by Eric Vall
With a clap on the shoulder, I left Barnick to get on with his new job despite Wyresus's desperate rebuttals, and I was still chuckling when I left the library behind and led my women out of the Oculus.
The prospect of finally wringing some productivity out of Wyresus almost outweighed my concerns about tracking down the mage camp, and Cayla and Aurora both agreed that was next on the list after getting the snatcher into action.
Haragh abruptly announced he would not be joining us on that mission even if I paid him, and this seemed fair.
At least I could rest easier knowing that whatever we found when we returned to the eastern foothills, I was already closer to countering the Master’s rune knowledge as best as I could.
As long as Barnick followed orders and didn’t kill Wyresus before this was accomplished.
We took our time strolling through Serin on our way to Bobbie since the citizens were still bustling about in agitation. King Temin had already sent out messengers to inform his subjects of the announcement he would be making at the castle this evening, but I listened to a few of their concerns while we helped to clarify the sentry’s role here.
Most of citizens trusted my word, but a handful of older, more suspicious-minded folks were determined to wait for their king’s explanation of what they called “the new Flynt weapon.”
Eventually, we made it back to Bobbie, and we headed to Falmount Rift knowing the Oculus was finally in good hands.
Cayla and Aurora spent the drive imagining what I might be able to use the third channeling gem for, and they admired the strange amber hue of it while they held it up to the sunlight.
It was the largest of the gems I’d found in Mors Pass, five-inches at its broadest point, and it was the one I’d sensed buried forty feet below the surface.
Haragh always had a talent for working with gems, and after taking some time to study it more closely, he agreed with me about the potency of its power.
The frequency it gave off when I sparked my Terra magic was three times that of even Bobbie’s channeling gem, which was why I saved it rather than use it on the sentries.
I could tell this one was incredibly strong, and I wanted to use it for something that would ensure the Master’s utter downfall. I wasn’t sure what that would be yet, but the women decided it had to be made of metal, function with rune magic, and according to Cayla, “Deliver ten times the impact of the bazooka.”
We found the snatcher dutifully guarding the house when we got to the village, so I assumed Shoshanne was still working on the tranquilizers with Raynor. I instructed him to post himself in the western woods for now, and I told him to use his hand-to-hand abilities if anything should happen out there.
Then we entered the atrium to find Deya perched on the worktable, and she looked as pale as death while she trembled and stared at us.
“What happened?” I demanded, and I immediately came over to pull her into my arms while I worked to ease her shaking.
Deya was like ice in my hold, though, and when I pulled back to check her expression, she looked terrified.
“Tell me.”
“Did the scales not work properly?” Aurora asked nervously as Cayla and her joined us.
“They work,” the elf assured her.
“Then what’s wrong?” Cayla asked gently.
Deya’s violet eyes were wide, and she struggled to keep her tone steady.
“I transmuted with one of the dragons while you were gone, and I found the mage camp.”
My pulse quickened as I considered the look on her face.
“And?” I led.
“It’s not a camp,” Deya informed me. “It’s an entire fortress, but … there’s not just mages there.”
No one said a word, and I knew none of us wanted to ask the question looming in the air. My mind raced through a dozen unsettling possibilities, but I didn’t say any of them out loud. I just stood there and wished we’d gotten at least one day of peace before this bomb was dropped on us.
Deya sat on the worktable with my hands still clutching her slender arms, but when she realized I was kind of beyond speaking at this point, she swallowed nervously.
Then she flicked her violet eyes toward Haragh.
All of us turned at once, and the half-ogre stared back in confusion before he caught on to what that brief look had meant.
“No,” Haragh growled. “It’s not possible. He didn’t. He couldn’t. The Ogres are safe at the western coast. They’re a hundred miles from here. They’re not … they’re not … ”
I could practically feel the fury radiating from the man when he fell silent, and we were all still frozen where we stood when Shoshanne came strolling in with a smile on her face.
“Everything is arranged, and I already--” Shoshanne started, but then she read the room as her smile fell. “What happened? Is this the Nemris thing?”
I let out a harried sigh that could have been a chuckle, I wasn’t really sure. My mind didn’t seem to be functioning at optimal speed all of a sudden, but damn it if there wasn’t always one more thing being added to the list of outrageous shit I had to handle.
Whether the Master had captured all of the ogres, or some of the ogres, or even Haragh’s own family members was now on the list, including this fortress no one in four kingdoms knew anything about all this time.
But I still needed to save and train the mages, and speak with Shoshanne and Deya, too.
In retrospect, this last one seemed like less daunting of a task now.
I would just have to find a casual way of explaining to more of the women I loved that I was sent here from another realm by a goddess I’d slept with several times over multiple lifetimes. Including this one.
Then I’d be back to kicking ass and peeling the Master’s rune off every living thing from one doomed coast to another.
“So …” I tried with a half-hearted grin, “any chance you two ladies know what a realm is?”
End Book 8
End Notes
Thank you for reading Metal Mage 8. Once I hit 100 reviews I’ll start working on the next book! Please leave your reviews here! Thank you!
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Eric Vall
