Phew. This chapter sure has been greatly delayed. But sadly, I've been very busy lately, and the new medicine I am taking is making me incredibly tired all the time. So at least for now, it can be expected that the story progresses somewhat slowly. Don't worry though - it may go slow, but it does move forward! Enjoy the 42th chapter of "Medieval Cohesion", which is viewed from another characters perspective ^.^

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Chapter 42 - Spiritual summoning

The first rays of sunlight, penetrated the dense growth of the forest, and illuminated the entire area. It was dawn. Due to having spend much of the night listening to the sorcerer’s dark tale, everyone was deep asleep, scattered around the area. All except me, Sinqularis, the spiritual shaman. It was a long and complicated story for us all to take in, so once he was finished, we were all tired and agreed to get some rest before dawn. We still have a long journey ahead, so it’s important for us to seize any given opportunity to restore our energy. It honestly wasn’t my intention to awaken at such an early hour. But I had picked an unfortunate location to sleep. When I was keeping watch last night from the treetops, I actually enjoyed to observe the environment from that altitude. So I chose to climb up into one of the trees close to the camp, and fall asleep on a sturdy branch above. Despite that I snuck away silently while everyone was distracted by something else, it didn’t take long for Zephyr to find me. He was hanging down from another thick branch only several meters above me, sleeping upside down, keeping his body warm with his own wings. Ever since my childhood, Zephyr has always been watching over me like this, protecting me like a guardian. It’s quite ironic that the dark fruit bat, that everyone shunned because of ridiculous rumors, turned out to be the most loyal and honorable warrior within our tribe. There is no other person within our humble tribe, who I’d rather entrust with my life.

But on this branch high above the ground, I became the first to be awoken by the daylight, breaking through the leaves of the treetops. The first rays of sunlight are always so sharp and dazzling. And when I first have woken up, it’s impossible for me to fall asleep again. So I decided that this would probably be a convenient moment to explore the forest, and spend a little time for myself. Despite how much I enjoy the company of my friends, there are times where I require a little solitude, to deal with my own thoughts and feelings. And even though I greatly appreciate Zephyr’s desire to guard me at all times, my need for privacy requires that even he gives me a little space now and then. He tend to be pretty overprotective, so he’d never let me head into the forest alone, without keeping me under sharp observation from above. But I really can’t blame him at all. Back in our youth, I was the first and only person within our tribe, that made him experience the sensation of being loved and cared about. Everyone else were convinced that the dark rumors connected to bats were true, so they showed no interest in taking him under their protective wings, back when he was young and vulnerable. He was an outsider. No one really knows where he came from, but it’s assumed that he was a young child, lost from the colonies of bats that dwell in the mountains surrounding the enchanted forest. Our tribes haven’t communicated with these colonies of bats for decades, and any attempt to seek out their dark caverns has been strongly prohibited.

From this high altitude, I could see everyone else sleeping down below, besides Zephyr that slumbered peacefully right above me. For obvious reasons, the first thing that caught my attention, was the sorcerer Archimedes. He had somehow transformed back to his original form, now that there was no more moonlight to provoke his inner darkness out. All his lost fur and flesh had been recovered. It was honestly a relief to see him as a living lemur once again, despite that we now know of the dark secret he keeps within. He was sitting down and leaning against a large boulder, sleeping like everyone else. It’d seem like the curse hasn’t robbed him of his need to sleep yet. But I’ve noticed that he never eats or drinks, when we’re having our meals. The young knight Wesley and his friend Paul were sleeping close together, both laying in the tall grass, resting on their sides. The rabbit was snoring rather loud. Despite of our different cultures, I’ve always admired the solid plates they wear for protection. It may not be suitable for the way that we tribal people fight in combat, since we rely a lot on quickness and agility. But it’ll definitely take a powerful attack to break through their defenses. No knight goes down easy. The only person who wasn’t asleep, was the large but impressive female barbarian Raksasha. She was standing guard, equipped with her axe and buckler. Someone had to pick up that responsibility, and she volunteered for this night. But I figured that I could probably sneak past her without too much trouble. She wasn’t keeping an eye on what was going on in the treetops. But it was necessary for me to be silent like the wind. Especially since Zephyr has a high sense of hearing, and tend to wake up by the simple drop of a leaf.

