by John Bierce
“No offense,” one of the mages said, “but you are just a student, and…”
Hugh began assembling the pattern unlinking and pattern linking spellforms in his mind’s eye.
“By any chance, did you hear about the attempted coup in Theras Tel a year ago?” Hugh asked.
“Yes, but I don’t see…” one of the mages began.
“Did you hear about a ward someone built to shield the city from a storm while Indris Stormbreaker lay poisoned?” Hugh asked.
“Well, yes, but…” the same mage said, looking confused.
“That,” Hugh said, “was me. I made that ward. I’m Hugh Stormward.”
He flooded mana into the pattern unlinking spellform, then snapped his fingers for show. The chalk ward puffed into a dust cloud off the rough stone. Hugh then dropped the unlinking spellform and channeled mana into the pattern linking spellform. The chalk dust flooded past his legs and back into the sticks of chalk the mages were holding, rapidly growing them back up to size.
The instant that spell was complete, Hugh turned his attention, and the pattern linking spellform, onto the rough stone. A band of stone, as wide as a long stride, simply flattened itself out as Hugh reshaped the crystals of the stone into something stronger and harder— a particularly strong variety of sandstone cemented with quartz. Within the band, Hugh began to grow the ward’s spellform structure out of pure quartz. Within moments, the rough, uneven stone began taking the appearance of dressed stone inlaid with shining quartz crystals.
Hugh walked at a steady pace behind the ward as it grew. It cut across the different-angled rock layers its roots running several feet deep. The lines of the spellform were precise and flowing, and Hugh took no shortcuts with his work. His will-imbuing abilities let him take those sorts of shortcuts quickly and easily, with little risk of failure, but the wards he made that way weren’t as durable over the long term, and right now, Hugh was aiming to impress.
He honestly couldn’t believe he’d claimed the title of Stormward out loud. It had seemed a cruel joke to him for some time, and he’d been happy just being Hugh of Emblin.
Well, maybe not happy about it. He’d long since gotten tired of the weird looks that people gave him for being a mage from Emblin. And he didn’t really have any attachment to Emblin any longer, nor any desire whatsoever to visit it again.
So, alright, he kind of hated being Hugh of Emblin. But Hugh Stormward sounded so… pompous and overblown, and it almost seemed like bragging to use the title.
But, then, as awkward as it felt to admit to himself, he’d earned it. Not by himself— he never could have done it without the help of Sabae and the crew of the Moonless Owl— but he had done it, and if there was one thing in his life he was unabashedly proud about, it was his skill with wards. Even without his will-imbuing warlock powers, he was already better with wards than many professional warders. There were definitely lots of better warders out there, but none he’d ever met. The only better warder he personally knew of was his teacher, Loarna of the Vault.
Who, admittedly, he’d never actually met in person, as she gave her classes as a series of elaborate tests, challenges, and riddles, never showing herself to her students.
It took him a little over an hour for him to curve the ward all the way around the party site. He likely could have done it in ten minutes or less, if he had been alright with a rush job, but Hugh intended to build something that would really last. He ignored the questions bombarding him from the Radhan mages as he went. His ward was considerably larger than the one they had planned, and far more intricate, with three interlocking layers of ward stretching all the way around.
“Your old ward blocked outgoing light,” Hugh said. “It did so indiscriminately and completely, meaning that on a bright night, the inside would have been just a mysterious dark splotch. It blocked all sound just as indiscriminately, so anything that navigated by sound would surely have noticed the mysterious dead zone. Your ward also used a gratuitous amount of mana that would have required a mage constantly on duty.”
He tapped the new ward with his foot. “My ward, on the other hand, only blocks out light in excess of the ambient light while active, meaning that light passing in from one side will still pass out the other normally. It only blocks out sound generated inside the ward, but lets outside sound pass through easily.”
One of the Radhan mages raised their hand. “Couldn’t something with sufficiently good night vision still see the revelers inside it with ambient light levels?”
Hugh nodded. “They could, but I’ve also taken care of that. I had a couple of choices there. First, I could have effectively turned the ward into an illusion field that projected an illusion of blank stone there, but that would have been prohibitively difficult on short notice, especially since I’m not trained as an illusionist at all. The other option, which I ended up going with, is constructing an attention ward. Anything that goes by that doesn’t already know what’s behind the ward will simply have its attention turned away from it. It’s easier to construct, uses less mana, and is less prone to failure. On top of that, it uses half as much mana as your ward would have and should last for decades.”
“I feel like a big fancy ward like this is a little noticeable,” one mage said.
Hugh smiled and channeled a bit of mana into part of the ward. Unlike almost all the other functions, once started, this one would be able to sustain itself off ambient mana from the aether from here on out, unless this island became a mana desert.
“Step outside the ward,” Hugh said, and did so himself.
The instant he did so, the ward simply vanished from sight, and looked like rough stone again. The people inside were still clearly visible as they went about preparations for the celebration, as was his spellbook, who had stolen a tablecloth and was attempting to abscond with it, but when Hugh’s eyes tried to focus on the ward, they just slipped right off it. The instant he stepped back inside, the ward became visible again. The ambient mana was more than enough to keep attention off the ward itself.
