With a sudden jolt, Jakob awoke to Asta's voice. "Breakfast," she called through the door. Grunting a reply, Jakob shot out of bed. Panic seized his chest as he realised his mother's necklace was not where he had left it. Frantically, he searched the room, overturning furniture, sifting through drawers, and scanning every corner. The wooden floor echoed with the sounds of shuffling and the clattering of items as desperation and worry crept into Jakob's heart.
His boots thudded against the floor as he moved, his hands shaking with each futile attempt to locate the precious necklace. The room seemed to close in on him, and the urgency of the situation fueled his panic. He called out to Asta in the dining room, desperation evident in his voice.
"Have you seen it? My necklace—it's gone!"
"Calm down," his cousin said as she placed a plate of warm chicken. "Bjari took it with him when he went into town this morning, he said that it was for a surprise"
Jakob tried to calm the flutter of discomfort in his chest as he sat at the table. The absence of the familiar weight of his necklace left an uneasy void around his neck, and he found himself absentmindedly reaching for it, only to be met with the realisation that it wasn't there. Though Asta's assurance that it was with Bjari for a surprise provided some relief, a subtle unease lingered.
As he nibbled on a slice of warm chicken, Jakob's thoughts drifted to the day ahead. Today held a promise of intrigue, and he couldn't shake the anticipation of the surprise Bjari had in store. The idea of living a day without the silver necklace felt peculiar, as if a part of him was temporarily misplaced.
Finishing his meal, Jakob rose from the table and turned to Asta, "I'm heading into town. I want to talk to Acantha."
His cousin nodded, and Jakob couldn't help but wonder what tales Acantha, her stories from the southern world, might share. The prospect of hearing about lands beyond the Maurere's stirred a sense of curiosity in him, momentarily distracting him from the absence of his cherished necklace.
Asta nodded, "I'm going hunting." she replied, "I want to see if I can find a Hukagórn, it's good weather for them."
The answer didn't surprise Jakob as rumours circulated among the hunters, whispers that the creatures, touched by the ethereal nature of the falling snow, momentarily lost their heightened senses. Perhaps the gentle descent of the snowflakes muffled the sounds of the hunters' approach, allowing them to move more stealthily through the frigid landscape. Or, some speculated, the creatures, mesmerised by the serene beauty of the freshly coated landscape, were momentarily distracted.
Yet, despite the lack of concrete evidence, the tradition persisted. It became a dance between the hunters and the magical creatures of Makanor. The hunters ventured into the snowy woods with a sense of reverence and uncertainty, acknowledging the mystery that surrounded their age-old practices. Whether the creatures truly let down their guard or whether it was a mere superstition, the hunters embraced the tradition, finding solace and purpose in the hunt after a snowfall.
Pausing only to grab his rabbit skin cloak Jakob ran out of the door. He was soon glad of this choice as outside the house, the world was painted in soft white sheets of snow. Gripping his cloak to conceal his warmth, Jakob approached Hukapa. Sounds from the village reached Jakob's ears, filling it with shouts and laughter.
The traders had sailed in on a sizable ship that looked about twice as large as the other boats that rested beside it. The ship had made port and a stream of traders headed from the ship to a nearby snow-covered field to set up their stalls. Already villagers were watching them, a group that grew by the minute.
Jakob didn't join them, preferring to watch alone from a distance. His eyes scanned the traders looking for a familiar face. He didn't have to look long as he soon spotted her, Acantha, a young adult, hair redder than a spring rose, heading to the field. Weaving around the villagers Jakob began making his way towards her.
As he grew closer to Acantha, out of force of habit Jakob kept to the shadows hoping to surprise her. Concealed in the shadows of a tree Jakob was about to leap out, until he heard her speak in a voice so quiet that he almost didn't make out the words.
"Isflyt," she said. As Acantha spoke she pushed her right hand away from her as if she was pushing a door open. When she pushed ice blue rune filled circles appeared out of thin air and formed around her wrists. The blue circles, adorned with arcane patterns, hung weightlessly around Acantha's wrists, capturing the essence of a forgotten magic. They pulsed with a subtle glow, resonating with a power that transcended the ordinary. The surrounding snow, touched by the otherworldly display, quivered and then moved with an unseen force, creating a perfect, symmetrical clearing.
Jakob inhaled sharply, awe struck at what was happening. This was magic. She… she used magic to move the snow, Jakob thought, heart racing. He slunk back behind the tree and tried to wrap his mind about what had just happened.
He had known Acantha for years, she was practically family, she had told him stories about the various races of Aliraz; Orcs, Nagas and Vulcas. She had been the first person that had seen and recognized his talent for moving quietly. She was a mage? She could do magic now? Or could she use magic the whole time he had known her? None of this made any sense to Jakob.
