised he had asked about options if more than one selected him, but it was different now; it had chosen him and he had met the spirit, if only briefly, the idea of abandoning it was horrible.

“No, this is my partner.”

Sara stepped forward, brushing the man to the side and touching both her hands to his shoulders. She was staring straight into his eyes as though trying to peer into his soul.

“Finlay—put the artefact down for now, we should talk.”

He didn’t want to, he wanted to hold onto it, they were together now, they belonged together. It was his, it chose him, who was she to tell him to let go of it? She told him to give it to her again and though her voice was calm, almost soothing there was a commanding nature to it.

“Don’t let her take me,” the spirit, his partner whispered in his ear.

“No,” said Finlay, pulling away from Sara’s gaze and grasp.

He stepped back a few more paces and there was a sudden buzz as the people who hadn't been paying attention started talking to one another. Sara stepped closer to him and without thinking he clasped his other hand around the axe and lowered the blade to point at her. She hesitated and even more than before he could feel the power swell within him and the shimmering red that danced around his form almost ignited in colour.

“Finlay,” she said in the same calm manner. “It’s okay, but we have a procedure to follow, put it down for now and we’ll continue on with your enrollment.”

Fear filled him, and he was sure it came from his partner; he wanted to protect it, save the spirit from these people trying to take it away from him. A crowd had gathered as everyone that was there but not paying attention encircled him—he felt trapped.

“Do not let them separate us, we are together now, we must stay together."

The spirit said what he felt, he couldn’t let them have it, he would fight back, he’d protect it. He took another step away from the woman and swung the axe in a wide arc as a warning, there were a few screams and shouts of surprise but Sara didn’t react. She never even moved while the blade swept past her, unconcerned when nothing more than a breath of air separated her from its deathly touch.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t have it, you can’t take it from me,” he pleaded again.

“Finlay, I’m going to give you one last chance to put it down,” Sara’s voice was still calm but her tone had shifted, it was harder, with a darkness to it that reinforced his fear.

Give it to her.

He pushed that thought that came from deep within out again, forced it back, this wasn’t the time. He raised the axe, the blade shimmering under the red aura that radiated from them both, a position of warning, to defend himself from the people that would steal his partner from him. But any defence he thought he put up was useless as he felt a blow to his stomach with enough force to throw him from his feet. There was a scream in his mind from the spirit and before he even understood what had happened he was looking up from the floor far away from the tables and the axe was in Sara’s hands.

He sat up, it was no longer the axe that formed but it returned to the same withered-looking stick he had picked up. Sara was putting it back on the table, her presence seemed even greater than before, filling the room with an authority that felt divine. Her eyes had a shimmer to them like the red aura that was around him and the green radiance of the sanctuary, but this was far greater, a golden brilliance as though she had captured the sun within her gaze. On the back of her right hand, there was an equal glow of golden light, an elaborate pattern that weaved its way up her arm until it hid behind the sleeve of her emerald shirt.

She had moved so fast he couldn’t react and even in her small stature had struck him as hard as any experienced fighter. He groaned as he held his stomach, staring up at the woman from the floor. When she had placed the stick back on the table, she turned to him and the glow in her eyes and arm vanished.

“Finlay,” she said before rushing to him. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him as a mother might embrace their child. “Are you alright?”

Confusion swept over him, lost between the idea he had his partner stolen from him but also the sensation that whatever he felt was a lie. He was sore, the blow he took and subsequent fall had been heavy but what was worse was an exhaustion that flooded him. He felt as though he had been in a long battle, fueled by adrenaline and now all of it was gone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really understand what happened.”

“It’s alright, listen, come with me for now, let’s get you out of this room.”

She led him out of the space, not through the door they had entered but another and down a corridor to a small room that was like every other he had been in since coming here. There were a few tables surrounded by chairs, some kind of group meeting space he thought. She led him to a chair and sat down in front of him, still holding one of her hands to his arm the entire time.

“Tell me, Finlay, what happened in there?”

“I don’t understand, I thought everything was great, I felt good, I had been chosen. But when you wanted me to let go—I just couldn’t, I didn’t want to. The spirit told me not to let you take it.”

“You spoke with it?”

“Yes, though not the same way I spoke to the spirit in the sanctuary.”

She frowned as she looked at him, “You do realise that’s not normal—communication with the spirits is more vague, we feel the thoughts, the intentions and desires but it’s not the same as an actual conversation, it’s never that clear.”

He almost responded but then realised he had no idea what to say. It was the second time he had conversed with a spirit, albeit different from the one in the sanctuary.

