Shards & Echords

Out of the old and into the new

Georn had been hard at panning for hours. This wasn't for gold. It was for a treasure far greater than a simple metal. As a caster of no little reputation his panning had collected a small crowd of interested and vocal bystanders. Like a flock of raucous birds the people lined a ragged circle around Georn offering unwanted advice.
"Careful there, you dropped one."
"He didn't drop it, he let it go you bagg."
"He dropped it."
"There's a blue one. You might want that?"
"He knows what he's after, I reckon."
"Well there's a few skeins to choose from, that's certain."
"Never seen so many!"
"Seen a lot of 'em I suppose? What a bagg."
"What's he doing now?"
"Braiding, like I do my daughters' hair!"

What Georn had done to cause this last question was to begin twining several cords of Colour together. He could only hope that he had the cords tightly bound as he knew only that to bring them together loosely would create a structure prone to weakness. He had created a pair of forks to assist him in the plaiting. Plaiting was the caste word for what the small, forked tridents were helping him create. All this was fine as far as it went but he knew that it was probably a waste of time.


<sub>The woman had been mad. Driven to madness by something she had seen, Georn had recognised. His basic learning of caste healing had given him that much. He might have been a anatomancer if he'd not been more interested in being an enlyvener. He'd given her some coloured yarns to knit with as a pastime, to sooth her. Rather than calm her, the yarns had excited her. She began to rapidly manipulate the yarns. Georn saw that she had the caster's grasp. Whatever she had been, she had been capable and schooled, he could see that. As she brought the yarns together, she clearly repeated words of a one-sided conversation. "Aren't you pretty? I think you might be a queen. You look like you've royal blood under that pale skin. What could your name be? Won't you tell me? Ahh, thank you, your Grace." While saying this she held something small between her thumb and two fingers that only she could see. Georn couldn't say what it might be; the girl's hand, a letter, a flower? Over and over she said the same monologue. She didn't stop until the balls of yarn were gone. Then she stopped as abruptly as if she had been a runaway wagon meeting a stout wall.

Georn had puzzled on this occurrence for over two years. He'd recounted the event to anyone who seemed to have some clarity or knowledge. None could help him. Then on a windy, clear afternoon, he'd met someone who had a partial answer. This fellow's name was Mit. Georn had surmised that Mit was some kind of a thief, with a penchant for artifacts. This Mit had asked piercing questions about the woman's behaviour. He brought to Georn's attention that when she had handled the 'object' she had been addressing it and not a person beyond the object. Mit suggested that it might well be a playing card and Georn had to admit that this explanation seemed to fit rather well. When Georn had said as much, Mit had asked a more troubling question: "What did the yarns have to do with the card though?" Georn really couldn't say. What Georn could say, straight off was that Mit obviously knew why before asking the question. Georn asked Mit to be merciful, which caused the thief to laugh quietly. Mit then said, "Alright, I will be generous but remember, you asked for this mercy. Something like this will follow you all about the place. 'Knowledge is one of the greatest weapons', you know... as is that expression!" With another quiet -- even grim -- laugh, Mit told Georn about the shards of the circular square. Georn had never heard anything of these shards before. He wondered at this thief's sources of learning but he was too involved to remember to ask which academy Mit had attended.

Mit told him that shards were fragments of the previous Realm. This place had been consumed in the greatest of inundations. So massive was the realm-spanning flood that all was destroyed in the deluge of water. All, that is except for the shards. These were the fractured remnants of the former universe. That might be interesting enough for Georn. A study might fill a life's work. Mit went on to detail more. That the shards still held power of a nature essentially foreign to the present Realm. That they could be manipulated by Colour, or at least somewhat safely contained by it. In fact, a whole branch of casting existed that sought them and their power. Georn said had never heard of this, that "No academy nor text had ever mentioned such a type of magickal caste-form." Mit laughed his almost silent laugh and shrugged a reply. Georn was given pause though. The man seemed so damned sure...

"What would the type of casters that work on these shards be called then?" he asked.
"Not sure?"
"So it's a nonsense!"
"Ahh no, more a smallish group, is all. Say you're the second."
"What's that?"
That laugh again, then, "You're the only mortal one. At least as far as I know."
"Me? I know nothing of this... school."
"School might be a little off. But it's a type of casting for sure. Up to you my friend, what you do with the knowledge. Use it or forget about it, makes no real difference to its being a real thing. I imagine you might be wishing you'd looked into it when it's too late?"
"Regrets you mean?"
"You wouldn't want those, right?"
A pause then, "I suppose I wouldn't."
"Who would ?"
"Someone very old and at peace with their life decisions."
Mit bowed deeply. "That my friend is quite astute. May I use that should the occasion arise?"
"Feel free." Despite his misgivings about Mit, Georn couldn't help liking the man. Mit was like a dry wine, difficult to know what to think about it at first but with more familiarity, one became fond of it.
Mit spoke, "So you'll look into the shards then?"
"I will."
"Then you should know that Colour has to be modified to contain the shards."
"Modified? Why?"
"Because Colour is a potent thing but it is certainly not a power from the other realm. That means that it needs modification just to be bale to hold on to a shard. These modified Colours are called, echords." Mit pronounced this word 'echo -- ords', dragging out the 'O' sound from the first to the second syllable. Georn tried the same but it came out sounding like, "Ek-ords". Mit laughed and said, "Close enough. Say it how you will. An echord is related to the basic cords that all casters use to manage their caste arts. What's critical here is the plaiting. This is what allows the Colours used to form the shard into an echord. The shard becomes an echord and tangible in this reality. When you sense or are shown a shard, you will need to grab your cords and get plaiting. They're fleeting opportunities these shards. blink twice and they'll be a-vanishing, you see." Georn could not see but knew himself well. He would see.</sub>

He had never come as close as he was doing this time. The crowd's mutterings were not important. He could easily ignore them. He had all but contained the shard. With a last twist of his wrists, and with a foot firmly at the base of the left trident, he touched his first echord... It shimmered into view through the plaited Colours. This was an abstracted background. Georn could sense nothing of it other than some meaningless pattern of tiny lines. He turned it over, almost afraid to see whether there was anything visible there.

The echord's other side was a portrayal. It was unusual but at the same time like a work of art. Georn marveled at the fact the Colour had manifested in this way, without his mind to guide it. He knew that he'd not influenced the image he looked at. He'd never seen the being on the echord before. He honestly wasn't sure what sort of being it represented. Some grey skinned woman. The appearance was rendered with so little detail that he couldn't be sure if she was attractive or just young. Georn stared at the echord. He began to feel uncomfortable. It was like he was being watched... He realised the crowd was close around him.

"What is it?"
"Some sort of card. Like the rakshahasa favour."
"Bad omened then."
"Get bagged, there's no omens on a card, for Loreds' sakes."
"Measure yourself or I'll take you out."
"Get bagged yourself!"
Georn decided he 'd look at the echord later, in private. He set off, the crowd hastened to be out of the caster's way. Geron walked away without noticing a woman following him.

Mechanics & Inner Workings

Indeterminate at this time.

Significance

Realm spanning.

Rarity

Unique or small in number.

Weight

very little/ negligible

Dimensions

3-4 inches x 2 1/2 - 3 inches

Base Price

Expensive/Priceless