Light as a feather, I leapt from the branch high above the ground, and grabbed onto another branch further ahead with both hands. Then I swung forward, released my grip, and used my natural agility to land safely on a branch in another tree, placing my feet with great precision. Back in the enchanted forest from which I come, it’s very common for us tribal people to train agility and precision, so that we can traverse the forest through the treetops at high speed. It’s particularly useful for our skilled hunters, since it provides them a quick and efficient way to stalk an unsuspecting prey. Our warriors are no more than young teenagers, when the experienced mentors bring them out into the wild, and teaches them how to maneuver through the dense treetops. As a shaman, no one ever expected me to learn these skills. But I’ve always been a guy who found pleasure in having multiple capabilities. So I joined the young hunters and forced myself to endure the same rough training, despite that many advised against it. Compared to the young hunters I was training with, I lacked behind a lot at first, and met much failure in my attempt to master these arts of agility. It happened countless times, that I fell down from the treetops, and got myself terribly hurt. I even broke my leg at one point, and was forced to put my training on standby, until I was ready to try again. Everyone thought that I had learned my lesson by then, but I was too stubborn to give up, and resumed the training after the broken bone had healed up. There were many hunters whose skills greatly exceeded my own. But I eventually learned to make my way around in the forest, by traveling through the leaves and branches of the treetops.

Swinging from one branch to the other, I occasionally bounced against the sturdy tree logs with my feet, changing direction when required. To avoid losing my opportunity of solitude, I didn’t drop down from the treetops, before I was too far away from the camp for anyone to hear me. By the sound of a soft thud, my feet landed safely in the withered leaves below, and I was now back down in the open. The forests around this region aren’t all that different, compared to what I am used to from back home. But still, it was a pleasure to be exploring new areas for once. This was, after all, the very first time that I’ve ever had a reason, to visit this vast continent outside the crater. I started walking. My bare feet kicked through the withered leaves and tiny sticks, from the branches high above. The treetops blocked the sun out effectively in this area, casting a dark shadow over my body. My snout was still able to pick up the scent, of the wildlife that has roamed actively in the forest during night. The leaves on the ground were trodden down by what seemed like hooves, and the nearby bushes had been gnawed upon. My guess would be that it was footprints left behind by a proud stag. We have those back at home as well, so I’m used to identify such footprints. The bushes that the stag had gnawed upon were in poor shape, and their state revealed that the stag must’ve gone right through the shrubbery. Assuming that the stag knew its way around in this area, I wondered what was behind these bushes, since it didn’t bother to take the long way around. So I pushed my way through the shrubbery myself, using the trail that the stag left behind to my advantage. Some of these bushes were awfully thorny, and since I’m very lightly clothed, it was impossible to avoid having my skin torn a little. The thorny branches whipped against my fully exposed legs and hips, but thankfully, the stag had already cleared most of the way.

Just as I expected, there was a small pond hidden behind the lush shrubbery. After having eaten from the bushes, the stag must’ve passed directly through this area to drink from the pond. And by that moment, I was quite tempted to do so myself. It was pretty common for me to be thirsty in the morning. My wooden staff was left behind in the camp, because it was impossible to bring along, when crossing the forest through the treetops. But it didn’t worry me. Even if I was forced into combat, my true qualities unfold in my spiritual capabilities. Besides, if I really needed a wooden staff in battle, it’d probably not take me long to find a new one in this area. Like a feral beast, I dropped down on all four and lowered my muzzle to the pond. My mouth opened, letting the canine tongue slide out to lap up the fresh water. The water was tepid, but refreshing, and got the job done. Most of my long hair was hanging down, some of it floating on the surface of the pond. But while being occupied drinking, I suddenly noticed a reflection in the water, that clearly wasn’t my own. It was shaped like a person. Someone was there. I raised my head and found someone standing on the other side of the pond, looking directly at me. It was an aged man, holding onto a wooden staff, similar to the one I’ve been carrying around myself. But surprisingly, he seemed to wear an old tattered loincloth. Those were tribal garments. There were painted markings and symbols on his bare chest, and a few below his eyes as well. We stared at each other. His long brown hair was tied in braids. Water dripped from my chin. The fur on my back and tail rose, showing my insecurity. I slowly got back up on my feet, causing the water dripping from my chin to slide through the tufts of pink fur on my chest. Not sure what to expect, I placed myself in a defensive position. I certainly didn’t expect to meet a tribal person outside the crater. The gentle breeze passing through the forest, caused the carved skin on his shoulders to motion. Who could this old man be?

