by John Bierce
Hugh wasn’t often impressed with others’ ward-work these days, but Alustin’s was excellent. Nowhere near Hugh’s own, but excellent nonetheless.
“I take it there’s something you’d like to discuss with me?” Alustin said. “I’m imagining it’s nothing to do with Sica’s ingenious food preservation methods or the like. No one ever seems to share my interest in comparative agricultural magic.”
For all of Alustin’s jokes, his gaze was sharp as it passed over them, and Hugh shuffled nervously as it passed him. Sabae had been alarmingly interested in what he’d told her about the intercepted messages his spellbook had been showing him.
She’d also told him that it was highly unlikely he was receiving them accidentally.
Hugh couldn’t imagine why Kanderon would possibly be leaking sensitive messages to him, even if he was pacted with her. This was one of the few times he’d ever disagreed with one of Sabae’s political assessments.
No one spoke for a long, drawn out pause, and Alustin calmly pulled out a wineskin from his tattoo to take a sip.
Hugh, Talia, and Godrick all exchanged confused glances. Hugh knew that Sabae had been suspicious of Alustin for some time now, but he still didn’t exactly understand why.
“What are the Cold Minds, Alustin?” Sabae asked.
Alustin literally spat the wine out of his mouth.
He coughed a few times, stared at Sabae, then took another drink.
A deep one.
Finally, Alustin sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Where in the name of every single fallen mage did you hear of the Cold Minds?”
Sabae just crossed her arms.
“Ah don’t appreciate yeh keepin’ things like this from me,” Artur said. “Ah’ve got no illusions about coddlin’ mah son, not in times like these, but this is clearly important.”
“They’re the reason you’re so worried about the return of Imperial Ithos, aren’t they?” Sabae asked.
Alustin took another drink while everyone stared at him.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Yes, they are. I’m warning you now, though, once you learn this, you won’t be able to unlearn it, and your sleep won’t thank you.”
“Isn’t all knowledge the sort you can’t unlearn?” Talia asked.
Despite the tense situation, both Artur and Alustin chuckled at that.
“Ah think every teacher ever wishes that were true,” Artur said.
Alustin’s face quickly turned serious again, though. “If you really want to hear, I’ll tell you about the Cold Minds. But I genuinely want you all to consider if you want to hear it. I’ve had nightmares about them for several years since I first found out about them.”
No one moved, though Hugh was certainly tempted.
Alustin sighed again, then sat cross-legged on the floor. “Well, don’t make me crane my neck up at you all.”
Once they were all seated, Alustin ran his gaze across them all. “Artur, much of this is probably review for you, but bear with me. Do any of the rest of you know exactly what an aether construct is or how mana reservoirs work?”
Everyone but Artur shook their heads, though Talia was a bit hesitant about it.
“There are certain magical structures that bridge the gap between the aether and the physical world,” Alustin said. “The most common of these are mana reservoirs, whether artificial or natural. Your mana reservoirs all exist primarily in the aether, though they’re anchored to your mind in the physical world.”
“The mind is physical?” Hugh asked.
Alustin nodded. “It’s… a little complicated, but yes, essentially. The mind doesn’t normally have any existence outside of the brain. And before you ask how we know, the answer is, of course, disgusting, unethical, and terrifying experiments by the Ithonian Empire in its last days. That’s nearly always the answer with questions like this. Anyhow, when you absorb mana from the aether and convert it into attuned mana, you then transfer it back into the aether into your mana reservoirs. I mentioned cats being able to see into the aether? They’re seeing your mana reservoirs floating there, along with some other magical structures that connect with your brain that allow you to do magic. They’re not there when you’re born, but they form over the course of your life as you exercise your mind’s eye, and then they fully congeal at a certain point in puberty. On an interesting side note, the—”
Artur coughed, and Alustin caught himself before he could go down a tangent. “Right. Artificial mana reservoirs are aetheric constructs that are anchored inside an enchantment. There are a few other unusual types of aetheric constructs, and there are certain magical materials that exist to some small degree inside the aether as well. Magical tattoos, like Talia’s, also exist partially inside the aether.”
“What about yours?” Sabae asked. “Are you storing things inside the aether, or…?”
Alustin shook his head. “Magic can’t significantly affect the aether in any way except drawing mana from it. It purely acts upon the physical world. Magical tattoos are a whole complex topic, but there’s really just an extra-dimensional space anchored to my arm.”
Hugh had actually known that part, though Kanderon hadn’t started him seriously studying their planar affinity yet, beyond a few texts covering some necessary background material.
“That’s all a vastly shortened introduction to the topic,” Alustin said. “But it about covers what you need to know to start on the Cold Minds.”
Alustin lightly drummed on the floor, then took another sip of wine. Then, to Hugh’s surprise, he passed it to him.
“There are two main ways universes die,” Alustin said. “The first, and more spectacular, is by going aether critical. I believe I told you about that last year. Growing numbers of mana wells lead to rapidly escalating levels of aether density, which leads to faster decay of the universe in question, in a never ending and rapidly accelerating cycle. Also produces demons as a side-effect— they’re simply organisms adapted to hyper-dense aether.”
