Chương 22: Omnimancer 17: Shamanic Magic

Just as Jax's thoughts were about to spiral down a cosmic toilet bowl, the immense pressure disappeared as though it had never been. Only then did Jax finally dare to catch his breath. Before he had a chance to process any of what had just happened, an elder shaman spoke. No chanting this time, though, and he actually sounded very much like a regular old man doling out wisdom from his life.

After thanking the Goddess for her blessing, he began talking about how all things, whether living or dead, were all just threads in the same endless tapestry. He spoke of compassion, of showing kindness at all times. Especially when the world seemed to offer none in return. Jax had to admit, the old man knew how to preach, and even he found himself moved by the time he was done. That his little talk came right after Luxor's echo definitely helped. Talk about one hell of a marketing campaign.

His words weren't fluff at all, either. They really were the sort of advice that only came with age and experience. Which was why he was more than a little surprised that the old man approached him.

"Hello, friend," he said.

"I can sense your spirit is not in harmony."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jax asked, instantly on guard. Sure, he'd done a powerful sermon, but what was he really like? Jax's first impression with the shamans here hadn't been great, after all. The shaman smiled in that knowing way only the elderly can.

"Come. Walk with me." Jax hesitated at first but realized he had nothing to lose and so followed as the man led him down a quiet corridor and up a spiraling staircase that wound around the inside of the great hall.

"What troubles you, friend?" the shaman asked.

"Plenty," Jax admitted.

"But, well, I suppose the biggest one is… purpose." It seemed fitting to open with something vague and harmless to test the waters with.

"Ah," The shaman nodded, crossing his arms behind his back in a gesture Jax found distinctly priestly.

"The question that haunts every soul. We spend our lives chasing meaning, but tell me. Does anyone ever truly find it?" Jax gave him a wry smile, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Right. We either accept that nothing we do has any absolute meaning and try to make our own… or we look for it in something like religion. Right?" The old man gave him a long, appraising look.

"You are well-traveled, I see."

"Not exactly," Jax said, just barely concealing his smirk at how inadvertently correct the man was. He was probably the only human to ever have visited two planets. Or a planet and a mortal plane, rather. He still wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

"You very much are," the shaman said, misunderstanding Jax's words.

"Perhaps not in years, but in the ways of life. In the quality of your time spent. Those are not words you hear from most youths these days, convinced of their righteousness as they tend to be. No, I sense that you have truly seen." He stopped and leaned over a balcony overlooking the city.

"Do not fear your doubt," he said, placing a hand over Jax's chest.

"Let it instead be your guiding star. Doubt is a precious thing, after all. It keeps the spirit on the path to true harmony." Jax grunted noncommittally.

"Maybe so."

"Tell me," the shaman said suddenly.

"What brings you joy in this world?"

"Uh, exploring, mostly," Jax replied, surprised by the random question.

"Finding new places, meeting people, helping where I can."

"As I said, well traveled," the shaman replied.

"Maybe," Jax repeated.

"Actually, there is something that's been bothering me."

"Speak, then," said the shaman with such an impressive fatherly voice. The shaman seemed like reasonable enough. Maybe he'd have better luck getting some information out of him than that asshole from earlier.

"I met a girl here," Jax said, broaching the topic that had been gnawing at him.

"Half her face was burned, one eye missing. Couldn't even speak. I hear your healers tend to people, curing them and healing wounds. For a price, as I understand." It was harder than he'd thought, keeping his voice even, and he wasn't sure if he managed to hide his anger and disgust from the keen shaman.

"But she was out there alone, homeless," he continued, pushing past the wave of emotion.

"Why is it, exactly, that your temple doesn't help?" The shaman's expression changed alright, but instead of the righteous indignation Jax fully expected, he thought he caught a flicker of… was it guilt in his eyes?

"She must not have been able to afford our services," he said quietly. Jax frowned, deciding to cut the bullshit.

"Look, I get charging those who can pay. Hell, ask even more from the wealthy. But where I come from, it's the duty of the faith to help those who can't. Especially when you have so many healers that have enough spare time to go around advertising." The shaman looked away, and his shoulders definitely drooped a bit.

"Ours is not a monolithic religion, as I'm sure you well know. We worship the spirits of nature. We worship the land itself. Ask every mountain city, and they'll all have their own gods. Their unique myths, beliefs, and personalities, all changing and evolving over the centuries. Yet we worship one above them all, do we not? The one who, no matter how far-flung the settlement, how old the religion, never ceases to appear?"

