Silverspear (Rise to Omniscience Book 6)

by Aaron Oster

  “Hang on,” Morgan said, then drifted off the ground and rocketed forward.

  He was sure that there had to be something other than barren rock up here, so Grace’s best chance at survival would be for him to push forward. Wind tore at his hair and clothes as he poured on the speed, increasing all the way to his maximum. While he normally wouldn’t take such a risk with Grace on his back, she was out cold and wouldn’t feel the adverse effects. There was also the fact that death was worse than whatever she’d suffer from the speed increase.

  The stone remained barren and empty as he flew, racing against time and trying to spot an end. His flight skill afforded him a top speed of 250 feet per second or 170 miles per hour. And while one might not think this would be dangerous to someone like Grace, Gold had made sure he’d known otherwise. Humans, ones who didn’t have enhanced Strength and high Constitution, simply weren’t built to handle this sort of speed.

  As he flew and couldn’t spot an end, Morgan used Maximum Increase and boosted himself by a further 25%. His speed increased further, pushing faster.

  “Morgan, I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever it is, you’d better hurry!”

  He cursed, wondering if he should try using his short-range teleportation. Gold had specifically warned against it while up here, saying that the old dwarf loved to lay traps. While walking or flying might not set anything off, apparently, teleportation was common enough in Faeland that he’d rigged traps for that. And while a blast might not kill him, he very much doubted Grace could survive one.

  Morgan tried to speed up even more, but seeing as he was already going as fast as he possibly could, that wasn’t really going to work. The ground streaked by below him, nothing more than a gray-brown blur. At this speed, traveling a full mile was only a matter of seconds. With every mile passed, he began to grow more and more worried that this oddly-level peak would continue on for miles yet.

  Then, suddenly, Morgan spotted something very unexpected up ahead. The cliff face seemed to just end.

  He squinted his eyes, trying to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but as he drew closer, he could indeed see that the cliff face ended abruptly. Confusion reigned for just a few moments, but as he drew closer and closer, the truth finally dawned on him. Then, he soared out over the cliff edge and began to freefall.

  Clouds rushed up at him as he lost control of his flight skill, but Morgan didn’t care. The massive, flat cliff finally made sense to him, because it wasn’t a cliff it all. It was a massive wall. How something so huge had been built was beyond him, but he was going to make damn well sure that Gold got a piece of his mind the next time they met.

  If this cliff was a wall, then there had to be some way through near the bottom. Instead, Gold had mapped it so that his only way through, was over. Morgan hit the bank of clouds, tucking his arms in, and angling himself downward. He’d noticed that his body was being slowed and streamlined himself for maximum speed.

  The wind was too loud for either of them to be heard, but Morgan tried to turn his head so that he could get a look at Lumia. Unfortunately, he found the angle to be all wrong, and he couldn’t exactly see her. He was forced to turn back and stare through the mist swirling around them. Falling, Morgan realized, was a lot faster than climbing. They broke through the clouds in only a matter of seconds, whereas they’d been traveling through them for several minutes on their way up.

  The world stretched out before him as he broke through, and Morgan got his first good view of the Soaring Peaks. He could see mountains stretching out into the distance, spot tiny specs — miles away and growing larger by the second — that he assumed to be cities. Streams, lakes, and sprawling rocky fields stretched for as far as the eye could see, and Morgan did his best to memorize everything to note down when they landed.

  The ground seemed to be coming up far faster than expected, and when he ran the numbers in his head, Morgan found that despite what he’d thought of the massive wall stretching behind him, the terrain below was a good deal higher than the terrain on the other side. The air was growing warmer as well, and Morgan could now pick out trees right below them.

  They were now just a thousand or so feet from the ground. Morgan craned his head around, searching for the home of their smith. It didn’t take long, and Morgan caught a view of a tall and oddly shaped stone house before it was blocked by a rise in the mountainous terrain.

  He suddenly felt his control over flight come back, meaning that they were now at 450 feet, and Morgan began to immediately slow himself. He knew that stopping all at once would be bad for Grace, even in her unconscious state. Morgan found that being able to slow down after falling at terminal velocity for some twelve-thousand feet was difficult.

  When he finally landed, Morgan was still traveling near forty miles per hour. He allowed his knees to flex and absorb some of the impact as he hit, feeling chips of stone flake off and spin into the air as he did. The buckles were already being loosened as he landed, and within a few seconds, Grace was on the ground.

  “How is she?” he asked, already dropping to a knee and placing an ear to her chest.

  “She started breathing on her own at about two-thousand feet,” Lumia replied as she hopped off her shoulder.

  Morgan could detect a light thrumming coming from her chest and could clearly hear the intake of oxygen as she filled her lungs. This made him feel a bit better, though only a bit. He wouldn’t feel completely at ease until Grace was awake. Seeing as he didn’t really want to move her while she was recovering, he decided he may as well take the time to continue with his map

  It wouldn’t be quite as detailed as he’d like to be, as he’d been quite high up. He decided that having a basic outline of the entire area was far better than having a detailed map of just a few square miles. He made sure to clearly mark the massive cliff face as a wall on the map. Just because Gold was an asshole didn’t mean he had to be.

