Veil is a set of shields, each adjustable, that form a dome over the Vale. The shimmer effect comes from convection heat transfer caused by the venting of the furnaces and often steam. The Veil thickness tapers from around twenty feet at the base of the dome to around five at the very peak. It is not a “hard shell” type of shield, but rather a set of “resistive” layers, permeable enough to fly through with just the feeling of encountering a sudden stiff crosswind. It can also be walked through slowly.
The Veil functions much like an air curtain you might encounter at a supermarket, and it blunts the effect of even the strongest snow and ice storms, resulting in a warm rain inside the dome. Lighter rainstorms may not even penetrate the Veil at all, or might produce a pleasant mist. Unsurprisingly, the Veil is designed to absorb lightning strikes, which the Hawkbrothers believe a Heartstone attracts. It’s actually the static buildup caused by the Veil itself that does it, but the Tayledras aren’t quite experts in electricity; still, the frequent ionization from the lightning strikes benefits the plant life below, which is part of why Vales are so lush with greenery.
Strictly patrolled small wetlands are developed in the half-mile area around a Vale, host to rice ponds, frog and fish farms, and reed stands. Flax is grown between the wetland patches. Decorated trellises of grapevines encircle the Vale, but like many Tayledras and hertasi designs, they conceal another purpose. The control rods that maintain the shape of the Veil are in every trellis upright, and the outermost ones begin the “tuning” process upon the raw, rough magical energy drawn toward the Heartstone from the surrounding countryside. A hundred or more control stones are placed as decorations in the clearings surrounding the Vale for a quarter-mile all around; they act like a “breakwater” when there is a surge. Together, these stones and rods act as a collimator, accurately aligning and directing the rough magic the Adepts draw in from the many miles around, directly into the Heartstone.
Even a novice Mage will tell you that the biggest danger in using magic power comes from using too much of it. Limiting the amount that is drawn upon is what makes the difference between a miracle worker and a charred corpse. Uncontrolled magical power manifests as excess heat, sometimes in sheets and flares that cause clothing to combust and skin to burn. An Adept is respected not just for his skill at spellwork but for his skill at staying alive.
This brings us to the Heartstone. A Heartstone is a physical object that acts as a capacitor for huge amounts of magical energy, which the Tayledras Mages draw in through the “breakwater” stones, Veil curtain and tuning rods of the Vale. The intent is to take in the flawed, raw, random “strings” of energy, align them, and give that energy a stable place to stay. However, just like the individual “strings,” by the billions, are largely unpredictable, so too can their flow into the Vale be unpredictable. Tayledras Mages work together because they can buffer each other from the surges of the rough magic through skilled use of shields. The Heartstone isn’t just something that’s left running and checked on once in a while.
A Heartstone is crafted on site from rock excavated during that Vale’s construction. Hertasi stoneshaping tools are used to create it, and the most important part of the procedure is the month-long pulling to align the stone’s inner crystalline structure to be as close to perfectly vertical as possible. Traditionally, Heartstones are sculpted as spires or obelisks, and they have a broad base that tapers beneath the visible ground level into a rounded point that seats into a socket in the top of the Vale’s Great Furnace.
The Heartstone’s lower point flares off the excess energy below the surface of the Vale, into the bed of the ceramic-lined beehive-shaped magic-grounding Great Furnace, which is ringed by six to eighteen lesser furnaces. Each of them has check systems both magical and physical (using series of diagonal sliding stones) to handle the shock pressures and temperatures caused by these flares. Every furnace has a system of ceramic-lined tunnels that circulate water (often heated to live steam by the check systems). These provide steady heat throughout the Vale and tunnel systems as well as sterile, fresh drinking water, and they also supply the bathing pools. Several of the furnaces are used to turn sewage to sterile ash, which is then sluiced down through the lowest level of the Vale and out into the valley. Others are used for domestic functions such as garbage removal and cooking, and at least one is always used for body disposal. The Great Furnace always has at least two heavy, adjustable accesses that are used to aid smelting, glasswork, and blacksmithing, with up to six in the largest Vales.