"Luxor," Jax said dryly, feeling like he'd just begun to untangle this twisted knot. The shaman nodded.

"Alas. What you saw was but a drop of the Great Goddess' power, and in her infinite wisdom, she has seen fit to limit the reach of her gifts. Her power must be used sparingly, lest it drain the very life from those who channel it. Though we do help when we can, we cannot save all, much as we wish to."

"Uh, huh…" Jax muttered, sounding very unconvinced.

"I can only imagine how difficult it must be," the shaman said quietly, "for the Goddess to share her majesty with us all. To give that power freely to everyone who needed would exhaust even her divine well. We must wield her Blessings carefully—choosing when and where to use them."

"You're saying you have to ration your powers. Alright, I can maybe understand that," Jax replied, though it very much seemed like they had capacity to spare.

"But why serve only the rich? Or does this have something to do with the Goddess as well?" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I wish I could say it wasn't so," the shaman admitted, clearly surprised at Jax's guess.

"But we are all human, my friend. The temple is part of this city and it is both shaped by and beholden to it. We may wish to serve everyone, yet we must still bow to greater powers." He turned, his expression suddenly firm.

"Do not mistake me. The desire to help, no matter how small, is never wasted. Every act of kindness is a thread in the great fabric of life. Your intentions are noble, and I beg you to never forget that." Spoken like a true servant of God, Jax thought. Still, that he'd acknowledged his glorious Goddess' shortcomings at all came as a surprise, even if he did make Luxor's issues sound like veiled praise.

"Just feels like too little," Jax said, letting out a long breath.

"A drop into an ocean. I don't exactly want to dedicate my life to helping others, but I also can't just sit around doing nothing. It's organizations like yours that can really make a difference." The shaman placed a weathered hand on his shoulder.

"You do not believe me, friend, and it is just as well. Just know that your attitude," he said, putting his finger on Jax's chest, "the fire that burns here is what moves mountains. I've no doubt you'll find your path." Jax gave him a tight smile.

"You say that as a shaman of Luxor?" The old man shook his head, smiling wryly.

"No, friend. I say it as one who has lived long and seen much. The will to do good is the heartbeat of all society. Lose it, and we lose the very essence of what makes us human. Just the ramblings of an old man, as it were." They fell into silence for a while, both gazing out over the sprawling city below. After a time, the shaman spoke again.

"Beautiful, isn't it? The way the earth provides? How people give back?" There was an edge to his voice that gave Jax pause. Something very deliberate.

"Sure," Jax said.

"But there's something more going on here, isn't there? Something you're not saying?" The shaman hesitated, glancing around to make sure they were alone before lowering his voice.

"Our supplies have been dwindling. It is difficult to tend to the needy when so many of our stores are… pilfered regularly."

"Thieves?" Jax asked.

"Surely you've got guards for that sort of thing." The shaman's jaw tightened.

"Not thieves as you'd imagine them. A thief is only a thief when the powers that be say they are."

"Wait, you're saying you tolerate this sort of thing?" The shaman didn't answer, but he hardly needed to. His silence said more than any words ever could. Jax thought back to the smugglers. If they were stealing from the temple and if the government was turning a blind eye… then the whole city's suffering was built on some form of twisted corruption. Corruption that was more or less sanctioned by the goddess they worshiped. His fists clenched. Somehow, that made it so much more unforgivable.

This wasn't people looking out for themselves. This was a goddess not doing her job, pure and simple. It made Jax's blood boil. It made that fire in his chest burn hotter.

"Thanks," he said finally.

"I might look into it." The shaman nodded solemnly.

"Then, friend, I bid you farewell. May the light of Luxor guide your steps." As the man turned to leave, Jax called out, "Can I ask you something?" The shaman paused.

"Of course. Anything."

"I have a friend who's been struggling with her magic lately, and she was asking me about chantless casting. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Jax asked, banking on the fact that 'asking for a friend' wasn't a running joke in this world. His guess was proven correct when the shaman's brow furrowed.

"Chantless casting? Quite an unusual topic, I must admit. Your friend wouldn't happen to be of the higher races, would they?" The man had been honest with him so far, but Jax still didn't feel comfortable talking about his magic with strangers, so he hedged his bets.