  42

  “Ugh, it feels like there’s a stampede going on inside my brain!”

  Those were the first words Morgan heard Grace utter as she came back to the world of the living.

  “Glad to see you’re finally awake,” he said, stowing his pen and taking a rag to clean his hands.

  He’d already finished with the map nearly twenty minutes ago but had been trying to add any details he could. After all, a basic outline of the Soaring Peaks was great, but a detailed outline was even better. But, if he were being honest, there wasn’t much he could really add, and for the last ten minutes, he’d just been staring at the parchment.

  “What the hell happened?” she asked, slowly sitting up and placing her hand against her temples. “And why does my mouth taste like burned meat?”

  Grace looked quite a sight. Her left arm was wrapped to the elbow in bandages, her hair stuck up in odd angles, and the look on her face was a mix of pain, grogginess, confusion, and disgust. The odd strands of blue and green in her hair – she’d added some more coloring – didn’t exactly help with the look.

  “I think I’ll let Lumia explain that,” Morgan said, handing her a canteen and doing his best to hide a smile.

  She looked utterly adorable. She reminded him of a puppy who’d just woken up from a nap and had no idea what was going on. Grace turned to Lumia, who in turn, shot Morgan a glare before launching into an explanation.

  “I’m starting to wonder if it’s at all possible to go a day without being in some sort of life-threatening situation,” Grace muttered as she took another sip from the canteen. “I mean, who the hell could have known that climbing a freaking cliff would almost kill me? And not because of the fall, but because there wasn’t enough air!”

  Morgan snorted as he tried to contain a laugh. Grace was waving her arms about, and with her hair still sticking up all over the place, she looked like some sort of deranged madwoman.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Morgan replied, doi
ng his best to hide his growing smile.

  “What?” she demanded. “Is there something in my teeth? Did Lumia leave some sort of gross meat scraps lodged in there or something? Tell me!”

  The look of horror on Lumia’s face, coupled with Grace’s confusion and annoyance, was too much for him, and Morgan finally started to laugh. This entire situation was too ridiculous, so who could blame him? As Lumia continued to glare and Grace became more and more confused, he couldn’t help but point to her hair.

  Understanding finally dawned in the smaller girl’s eyes, and that turned to complete horror when she reached up and found how bad her precious hair had become.

  “Ahhh! You’re horrible!” she screamed, diving for her pack and fetching her hair kit, as he continued laughing.

  He found himself unable to stop laughing, and continued chuckling as Grace used a brush, then the heating iron to fix and curl her hair. She glared at him the whole time, but Morgan only found this to be funnier and just kept laughing. It took him about ten minutes before the laughter had finally subsided, and he was ready to go. But Grace, it seemed, had other ideas.

  “No way in hell!” she said, still running the long iron bar through her hair. “I’m nowhere close to ready, so you’re just going to have to wait.”

  “We really do need to get going, though,” Morgan pointed out.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Grace said, sarcasm clearly lacing her voice. “But I don’t have perfect hair that never needs to be brushed or combed. It takes a lot of work to keep my hair looking as good as it does, and since you ruined it with all your flying, you’re just going to have to be patient.”

  Morgan thought about using his strict instructor voice to get her moving once again, but at another glare from the smaller girl, decided against it. When she got like this, she reminded him of Sarah. Her stubbornness and unwillingness to listen to reason had been an endless source of annoyance when he’d been younger. Now, he only wished Sarah were alive to annoy him once again.

  “Why do you care about your hair so much?” Morgan asked as Grace continued to work on it.

  She was forced to only use one hand, as her left was still recovering, but that didn’t seem to be hindering her in the least.

  Grace gave him another glare at that, and for a moment, he wondered if that meant she wouldn’t answer. However, she surprised him when she started talking, still smoothing her hair back and carefully curling the ends.

  “I grew up as a poor farmer’s daughter,” she began, keeping her eyes downcast. “My mother left when I was only five. She literally just up and left one night. My father is a tough man and didn’t let that stop him from raising me while working in the fields. When I was old enough, around seven, I started helping. Where I’m from, farming isn’t really women’s work. We’re supposed to go learn something more suitable, like how to do our numbers, cook and clean, and all that other nonsense.

  “My father thought it was stupid and outdated, and since he had no one else to help, I was happy to do the work. He did his best raising me, but he couldn’t afford nice clothes or dresses, and wearing anything even remotely pretty is just asking for it to get ruined when working in the dirt all day.

  “The boys in town used to tease me and pick on me because of that, and the girls didn’t want to play with me because I was too dirty and rough. I got into a lot of fights, and as you can guess, that didn’t exactly help me make friends…”

  Grace trailed off, quickly moving a hand to wipe away the moisture from her eyes. Morgan didn’t say anything, knowing that her finally opening up to him about her past could not be easy, and interrupting her could get her to clam up once again. The pause didn’t last long, and soon, Grace was continuing her tale.