However, if he was completely honest, he was intrigued. The initial surprise was replaced by wonder. A dash of curiosity tugged at his heart. What should he do? Should I tell Acantha he saw her perform magic? No, best not to. Jakob didn't want to anger her, not when she could perform magic just like the few stories he had heard of his mother. He got to his feet and pretended to make noises as if he had just stumbled onto the field.
"Acantha," he shouted, a smile nervously painted on his face. She turned her head to follow the noise. When she saw that the voice belonged to Jakob a small smile briefly touched her lips. "It's good to see you" Jakob said
"You are here early," said Acantha, her grey eyes seeming to peer into Jakob's heart. Does she know that I saw her perform magic? Thought Jakob. Metal bracers clinked against each other as Acantha folded her arms. "So…" she said, standing as still as a slab of rock. She knows, thought Jakob, what will I do?
"Are you going to help me, or are you going to continue standing there like a dead fish?" she asked, a smile touching her lips. Relief rushed right into Jakob like a wave. Stammering a reply, he went to her side and helped her raise her stall.
While he worked Jakob wanted to ask Acantha about what he had just seen. However, unsure how she would react he asked a different question, one that Jakob had asked Acantha many times before but still not got a clear answer.
"Why do you wear those bracers?" What Jakob was referring to was thick solid metal bracers that seemed to be made of, what could be best described as, a metal cloth that had been wrapped around Acantha's forearms. They couldn't have been forged before she put them on, the metal seemed to hug the skin and no matter how much Jakob had seen, there was no clasp to remove them.
Acantha replied with the same answer she had given him. "They protect me from danger." Jakob nodded, Yes, the same answer as last time. Talking aimlessly about the Harewaka festival Jakob and Acantha set up the small little stall.
Just as Acantha moved the last of the items onto the display, Bjari approached the stall. Greeting Acantha, Bjari reached into a small pouch and drew a small handful of coins "Thought you would be here, get yourself some treats and be at Kusta's by noon." Jakob grinned and pocketed the coins.
As he prepared to leave, Acantha rested a hand on his shoulder. "Today Jakob, you come of age. From today many things will happen to you, some good and some bad. From today you become responsible for your actions. So, Jakob, remember what everyone has taught you. Be careful and be strong." Acantha smiled, "That is my blessing to you." Bjari nodded in approval and Jakob grinned
"Oh, and I almost forgot. I should be back in Hukapa in about three weeks to see you and your family."
"Really? Why?" questioned Jakob, delighted at the blessing and surprised that he would get to see her so soon.
Acantha nodded and folded her arms. The metal bracers clinked against each other as she spoke.
"It's a surprise," She said, eyes shining like polished metal.
Knowing she wouldn't relent Jakob said farewell to Acantha and Bjari and headed off to explore the other stalls. Jakob wandered through the marketplace, the scent of various goods wafting through the crisp winter air. As he passed by the different stalls, a subtle change in the atmosphere caught his attention. Villagers, engaged in their purchases, paused to exchange knowing glances and nods with Jakob. It was as if an unspoken acknowledgment passed through the crowd—a silent celebration of his coming of age.
An elderly woman selling bundles of dried herbs looked up from her wares, her wrinkled face breaking into a warm smile. She gave Jakob a nod of recognition, as if to say, "Today is your day, young one."
A group of children, playing near a spice stall, paused their game, their curious gazes turning toward Jakob. One of the older kids, a boy with tousled hair, grinned and gave Jakob an exaggerated salute, acknowledging the significance of the day.
Even the traders, absorbed in their business, spared a moment to offer Jakob a nod or a friendly wave. It seemed that the news of his coming of age had spread quickly through the close-knit community. Moving away from the crowd Jakob sat on the edge of a bench and watched the people until noon.
Picking himself up from his seat, Jakob made his way to Kusta's house. As he got to the house, the door was open. Hearing talking in the house Jakob, knocked on the door frame and announced that he was there. The talking stopped and Kusta came to the door. Kusta was a thin wiry man, over middle aged, but people wouldn't have called him old. Greeting Jakob his voice was deep and gravely.
"Brilliant, you're here on time," Kusta said, "Come in" gesturing inside his home. Inside his home was a long wooden table with brown leather cowhide covering it. Around the table stood Bjari, two village elders, and Ingolf, the current head of the Makanor Hunters.
Jakob felt a shiver run down his spine as he stood in front of the assembled group. The room, filled with the hushed whispers of the village elders and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath him, seemed to close in on him. He couldn't shake the nervous fluttering in his stomach, clawing at the edges of his thoughts.
The elder's deep voice reverberated through the chamber, "We are gathered here to celebrate the coming of age of Jakob, son of none." His words stung Jakob but not daring to break tradition he held his tongue and remained silent.