Sinqularis: Hmm. You seem familiar.
??? : I am glad to hear that, Sinqularis. It’s been a long time.
Sinqularis: So you know my name. Who might you be?
Keltarh: I am Keltarh, young friend. And it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t recognize me. You were just a small and energetic cub, the last time we met. But you sure have grown big during my absence.
Sinqularis: I do recall having heard that name before.
Keltarh: Let me help refresh your memory. I used to be the shaman of the Nehmisaka tribe. And I remember you well. It’s hard to forget the unusual boy, who was born with his fur brightly pink.
Sinqularis: Yeah, I have had quite a few mixed responses to this pink fur of mine. But be that as it may. What’re you doing so far from home?
Keltarh: Twenty years ago, I was banished from my tribe, and forced to leave the enchanted forest. They caught me practicing the darker arts of spiritual magic, which isn’t accepted within our tribes.
Sinqularis: I am a spiritual shaman myself, and I’ve never heard of these darker arts of spirituality. Is it some sort of necromancy?
Keltarh: Not quite. Why don’t we discuss this back in my humble den?
Sinqularis: Sure. I appreciate the hospitality.
Keltarh: Just follow me, young one.

The old shaman slowly turned around and started walking, revealing that he wore a long ragged cape, seemingly weaved together by pieces of canvas. Despite his frail body and old age, I sensed that he possessed great powers, in the shape of arcane capabilities. He was definitely much more experienced than me, and far superior. This hunch made me relieved that he apparently remembers me from the past, and recognize me as an ally. After having wiped the water off my chin with my arm, I followed Keltarh as requested, and walked right behind him through the woods. We were moving at a rather slow pace. But I chose to remain patient, and respect that age had taken its toll on the old shaman. Even though he was banished from our tribes, for having practiced darker arts of spirituality that we have forbidden, I couldn’t help it but to admire him. And his forbidden capabilities left me quite intrigued. I definitely wanted to hear more about it. The old shaman seemed to lean a lot against his wooden staff for support, as if he found it difficult to walk properly. Green leaves of various types were stuck in his cape, having dropped down on him from the treetops. And with this slow pace of walking, they were most likely not going to slide off anytime soon. There was a strong scent of herbs attached to his body. It seemed like a common trait for us shamans to dabble in herbal experimentation, to exploit the various beneficial affects, granted like blessings from our beloved Gaia herself. It’s necessary to handle herbs with caution, however, since some of them can be poisonous. That is the reason why only the shamans in our tribes collect the herbs in the forest. It’s too dangerous to let anyone else handle that task. To an untrained eye, it happens too often that poisonous herbs are confused with the healthy ones, since they have a tendency to resemble each other in appearance.

My eyes scrolled from side to side, observing the surroundings, trying to figure out where he was taking me. But within a short time, we arrived by the entrance of a dark cave, which probably belonged to an animal once. We went inside. And it quickly occurred to me, that this was his home. There was still a weak animalistic smell clinging to the cave, that had probably lingered there for years. But I could imagine, that Keltarh must’ve grown used to it by that time. Just as I imagined, there was ground dust of herbs scattered on the ground, close to a primitive bowl of clay. The bowl still had some leftover water in it, with small pieces of herbs floating by the surface. He was clearly not the organized type, as his items were scattered all over the place, left where ever it was previously used. But I couldn’t blame him. He had probably lived like a hermit throughout all these years, with only extremely few options to stimulate his need for socialism. I was surprised that it hadn’t affected his sanity. The people living in this part of the world, would probably confront him with hostility, if he was careless enough to reveal his location. We moved to the center of his gloomy cave and sat down on the carved skin of a deer, sitting down with our legs crossed, facing each other. It was first now that I noticed his left eye seemed to be infected by an advanced case of cataract. Poor guy. But I guess that’s pretty common among people of his age. Now that we were sitting close to each other, his eyes examined me closely. A moment later, he finally spoke to me.