The other mages moved in and out of the ward for a while, clearly excited, while Hugh lectured them on activating the ward for the party, and on its other functions— most notably the other one that ran on ambient mana, the one that dealt with damage to the ward. If the damage was below a certain threshold, it would slowly heal the crystal structure of the ward over time. If, however, the damage exceeded that threshold, it would collapse and destroy the ward. Damaged, malfunctioning wards were a danger to anyone around them, and many warders made entire careers around removing aging and damaged wards, often after they’d killed or wounded some innocent. Building a collapse function into a ward intended for more than temporary use was absolutely essential for any ethical warder.
There were a couple other functions as well— if you pumped more mana into it, it could also turn aside strong winds and inclement weather.
Hugh left the mages to play with the new ward, then headed for the cliff edges overlooking the harbor. He constructed another ward there by reshaping the crystals in the stone, this ward buried deep inside the stone out of sight. It plunged vertically downward from the top of the cliff all the way to the bottom of the natural harbor, and well out under the seabed.
Around that time, his friends wandered down to see what he was up to, having noticed his construction of the first ward from their outlook. Hugh explained his plans, and they eagerly signed onboard. Godrick and Talia went down the ramp to start, while Sabae went to fetch Artur to help.
Hugh, meanwhile, used a levitation spell on himself to lower his weight down to almost nothing, then took a running leap, soaring across the mouth of the harbor. He barely made it across to the other side— he’d underestimated the force of the levitation spell he’d needed, but that was easily fixable mid-leap. He made sure to use his stellar mana reservoir to power the levitation spell— his crystal mana reservoir was by far the largest, but he’d need it to finish the ward.
His land
ing was less than graceful, however. It was more of a crash than a landing, really.
After he dusted himself off, he constructed another, identical vertical ward inside the cliff running down to and under the seabed, eventually connecting it to the ward coming down from the other cliff underneath the seabed.
He had to take a break for a half hour after that— growing wards in the crystal structure of stones at those distances was immensely draining, both mentally and on his aether reservoirs. Last summer, his affinity senses could never have reached all the way down the hundred-some foot cliff, nor could his mana reservoirs have handled its construction in such a short time.
Once his mana reservoir had refilled enough, Hugh drew another segment of the ward branching off the second vertical ward. It curved along in the stone deep beneath the clifftop around the harbor, eventually reaching all the way around to connect to the top of the other vertical ward. The final shape of the ward was something like a pair of horseshoes connected at the tips, sitting at right angles to one another.
Hugh climbed down the ramp for the final step. He consulted with Sabae again, because he’d only ever constructed the spellform once before, when building the Stormward around Theras Tel. He reshaped the crystals in the stone beneath the seabed especially carefully for the windlode spellform— it needed to be absolutely perfect to work. He then built a series of false spellform lines to further confuse anyone trying to analyze it. He was, so far as he knew, the only person outside the Kaen Das family who knew the windlode spellform, which allowed the caster to tap into the thickened aether that drove before storms. The resulting mana was somewhat limited in terms of what it could be safely used for, but wards were one of those things.
The massive new ward that covered the top and entrance to the harbor had many of the same functions as the party ward did, though it didn’t need to conceal itself from direct sight, being buried beneath the stone. It performed all those functions on a much greater scale, however. On top of that, it had the capability to shield the entire harbor from storms using the windlode. It drew more heavily from the ambient aether than the first ward, but a mage would have to be paying exceptionally close attention to the decently thick aether here to notice the draw-down.
Godrick and Artur, meanwhile, had greatly improved the quality of the tilted sandstone ledge, making it into a proper road leading up, and roughening the stone so it didn’t get as slick while wet. They’d also shaped several benches along the cliff wall to rest on the way up. Talia, meanwhile, had carved a series of caves into the mudstone layer using dreamfire. That process had sent lambent smoke, melting ice butterflies, and unpleasant sounds into the harbor. The caves could be used for emergency shelter, storage, or whatever purpose the Radhan saw fit.
Their work had drawn the attention of quite a few Radhan, but they refused to explain until they were done— at which point they were happy to explain and bask in the attention.
The five of them had turned the nameless little island with the natural harbor into a far more secure, permanent refuge. Only someone who already knew about the harbor’s existence could find it now, and so far as the Radhan knew, they were the only ones who ever came there. Even the ladder Godrick had shaped into the stone spire earlier out of boredom could be used as a lookout, and the handholds would be almost invisible from a distance. That hadn’t actually been part of the plan, but Hugh couldn’t help but notice that Godrick didn’t mention that part.
If the Radhan had been fans of theirs before, they were absolutely thrilled now. Quite a few of the Radhan were already speaking of permanently shifting some of the trade routes to use this harbor as a rendezvous point and stopover.
To Hugh’s irritation, Sabae proposed that the until-now nameless island be renamed Stormward’s Gift. Hugh glowered at her for that one, especially when the Radhan adopted it happily. They even had Godrick and Artur carve the name into the harbor wall. He might have come to grips with it as a title, but naming the island after him was just too much.
