by John Bierce
“What are his actual capabilities, though?” Talia asked.
Alustin started to answer, then noticed the burning scraps of paper in the air. He frowned, and the flames abruptly went out.
Hugh supposed a spell to put out fires would be quite handy for a paper mage.
As Alustin turned back towards them, Hugh’s spellbook took its opportunity to dart over and devour the scraps of paper.
“We only have a partially complete picture,” he said, “but it’s pretty terrifying. First off, Bakori is freakishly strong, even more so than you might expect from a creature fifteen feet tall. He could probably tear apart a small dragon with his bare hands. If that wasn’t bad enough, his claws can cut through most stone or metal fairly easily. The venom his tail stinger produces is toxic enough to kill most creatures smaller than him in minutes, and it even poses a not-insignificant danger to creatures Kanderon’s size.”
Hugh swallowed.
“He’s capable of manipulating the minds of others to a small degree over the long term, as Hugh knows from experience, but it thankfully doesn’t have a ton of use in combat, so far as we can tell.”
“What about killing him?” Talia asked.
“That’s a tough one,” Alustin said. “First off, he’s almost always surrounded by swarms of his imps. He spawns hundreds and hundreds of the awful things— you encountered a few on the first floor of the labyrinth. They’re not much danger on their own, or even in packs, but in a truly large swarm they’re a force to be reckoned with. Even if you can fight your way to him, any damage you do to him will be healed in moments— he drains the life-force out of his imps to do so. It took something like three seconds for him to regrow an arm that Kanderon tore off him in battle.”
Even Talia was looking a little intimidated now.
“None of that is the worst part of confronting him, however. He comes from a different world, recall, and has an entirely different way of interacting with magic. Spellforms… decay around him. The longer you channel mana through a spellform, the more it decays, and the less stable it grows. After enough uses or time of a spellform near him, it’s no longer stable in his presence— you become unable to cast any spell more than a few times on him, effectively.”
Alustin leaned forward and looked at them all seriously. “What I suggest you do if you encounter Bakori again? Run.”
No one spoke for a moment, until Alustin relaxed back into his armchair. “So, any questions?”
They, of course, had questions. Dozens of questions.
“Have you ever been to another world?” Talia demanded.
“No,” Alustin said.
“Do yeh know anyone else who has?” Godrick interrupted.
“I suspect quite a few mages adventuring into the lower levels of the labyrinth have, but it is apparently a lot easier to get to another world than to return,” Alustin said. “We’re all descended from multiversal travelers, though— Anastis’ absurd ecosystems are thanks to the fact that almost all the living things on the planet are descended from migrants through the portals. The sunlings and sunmaws are among the only life-forms that are suspected to actually be native to our world.”
“Do you personally know any world travelers, though?” Talia said.
“Galvachren’s the only one I know of,” Alustin said. “I’m fairly confident Kanderon knows of a few more.”
“Galvachren, as in Galvachren’s Bestiary?” Hugh said, pointing to the massive tome under his desk.
“The very same,” Alustin said. “He apparently just wanders from world to world writing guides on various topics. Bestiaries, mostly. He’s been active here for a few decades now.”
“Is this why you were asking me about the ecology of the labyrinth last summer?” Hugh asked.
Alustin nodded.
“Is there any risk of our universe going aether critical?” Sabae asked.
“Our world seems to have a disproportionate number of labyrinths— according to Kanderon, if it wasn’t for them, we would have long since gone aether critical. But no, we should be fine, as long as no-one starts going around and wrecking a bunch of labyrinths.”
It was over an hour’s worth of questioning before Alustin finally took his leave. They bombarded him with questions ranging from what other demons were like to questions about how long ago humans had arrived on Anastis. Hugh was thinking over everything they’d learned from Alustin when he caught a sharp sense of puzzlement from his spellbook, which was alternating its gaze between the apprentices and Alustin, who had paused by the door.
Then Alustin left, and the moment passed.
“Is anyone else startin’ ta see what kind a’ mood that book’s in?” Godrick asked. “Because it’s kinda weird.”
“It was definitely just giving us a confused look,” Talia said.
Everyone turned to look at Hugh. “I’ve been able to tell its mood for a while now,” he said. “It sometimes sends me images when it wants to tell me something more than that. This isn’t the first time it’s given Alustin weird looks, though. I have no idea what that’s about.”
“That is weird,” Sabae said, “but I think that little lesson about Bakori provides a very good reason for us to batten down the hatches and get to work on this little investigation.”
Hugh could hardly count himself excited about it, but Sabae was right— he was certainly well-motivated to not have to go into Skyhold’s labyrinth again. Not that the idea had ever particularly appealed to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Starfire
Hugh wiped the sweat from his eyes as he focused his affinity senses on the boulder in front of him. The boulder was slowly crumbling as he shifted its feldspar crystals into alignment with one another.