Keltarh: You mentioned that you are a spiritual shaman yourself. So I assume that you know how to manipulate spiritual energy?
Sinqularis: That is true. I’m able to channel spiritual energy and use it to cause direct damage on most types of enemies.
Keltarh: Arh yes. Those abilities certainly does come in handy during close combat. But there comes a time for every proud shaman, where he’ll need more protection than his loyal friends can provide.
Sinqularis: What are you referring to?
Keltarh: Give me one moment, and I will show you.

Before I had the chance to reply, the old shaman closed his eyes and dropped into what seemed like deep meditation. I figured that it’d probably be best not to disturb him, and just remain patient. About a minute passed by. Then I noticed a gradual drop in the temperature. Something was going on, and it felt like we weren’t alone inside this cavern anymore. Nervousness struck me hard, but I attempted to remain calm, trusting that the old shaman had everything under control. Then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a beautiful eagle appeared right above us in a cloud of spiritual mist. It’s body was ethereal, making it clear to me that it must’ve been the spirit of a magnificent creature, that passed away long ago. With the long wings stretched out, it circled inside the cave a few times, before landing faithfully on Keltarh’s shoulder. His eyes opened, he smiled and stroked the proud bird softly. Despite being a spirit, it was apparently so effectively merged into our realm, that you could actually touch it. This convinced me that no matter what creature the old shaman summoned, would probably also be able to attack anything living within our realm. I was just sitting there, observing silently, fascinated by what I saw. Then the eagle finally left Keltarh’s shoulder by beating its wings, moving up into the air, before vanishing in a cloud of spiritual mist. A few seconds later, I delivered my response.

Sinqularis: Woah, that was… absolutely amazing. Why on earth did you get banished for bringing forth such magnificent creatures?
Keltarh: Because the chieftain of my tribe considered it a sin to disturb creatures that had found peace in death. He related it to necromancy. But trust me, there is a very clear difference between necromancy and the spiritual summoning that I have practiced.
Sinqularis: What is this difference you are referring to?
Keltarh: With the black magic of necromancy, you force the fallen to rise from the grave as an undead abomination, to join you in battle. But spiritual summoning is a call. And the creatures that appear are the ones who answer it, by their own free will, to protect the shaman in peril.
Sinqularis: That doesn’t sound so bad. Didn’t you try to explain that to the chieftain?
Keltarh: Trust me, young friend, I did. But he was too stubborn to listen. So I was banished from the enchanted forest, and would’ve been executed if I ever showed my face within their territory again.
Sinqularis: Harsh punishment.
Keltarh: Correct me if I am wrong, but I sense that my skills related to spiritual summoning has left you intrigued. Is that true?
Sinqularis: Well, I do find it rather fascinating, to be honest.
Keltarh: Would you be interested in spending the morning here with me, and let me pass this knowledge to you? It could prove very useful in your journey ahead. And it’d be a pleasure to offer you my support.
Sinqularis: Are you serious? But of course! I’d love to.
Keltarh: Excellent! Do keep in mind though, I can only teach you the basics. It’s up to you to master the art of spiritual summoning on your own, by improving through personal experience.
Sinqularis: Of course, that’s comprehensible.
Keltarh: And also remember, the creature you summon is linked to you. So it’s presence alone will slowly drain your energy. But as you practice and evolve, your call may be answered by even greater fallen beasts…

Hours went by, and I absorbed all the knowledge that the old shaman shared, with great interest. Forbidden or not, spiritual summoning would certainly leave me better equipped, for the great dangers that lurks ahead.