The smithing vents and lesser furnaces are used as inspection accessways when the Heartstone is periodically put into a resting mode, generally at the height of summer. The Great Furnace slowly cools, and Adepts, architects and hertasi go inside every furnace in turn to check and repair any structural problems, replace any damaged slider valves, and seal water tunnel cracks. This is also a time for surface-level celebrations, feasting, and rest.
You can picture a functioning Vale in its simplest form as making order out of a badly jumbled vector field (and it can be seen more complexly as a tensor field, with the control and tuning rods, stones and spells acting upon magical-string factors of stress, strain and elasticity). The area of that vector field increases, over the years, as the Adepts “reach out” farther from their Vale, until ultimately the vectors within the Vale’s reach are judged adequately aligned---and the wild magic has been calmed. Time to move on. Fight monsters, survive, scout. Build another Vale. That’s how it was for centuries.
The thing is, now the Hawkbrothers don’t have to. They have whole new problems, though.
The Mage Storms of around 1,100 years later were ripple effects of the Cataclysm disjunction literally traveling around the planet and returning to their points of origin. The Mage Storms were not “echoed through time,” as some have said. It simply took that long for the waves to travel that distance, and by then they had changed from being disjunction disruptions into more like a “strain” or “sieve” effect. You already know the story of how the Mage Storms were handled and some of the aftereffects. The Storms left “available” magic in a much different state than before. For example, gryphons, whose wingbeats filter ambient magic to be absorbed and processed by their bone linings to produce the lift for their heavy bodies to fly, now have an easier time than ever achieving flight since the ambient magic was now more evenly spread out and “particulate.” Just the same, it created a “fog effect” for anything long-distance, returning magework to a very personal level rather than world- ranging. This really annoyed a lot of people who depended heavily upon long-distance spell effects, most notably the Eastern Empire, and they were already pretty cranky.
It is vital to remember that unlike many religions of Velgarth that have religious faith, the Tayledras and hertasi have absolutely zero doubt—not just that there is a goddess, but that this goddess takes an active interest in them on a personal level. There is no more crisis of faith in Tayledras life that a deity is involved in what you do than there is a crisis that water is wet or that fire is hot. Every Tayledras has a personal encounter with an aspect or representative of the goddess no less than once in their lives, and usually, much more often than that.
Tayledras have stupendously difficult lives in some regards, and while they train and strive to fend for themgelves, sometimes it just isn’t enough. Spirits of ancestors and fellow Tayledras work in the goddess’ service. These spirits—souls detached from physical bodies, incarnated into spirit beings—are each assigned to multiple Tayledras to watch over and help them through things they can not handle on their own. However, a direct intervention takes a lot out of them, so they’ll usually depend upon affecting something small in the physical world. If a Hawkbrother is drowning in a river, they’ll nudge over a weakened branch to clamber onto, rather than teleport the person to dry land. It’s also important to remember that while these guardians have otherworldly insights, they are not omniscient and ideal, and they can screw up.
To be utterly blunt, at present the Goddess Kal’enel concentrates most of her attention on the Shin’a’in because the Tayledras have their magic thing way more together than their Plains brethren, and they don’t usually need her help. In fact, by the time of the Storms, thanks to sixty-some extant Heartstone Vales and near-thousand Adepts, the Tayledras have collectively become the equal in power of any of the Velgarthian deities, though (fortunately?) they don’t realize it.
So, after almost a millenium of continuous hard work to bring order to the wild magic of the Pelagirs, do the Hawkbrothers feel as if their efforts were wasted now that the Storms came along and scraped away what they did to tame it all? Not at all, because they know that they pretty much saved everybody. If the Tayledras had not actively pulled the wild magic into order, the dangers of the Pelagirs would have overrun the whole of the known world.
The Hawkbrothers feel kind of satisfied knowing that. The goddess is pleased.
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