It did occur to him that it benefited her family as well, given how the title Stormward was associated with the Kaen Das family. Weirdly, that actually made him feel better about it, since it took some of the pressure off him.
It honestly didn’t bother him that Sabae tended to have multiple motives for everything she did. Hugh genuinely trusted that she meant the best for him and the others, and it wasn’t like he, Talia, or Godrick were any good at scheming or politics.
It was about at this time that Alustin showed back up, looking a bit disheveled. Hugh couldn’t help but notice the tall sailor Alustin had been flirting with when the Cormorant left Lothal looked equally disheveled, and had also only recently shown up.
Hugh just rolled his eyes at that.
To his embarrassment and discomfort, he kept getting hugged and thanked over and over by the Radhan. It was actually a bit of a relief when the sun hit the horizon, and the party from Skyhold were all banished to the ship.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sphinx Eyes
They weren’t banished to the ship for the whole evening, of course. Just for the actual religious ceremony.
Their banishment also included a fairly sizable feast for them, with about twice as much food as six people could reasonably be expected to eat.
They certainly gave it their best shot, though.
After they ate, Hugh dragged himself back to his cabin and managed to struggle into the upper bunk, feeling as though he’d tried to eat his own body weight. The others were still in the mess hall enjoying themselves, but Hugh was feeling a little mentally exhausted from the day and wanted a chance to be alone for a little while.
He vaguely considered trying to take a quick nap, but figured he’d be better off just staying awake, so he called his spellbook to him to try and get a little bit of reading done in the light coming in from the passageway.
He spent a few minutes persuading his spellbook to show him a list of books it had stored within it. Most were dry texts on wards and spellform construction, but as much as Hugh enjoyed that sort of thing normally, he was definitely looking for something a bit lighter to read at the moment.
Finally, Hugh settled on a novel Alustin had given him when he first refurnished Hugh’s secret room in the library. Hugh had fed his spellbook nearly every book he owned at this point. Hugh always intended to read more novels, but it always seemed to slip his mind when he was choosing a new book to read.
Something odd happened when his spellbook tried to form the text of the novel on its crystal pages, however. It wasn’t the print of the book that appeared at all, but Kanderon’s distinctive handwriting.
Lasnabourne is dead.
The handwriting that responded to her was graceful and precise, each letter flowing into the next.
Was it the current Kaen Das ruler?
No, it wasn’t Ilinia. And it is astonishing that you cannot bother yourself to learn the name of a mage that could so easily defeat you in battle, and that even I would be hard-pressed against.
I’m sure she could, but she’s still just one of the ephemerals. She’ll pass away of old age soon enough. Besides, I’m most of the way across the continent from her, and we have no reason to clash. Not least because she is a part of your… what did the Havathi call it? Your Coven?
Your complacency will be your undoing someday, Keayda.
So you’ve claimed for centuries now, Kanderon, and it’s not come true yet. Tell me, though— if not the current Kaen Das, then who?
Who do you think? Lasnabourne was warned about his diet. Again and again those of us old enough to remember warned him to change it. Even leviathans and kraken are not so foolhardy as he. Lasnabourne might have been old, but only in comparison to humans and dragons. He was a hatchling the last time they were on Anastis. You remember how powerful they are.
I have heard nothing of their return from the Council. Are you sure?
The Council is divided, and we cannot trust them to tell us everyt
hing. Half of them oppose our purpose. Besides, I personally visited Lasnabourne’s island just two days past. I saw them offshore, Keayda. They may bear us no ill will, nor even much interest, but we must watch them nonetheless. If they begin to depart again, so soon after arrival, we will know our fears are coming true. We must watch and see whether they are the harbingers of their greater kin’s arrival, or are merely here to evacuate their lesser kin from the coming of the…
The text collapsed into the opening pages of the novel. Hugh tried to call it back, but the spellbook seemed utterly bewildered at his command, as though it didn’t know what he was speaking of.
That… that had been a conversation between Kanderon and the lich Keayda. One speaking of the death of another great power, Lasnabourne. Somehow, his spellbook digesting the communications diary must have meddled with its enchantments somehow. That was an absolutely terrifying thought, and not one he had any desire to share— Kanderon would not react well to finding out that his spellbook had accidentally violated the sanctity of her correspondence.
If Hugh remembered correctly, the phoenix nested in the islands southwest of the Ithonian continent. He wished he had his copy of Galvachren’s Bestiary, but it was one of the only books he hadn’t fed to his spellbook so far.
Over the last couple of years he’d come to realize that the Bestiary was, at least in part, a guide to the great powers of the Ithonian continent. It was where he had first learned of Keayda, Lasnabourne, and many other great powers, but he had doubted his spellbook could digest the book— both thanks to its enchantments that let every copy change when Galvachren altered his master copy, and thanks to its sheer, mind-boggling size. Hugh had trouble lifting the tome even with both hands.
Hugh was wracking his brain trying to remember more details about Keayda and Lasnabourne, while also trying to desperately commit every detail of the message to memory. He didn’t dare recopy it into his spellbook— accidentally eavesdropping on one of Kanderon’s private conversations was bad enough, but recording it?