"She's human," he said with a shake of his head.

"She's been experimenting with it. She can speed up the chants and apparently she feels something when she moves her body in certain ways. Like, gestures and patterns. But that's where she's stuck. She was hoping you knew someone here who might be able to teach me." The shaman froze, his eyes going wide.

"She… she can truly do this?" the old man breathed, gripping a railing for support.

"Uh… yeah?" Jax said, wondering if he'd just made a huge mistake.

"Friend," the old man said slowly, "even the first step of chantless casting—of accelerating one's incantations—is thought to be nearly impossible. It has been studied for tens of thousands of years, and the texts mention only a handful of history's most powerful Mancers have ever managed such a feat." He stared at Jax as if trying to peer into his soul.

"The greater races, yes," the shaman said gravely.

"But among humans? Nearly never. Please, I would be delighted to meet someone of such caliber. Might you arrange a meeting?"

"Oh, uh," Jax muttered, more than a little shocked.

"That's, uh, that's good to know? I can er, definitely ask her."

"If she wishes to study this further," the shaman said, reaching into his robe, "I suggest one of you go to the temple archives. Here." He gave Jax a small bronze pendant etched with intricate markings that, if Jax wasn't mistaken, contained some Lux.

"This will let you into the lower floors where our oldest writings on the matter are stored. But I must warn you. There are thousands of tomes stretching back millennia. She may spend months searching to find only useless fragments."

"That's alright," Jax said, salivating at the thought.

"Even still," the shaman added, "the masters of old were not always forthright. They hid knowledge intentionally, through metaphor and outright omission."

"Well," Jax said, closing his fingers around the medallion, "thanks anyway. Really. I appreciate it."

"As I said, it is my pleasure to serve," the shaman said, bowing his head before making his exit in that elegant way religious figures the world over seemed to have mastered. Jax stayed awhile to take in the sunset, then made his way back down through the temple's great stone halls and down its massive staircase. With dusk came gusting winds and plummeting temperatures, and at 14, 000 ft, Takora wasn't exactly warm even in the midday sun.

The streets were quieter now as people returned to their warm homes, and Jax spied cozy fires flickered through hazy windows, their chimneys full of smoke. Mist blanketed the streets, dropping visibility and making navigation quite a bit trickier. Still, even if Jax hadn't picked up an excellent sense of direction on the mountains, his minimap showed the way. Takora's design was roughly radial, so navigation was simple enough if you knew where you were and where you were headed.

Jax walked in silence, oblivious to the cold as his mind buzzed with everything that had happened that day. Between the teddies, the stuff at the temple, and the revelations in general, there had been a lot to take in. His thoughts drifted back to the shaman's words about purpose.

Jax didn't delude himself into thinking he was the first guy the shaman had given his little spiel to, and he was very clearly in service of an institution Jax could only see as corrupt, but maybe there was a kernel of truth to the old man's words, unintentional though it may have been on his part. Maybe he didn't need some grand mission or divine calling right off the bat. Maybe it was enough to start out by helping where he could, one step at a time. To right wrongs, no matter how small.

As they said, every summit started with stepping out the front door... Feeling better than he had all day, Jax turned down a narrow alley that his map indicated was a shortcut toward Sagebrush Kiva. He was halfway down when his minimap lit up. [Threat Radar] highlighted three red dots, closing in fast. Too fast. He turned, eyes narrowing. A half dozen men stepped out of the shadows. All of them were broad, muscled men who leaked many times more Lux than everyone he'd seen until now.

He could practically feel the wastage.

"Finally found you. You're a slippery little shit, you know that?" one of them growled. Jax straightened.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Yeah. Matter of fact, you can. You fucked with the wrong people, see," the man snarled.

"The Dead Hands send their regards." Jax stood there, expecting them to clarify.

"Uh, should I know them?"

"Real funny, crowshit. Nobody steals from the Dead Hands. Not if you want to live, anyway. But you knew that already."

"So, what? You're gonna kill me here?" Jax asked mockingly, feeling more annoyed than anything, already muttering a chant under his breath. The man grinned, baring teeth.

"You were dead the second you stole from them, friend. We're just here to clean—" He lunged before finishing his sentence, no doubt hoping to catch Jax off guard. What a pity. Jax was so looking forward to another steam bath. It seemed he'd have to take out the trash first.