  “This went on for a couple of years. In that time, we had a famine, and our crops failed. We went hungry for almost three months before the next crop could grow, and in that time, both my father and I lost a lot of weight. I was already quite thin and boyish for my age, but this made things even worse.

  “I stopped going to town and began spending most of my time at home. My father began to worry, but there was little he could do to stop the teasing. We were poor, so he couldn’t exactly go and get me any dresses or ribbons to make me look prettier. By that time, I’d already cut my hair short to keep it out of the way, and that only added to my misery.

  “But then, on my ninth birthday, my father bought me a brush. It wasn’t just any old brush, but one that had come all the way from the capital. A small pamphlet came with it, showing the latest styles of hair that all the important people were wearing at the time. My father then explained to me that even though I only had baggy and old clothes, there was one thing I could always care for, no matter how grimy or dirty I got. It was something that would only cost me the time and care I gave it.

  “I don’t know why, but that really stuck with me. Hair grew, just like the plants I was so used to cultivating. I started to let my hair grow out, using the brush each and every day to keep it as neat as I could. I discovered that just like plants, the more care I gave it, the better it would turn out. I started coming out of my shell after that. Having my hair look neat and pretty every day finally made me feel like a girl, and not the raggedy tomboy that everyone saw me as.

  “Sure, I couldn’t wear pretty dresses, but no matter what happened, my hair was always perfect. By the time I was ten, it was long enough that I could really start to work with it, and for my birthday, my father bought me another brush, this one round with fine bristles. Following the pictures I had from the previous year, I began to try out different styles, and before long, I was getting them to look pretty good.

  “The boys and girls in town still teased and shunned me, but by then, I didn’t care. Because I knew that I always had prettier hair than all of them. It was about being petty at first, to show them that I wasn’t who they said I was. But over time, I began to really appreciate the art, all the different styles, and everything I could do with it.

  “I know it might seem silly to have so much invested in something like hair, especially with wars raging and me fighting all the time. But it’s just who I am…”

  Grace trailed off, lowering her brush and finally looking up to meet his eyes. Morgan could see the doubt, the fear, and the vulnerability there. Grace had poured her heart out to him over a very sensitive and clearly important topic. She was afraid because she didn’t know how he’d react, what he’d say, or if he’d dismiss her hair obsession as something ridiculous.

  He knew that whatever he said next would stick with her and define their relationship moving forward, so he had to be very careful with how he chose to respond. He felt a nudge from his leg and didn’t have to look down to know that it was Lumia. She was clearly thinking the same thing and was reminding him not to screw this up.

  “It’s not silly,” Morgan finally said. “The way you describe it, caring for your hair was what got you through a pretty dark part of your life as a child. Everyone faces hardship in a different way. My life was…complicated. There was a time when I was out on the streets, living on my own, and the only thing that got me through that was a…friend.”

  Morgan had to fight hard not to allow his voice to catch when he said the word ‘friend.’ Sarah had been more than just a friend. She’d been his saving grace, the only reason he’d turned out as well as he had. She’d give him food, kindness, and compassion when all everyone else saw was a filthy street orphan. Grace hadn’t had that.

  She’d had a father and a home, and though she’d faced some hard times, she always had what to eat. Her pain had come from a different place. She hadn’t had any friends. No one her own age had cared for her, and even the support of a parent wouldn’t be enough to completely negate something like that. But Grace had found something else to occupy herself with, a hobby that turned into a passion. It was something to make her feel better about herself and help her rise above the teasing and meanness of the other children.

  “Who was
your friend?” Grace asked quietly.

  Clearly, he hadn’t been as careful in concealing his emotions as he’d thought, as Grace had detected the somber mood. Her expression was laced with concern and a bit of apprehension. He knew he could lie to her, tell her that his friend had moved on or gone somewhere else. That would be the wrong move, and he knew it.

  “She died,” Morgan said in a quiet voice.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Grace said. “How did she die?”

  “She was killed by a monster,” Morgan replied. “Right before my very eyes, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to save her.”

  Morgan felt something wet on his cheeks, and only then realized that he was crying. He’d allowed his emotions to slip too much during the conversation and could feel the pain beginning to creep in. He was sure he would never get used to the crushing sadness of her loss and the endless grief that had plagued him every time he’d opened himself up.

  A small body pressed into him, and Morgan felt Grace’s arms wrap around him in an awkward embrace. He was sitting with his legs crossed and she’d had to lean in to do it, so the positioning was a little off. As Morgan looked down at the smaller girl, who was squeezing him as tightly as she could, he felt some of the pain fall away.

  They stood there like that for several long minutes. Grace, squeezing him, and Morgan just sitting there and staring at her. Finally, the smaller girl pulled back, and he could see that she’d been crying as well.

  “Why are you crying?” Morgan asked.

  “I’m crying for you,” Grace answered, swiping at her eyes. “Everyone thinks of you as some larger-than-life figure. A powerful supermage that can’t be hurt no matter what. But you feel pain and loss just like everyone else. I know it sounds weird coming from someone like me, someone so young and inexperienced. But I’m here for you. If you ever feel like talking, you always can count on me to listen.”