Everyone nodded. Hugh took a sip of wine, then passed the skin to Talia.
“The other main way universes die is slower and more miserable,” Alustin said. “Instead of happening over the course of millennia, it happens over the course of countless aeons. The universe grows colder and drifts apart, and one by one, the stars all go out, leaving only a frigid void filled with orphan worlds. These universes are where the Cold Minds are born.”
Alustin shifted uncomfortably on the wooden floor. “Everything from here on I’ve learned from Kanderon and a few other sources with greater knowledge of other worlds than I possess. The Cold Minds are… similar to liches, in a sense. The process of becoming a lich moves considerable portions of your mind into the aether as an intermediary step to moving it into the substrate of your demesne, but not all at once. Cold Minds, on the other hand, have moved their existence entirely into the aether. It’s… a traumatic process, from what I gather, and individuals who attempt it alone invariably perish. All known successful Cold Minds are birthed in universes dying of age and in darkness, and they’re composite minds of entire civilizations attempting to escape extinction. Their only goal is survival, at any cost. It warps them, though. Minds aren’t meant to exist without bodies, and Cold Minds are mad in a way we can’t quite grasp. They must have been profoundly alien creatures to start with— all known Cold Minds predate humanity itself.”
The wineskin finished its circuit, and Alustin took another drink before continuing. “Cold Minds drift in a sort of hibernation for aeons in their dead universes, growing ever madder over time, until they’re presented with an opportunity to migrate to a new universe.”
He drank again, then passed the wineskin to Hugh once more.
“When they’re given that opportunity, not much changes at first. The initial incursion of a Cold Mind is just a simple disturbance in the aether— an irregular sphere around half the size of a person has been reported for several incursions. At first, it has little effect on the world around it, but wi
thin weeks it begins growing. A few inches in the first month, a few feet in the next. After about a year, they’ve grown to at most a league in size. So far as anyone knows, this is the stage in which they’re attuning themselves to the aether of their new universe.”
Alustin took a deep breath.
“Then they begin properly migrating into their new universe. The first sign is usually ice forming in the core of their incursion, as they begin draining away the heat and energy of their new universe. Second, magic begins to behave unpredictably or to fail. Third, within a month of the migration beginning, nearly every sapient being in their new home goes irreparably mad as the incursion swells at an astonishing rate. Perhaps one in ten thousand avoid this fate, if even that much. Most are dead within days. Dragon, human, demon, lich— it doesn’t matter. It’s not purposeful on the part of the Cold Minds— it’s simply them leaking out of the aether into sapient minds. They don’t really care about ephemeral creatures like us— and, to be clear, even liches and sphinxes are ephemeral compared to them. By the end of the second year of an incursion, the stars begin going out. Galvachren and other experts on the matter claim that the Cold Minds awaken for a brief spring during this period— that a simulated version of the civilization that they once were awakens in a twisted parody of all its former glory, and its inhabitants live out a few months or years of life unconcerned with and unaware of the costs. Then they finish draining the life and energy from their new universe, and they leave it as dead as their old universe, while they hibernate within it, patiently waiting for an opportunity to migrate again.”
There was a long silence before Sabae spoke. “So that’s what you’re afraid of coming back with Imperial Ithos.”
Alustin nodded. “Kanderon and the other Skyhold founders built the Exile Splinter to cast Ithos out of our universe to die a slow, miserable death. They lacked the power to cut it free entirely— they knew it would return someday— but they never intended it to intersect with another universe. None of the Skyhold founders had any deep knowledge of the multiverse. They didn’t even know the Cold Minds existed. They’re hardly common, after all, or the multiverse would be a dead, lifeless place. It was simply an absurd, unlucky twist of chance that Ithos was sent hurtling straight towards a universe where Cold Minds hibernated.”
Hugh reached out to wrap his arm around Talia, feeling cold even in the jungle heat.
“So… what do we do?” Talia asked. “How do we fight them?”
Alustin laughed bitterly. “Fight them? You can’t fight the Cold Minds. They exist within the aether itself. It would be easier to fight the planet beneath our feet or challenge the sun. There is no stopping them, there is no slowing them, and there is no resisting them. Their desperate need to survive, and their crippling fear of death, has turned them into an engine of inevitable extinction. All we can do is hope desperately that they didn’t notice Imperial Ithos, and that they’re not following it to our world. And if they have, all we can do is flee, to seek another world through the depths of the labyrinths. If you can’t flee, kill everyone you love and then commit suicide. If there’s a small blessing, it’s that the Cold Minds cannot travel through the labyrinths. Whoever the Labyrinth Builders were, they were the only ones to have ever found any means of resisting the Cold Minds. They’ve been dead and gone for eons, though.”
Alustin dismissed his ward, calling the sheets of paper back into his tattoo.
No one had anything else to say.
The orange-gold glow of the river algae was far brighter this far upstream of Zophor. Mushrooms grew faintly green on the trunks of trees as well, though Hugh doubted anyone with normal eyes could have seen their light.