The elder's gaze pierced through him as he continued, "Is there anyone here that refuses Jakob's right to a Tuhianav?" The silence hung thick in the air, and Jakob could almost hear the thud of his own heartbeat. Don't speak, don't speak he silently pleads. The room was so quiet Jakob could hear the sounds of the traders in the distance. No-one spoke, no-one said a word.
"Very well," the elder intoned, and Jakob's shoulders relaxed slightly. Yet, the uncertainty lingered, a ghostly presence that wrapped itself around him.
The elder turned his attention to the gathering, "Is there anyone here who will vouch for Jakob's right to a Tuhianav?" Bjari stepped forward, his voice resonating with a deep certainty.
"I, Bjari son of Ulf, and caregiver of this man vouch for him." The connection between uncle and nephew tightened, a moment of reassurance in the midst of uncertainty.
Ingolf followed suit, affirming his trust in Jakob. The elder tapped Jakob on both shoulders, the symbolic gesture carrying the weight of tradition. A bowl with a pale white liquid was placed in Jakob's hands, and he hesitated for a moment before raising it to his lips.
"Drink this, it will help with the pain." The linseed taste assaulted his senses, and Jakob fought back a grimace. He shook his head, attempting to dispel the lingering aftertaste, his mind racing with the implications of the ritual.
"Take your shirt off and lie down," the elder instructed, and Jakob complied, feeling the cold leather against his skin. The leather circle in his mouth felt foreign, and he couldn't help but bite down harder on it, a physical manifestation of his nerves.
As the elder began the ritual, Jakob couldn't escape the sense that he stood at the precipice of a timeless tradition, a link in a chain that stretched far beyond his understanding. The room seemed to hold its breath, and Jakob's heartbeat echoed the uncertainty that danced in the air.
The elder signalled to Kusta to commence the Tuhianav. Kusta dipped his paintbrush into a mixture of dark hues that resembled the night sky. As he approached Jakob's bare chest and arms, he began to slide the dye across Jakob's chest creating intricate patterns and symbols.
As Kusta worked, an otherworldly sensation accompanied each stroke of the paintbrush. The words in the old tongue, chanted by the elders as Kusta painted, seemed to spark into the paint, causing it to tingle and burn slightly as it slid across Jakob's skin.
Jakob, lying on the table, felt a dual experience—the physical touch of the brush and what seemed like mystical energy infused into the paint. The scent of the paint wafted through the air, and the elders' chants reverberated, weaving a tapestry of transformation.
This painting, a living mural etched into Jakob's flesh, symbolised not just his coming of age but a connection to ancient rites and a lineage that transcended generations. The pain and tingling, interwoven with the spiritual energy, made it a profound and transformative experience for Jakob.
"It's done," said Kusta after what seemed like moments, but had been almost half a day. Jakob opened his eyes and looked down at his throbbing chest. "Here, look at your Tuhianav," Kusta said as he handed Jakob a small piece of polished steel.
Jakob's eyes widened as the mirror revealed the intricate artwork now permanently etched onto his skin.
On Jakob's chest and shoulder, engraved in ink, was a large black cat, a Seligá. The enchantment of the cat clung to Jakob's arm like a cat clung to a tree. The roaring head rested on the upper right side of Jakob's chest. The neck was located on Jakob's right shoulder, curling towards the body which lay upon his right arm. The back of the Seligá positioned on the rear of Jakob's arm, front paws curling and meeting in the middle of his bicep. The tail of the cat started just above his elbow and coiled around his forearm.
Jakob tried to follow one line but soon lost it as it twisted and coiled in intricate patterns. The belly of the Seligá was made of large wave like coils that reminded Jakob of the tip of a fern frond. The hip of the cat was one large coil that seemed to sprout knotwork down the cat's rear legs and back.
As he traced the contours of the Seligá, a profound realisation struck him. The back of the cat, adorned with knotwork, held an unexpected familiarity—a pattern he knew all too well. Following its lines, Jakob discovered the necklace his mother had gifted him intricately woven into the Tuhianav.
Tears welled up in Jakob's eyes, glistening with a mixture of awe and gratitude. A silent acknowledgment of the profound connection between his Tuhianav and his mother's necklace overwhelmed him. The delicate pattern around the cat's neck mirrored the cherished adornment he had worn since his first birthday. In that moment, he felt an inexplicable warmth—a sense of his mother's presence and a cascade of emotions too intricate to name.
Jakob's heart swelled with appreciation for the thoughtful touch added to the design. The Seligá Tuhianav, now a permanent part of him, carried not only the symbolism of Makanor culture but also an intimate connection to his family and the woman who had left him with a legacy. Bjari stepped forward, placing his sister's necklace around Jakob's neck once more, sealing the moment with a single sentence, "My boy you are no more, from now you are a man."