“It wasn’t the same as the spirit in the sanctuary, it was more like I was talking to someone in my mind. An inner monologue, and it answered as if I were hearing a person I couldn’t see reply. Like there was someone behind me or just out of sight.”

“What about the other weapons?”

“They were quiet, I could feel something in my hand, it’s like a heartbeat. I felt it when I touched the sanctuary as well, but they didn’t seem to want to talk to me. The other spirit said it had claimed me so they wouldn't respond.”

She rubbed her face and eyes as frustration or stress got the better of her. He wasn’t sure what he should say; it was clear that his experience talking with these spirits was unusual but he didn’t think it was a bad thing other than his vivid emotional reaction.

“I don’t know why I felt so strongly about you taking it from me. It told me not to but I don’t really understand why, or why I felt the way I did. I was prepared to hurt you, I’m so sorry.”

She looked at him but didn’t respond, once again she stared into his eyes as though the answer to their questions might appear within them. He felt shame, a guilt to his reaction at the fact he was ready to attack her and anyone else.

“It seems my assumptions were off,” she said after several minutes. “Here was me thinking you were going to have problems being chosen, that something in you repelled the spirits. Turns out that you can talk to and are deeply affected by them.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to other spirits.”

“Two is already more than enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you apologising for? Uh, Ronan’s going to go crazy over this.”

He felt lost, she wasn’t angry at him even though she had to use force to remove him from the artefact. But now he worried that they might not let him join, that there was something wrong with him, or worse, that they might decide to study him for his strangeness.

“How exactly can you talk to it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not like the spirits of the world are all fluent in our language let alone communicate through words as we do, yet you said you heard the voice as though someone talked to you.”

“The one in the sanctuary used me, I think it was a bit closer to what you described. I could feel the intention behind the words first and then they came through my body and I spoke them out loud. So I guess it wasn’t so much that it was translating or anything but it was just forcing the thought through me and my unconscious did the rest. I don’t really know.”

“I see.”

“It was different with this one though. It wasn’t my voice, I mean it wasn’t my inner monologue either, it was a unique voice, one I had never heard before. It really did sound as though someone was just talking to me that I couldn’t see. Over my shoulder, behind me, all around but just another voice. I can’t really explain why it could speak to me in our language though.”

“Well unfortunately that doesn’t really explain much. I’m sure Ronan will have some ideas.”

“Why did you pull me away? The others seemed happy when it chose me but you looked like you saw something wrong straight away.”

She sighed and leaned over to rest her head in her hands. “The look in your eyes, you just didn’t seem like the boy I interviewed.”

“Wasn’t much of an interview.”

She laughed which helped him relax as well. “You’re right, it wasn’t. But I was worried so I knew I had to get you away from it, away from there.”

“I’m sorry, and—thank you. I think I’m okay. It was strange, I felt really connected to it. When you asked me to put it down, the very idea repulsed me, as though I was giving something up that belonged to me, that was precious to me.”

“That is slightly concerning, you seem to form strong connections very quickly. People do develop attachments to the spirits they contract with, but that usually takes a long time together. But those who lose them have reported similar feelings afterwards.”

“How did they lose them?”

“Destroyed in battle, and they said it felt as though a part of them was missing, a wound deeper than any other.”

“But that’s after being together a long time, after forming a contract. So why do I feel so strongly now, why do I still feel like I want to run back into that room and take it when we’ve just met?”

“Just met, you talk of the spirit as you would another human. Well, that’s the worrying part, as I don’t have the answer to it. But you certainly have an unusual relationship with the spirits and it’s reasonable to assume that whatever lets you talk to them in that way is connected. It might also explain some things from the mining station.”

“You think the sanctuary allowed me in and that spirit chose me for the same reasons?”

“It has to be part of it, no one else could enter that building, the miners tried before you ever got there. You can communicate with spirits better than anyone thought possible, it can’t be a coincidence, none of this can.”

“So what should I do?”

“Be very, very careful.”

“What about my future with the guild?”

“Well you’re not going back to that axe, I’m sorry but whatever that thing did to you, I don’t want to see it happen again.”

He felt a pang of frustration and regret. He understood and there was a big part of him that didn’t want to go near it either. What it did to him felt unnatural but it also felt so good that he struggled to resist the urge to run back.

“But you will get another chance, there are still more artefacts and I think it’s worth exploring your options further.”

“I can try the others?”

“Yes, but this time I’m going to be standing right beside you.”