Hugh could have easily read in the light from the river, maybe even before his eyes started changing, but he didn’t even bother trying. Instead, he just sat on the edge of the waystation’s platform and watched the bats and nightbirds hunt moths and other night insects in the river’s light. He could see the shadows of fish moving through the water, and occasionally something larger passed below the waystation.
He must have been watching the river for at least an hour when Talia joined him. She didn’t say anything, just sat next to him and leaned against him.
He wrapped his arm around her, and tried not to think about Imperial Ithos.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mage-Eater
On their third day traveling upstream they finally started to encounter land.
It wasn’t much at first, just a few low-lying mudbars jutting inches above the water. The tides never reached this far upstream, so the salt-tolerant mangroves were quickly out-competed by less specialized trees. Likewise, the animals present changed drastically. There were no seabirds in sight, and the only tentacled creatures Hugh spotted were a few freshwater octopuses, none of which grew much larger than his hand. They frequently climbed up to the deck to hunt for insects. Godrick had slept in later than the rest of them, and he’d been awakened by a freshwater octopus climbing onto his face.
The rest of them, especially Artur, had gotten a lot of laughs out of the lingering sucker marks on Godrick’s face. It had been the first real bit of cheer since Alustin had told them of the Cold Minds.
They got another laugh a short time later, when Hugh’s spellbook attempted to give Talia another apology gift.
It was a massive flower, almost a foot across, and it had deep red petals that were as thick as a finger. It also absolutely reeked of rotten meat, and Talia almost vomited when the spellbook dropped it in her lap.
Hugh’s spellbook apparently didn’t have a sense of smell.
Captain Narsa laughed and told them that they smelled like that to attract carrion flies.
Talia just tried to throw Hugh’s spellbook in the river after the flower.
One of the most unusual sights they’d seen had been the fisher spiders. Fisher spiders had bodies the size of a fist and legs that stretched the width of a dinner plate. They were a brilliant metallic green-gold and were unusually elegant for spiders that large.
They got their name from their webs, which actually draped down into the water below. They lived in colonies of dozens of individuals, and maintained huge webs between submerged trees. Fisher spiders ate primarily minnows, tadpoles, and baby octopuses. Anything bigger could easily escape their nets, but when something small enough got caught, the spiders worked together to pull it up out of the water.
Captain Narsa avoided steering the ship through the webs, mainly because they were a huge hassle to clean up.
They spotted their first tiger halfway through the day. It lounged on a thick tree branch a few feet above the water, and appeared to be dining on the remains of a river drake. It spared them only a single curious look, then dismissed them entirely.
It was only about half an hour afterward that they were forced to take a detour.
At first, they just looked like low-lying, rounded islands in the main channel, each covered in moss and small flowering plants. Three of them were the size of oxen, while the fourth was the size of a large wagon. The largest rested right in the middle of the channel, and actually had a small tree growing at its peak.
“Mossbacks,” Captain Narsa hissed, and the crew froze. The ship came to an abrupt halt, then slowly began backing away.
Hugh started to ask what was going on, and what a mossback was, when Alustin shushed him.
Then one of the little islands moved, and a head rose out of the water, water plants dangling from its mouth.
They weren’t islands at all, they were turtles.
The creature stared nearsightedly at the ship for a time as it chewed, then began to shift and turn away. Then the largest turtle shifted, and its own head rose out of the water. It had a crocodile larger than Hugh in its mouth, dripping blood into the river.
Everyone stayed remarkably quiet until they’d backtracked to another river channel going upstream.
“Yeh get mossbacks all over the place east a’ the Skyreach Range,�
�� Artur said. “Yeh don’t tangle with them if yeh’re sane. They can sprint faster than yeh can run over short distances, can bite through bone, and have tempers worse than any gryphon. They’re damn near impossible ta’ kill, if yeh were crazy enough ta’ tangle with one. If yeh have to, yeh come with a lot a’ mages, and yeh stay in the air ta do it, where they can’t reach yeh. Ah’ve never seen one that big before.”
“I’ve seen larger,” Narsa said. “They only get hungrier and nastier as they get older and bigger.”
It was nearly evening when they crossed into the Mage-Eater’s territory. Narsa quickly outlined her rules for them.
No one was allowed to be on deck alone, and you had to stay several feet away from the railings whenever you could. Tigers preferred solitary victims, and you’d never hear or see them coming.
You were never more vulnerable than when you were relieving yourself, so no one was allowed to go off the side of the ship— they needed to use the chamber pot in the little canvas-walled chamber belowdecks, which quickly began to stink horribly until Hugh tucked his scent-eating glass marble into a pocket in the canvas wall.
There had to be at least three people on watch on the deck at all times while in motion, and anyone on deck had to wear a ridiculous party mask on the back of their heads. The masks could sometimes fool a tiger into thinking their target was watching them, and even the most daring man-eaters preferred to attack from behind.
Hugh drew a ward all around the decking, but Narsa seemed doubtful about how well it would work.
On the morning of the fourth day, there were muddy paw-prints on the deck of the ship, as though the tiger that had left it had passed straight through the wards. It was easy to see where the tiger— whether it was the Mage-Eater or not— had investigated the secondary ward leading belowdecks, before it had exited the ward the same mysterious way it had gotten in.