It took almost an hour to finish, and his crystal mana reservoir was almost entirely tapped out by the end, but he’d successfully extracted all of the feldspar crystals and formed them into their own smaller boulder.
Kanderon looked up from her book.
“About time, Hugh. By Midsummer, I expect you to be able to do that in ten minutes or less,” the sphinx said.
Hugh couldn’t help but groan internally at that, though he tried to keep his face blank.
They were having today’s lesson down in Kanderon’s lair— a massive series of floating blue crystal platforms deep in the bowels of the Grand Library. Below them was only a mist-filled void, and above them was the intricate crystal machinery of the Index. Hugh seldom came down here— Kanderon usually preferred to have their lessons on the flanks of the mountain or out in the Endless Erg.
The first time he’d been down here, he hadn’t realized that the platforms, and the index above, were actually made of the same blue aether crystal as Kanderon’s wings. Now that he understood the sheer magical power needed to keep them afloat like this, they’d grown even more impressive to Hugh.
“Is that all for today, Master?” Hugh inquired. The lesson had already gone on considerably longer than most of his lessons with Kanderon.
“No, Hugh. Today I have something rather special planned— I’m going to be starting your instruction with our stellar affinity,” Kanderon said.
Hugh’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement. Though his pact with Kanderon gave him access to three different attunements, he’d only ever practiced with his crystal affinity. He’d used his stellar affinity only once, and that had been instinctive and uncontrolled in the depths of the labyrinth. It had left him unconscious for some time as well.
“The first thing to always keep in mind is that stellar affinity spells are gluttons for mana. You can expect to use far more mana on a single spell than for those of nearly any other affinity. Stellar affinities don’t lend themselves to subtlety or caution. In compensation, stellar spells hit exceptionally hard— among your friends, only Talia is going to be able to do a comparable amount of damage with her spells as you.”
Hugh was having quite a bit of trouble containing his excitement. The events of the su
mmer had helped convince him up to a point that he wasn’t a burden on his friends in battle, but he was still by far the least effective combat mage in his group. It would feel really good to be able to…
“Don’t, however, assume that you’re going to suddenly become a front line combatant on the level of your friends,” Kanderon said.
Of course.
“You’re capable of doing an immense amount of damage with your spells, but they’re grossly inefficient. You’ll only be able to use a few before your stellar reservoir dries up. They’re best saved for emergencies.”
Kanderon delicately pulled her bookmark out of her book, and slid it over to Hugh. On it was a complex spellform.
“This is one of the most basic stellar attack spells. Go ahead and memorize it, then draw it for me a few times so I know you have it down. And do NOT try to alter the spellform.”
Hugh took a little extra time to examine the spellform. It really was shockingly complex for a basic attack spell— more than half of it seemed intended for containment purposes. As he worked, Kanderon let him know that the containment part of the spell was the only way to control starfire, or to keep it from immediately detonating. The targeting component seemed attached to the containment part of the spell, and it was just a fairly basic unguided straight-line movement in the chosen direction. The rest of the spell just seemed intended to fill the containment area with… something that wasn’t light, as he’d expected from a stellar spell.
Once Kanderon was convinced that Hugh had the spellform adequately memorized, she raised a new crystal platform into position. A large boulder rested atop it.
“Give it a try,” Kanderon said.
Hugh felt a little nervous about trying a new spell with this little preparation, but he knew better than to question Kanderon.
He glanced at the spellform on the paper one last time, then focused on the boulder. It had to be at least as tall as he was, and twice as wide. Both its appearance and his crystal affinity senses let him know it was a fairly standard chunk of granite like you’d find almost anywhere in the mountain.
Hugh extended his hand towards the boulder, carefully envisioned the spellform in his mind’s eye, took a deep breath, and channeled mana into it.
The instant his mana touched the spellform, he could feel it pull at his mana reservoir. The pull wasn’t on the same scale as when he’d built the stormward around Theras Tel, but it was more intense than any other spell he’d ever cast— not to mention it was coming out of his stellar mana reservoir, which was a good bit smaller than his crystal mana reservoir. It was still growing over time, but using and exercising his crystal mana reservoir was speeding its growth considerably more.
Hugh could feel the containment part of the spell forming first. A faintly visible sphere of ripples appeared in the air in front of his hand. It took two or three seconds to fully form.
The instant the sphere was complete, it filled with… something, then blasted forward out of his hand. He honestly couldn’t understand what his affinity senses were telling him about the contents of the sphere. It was blue-white in color, and glowed bright enough to hurt his eyes, but Hugh could tell that the sphere actually dampened the glow.
While the construction of the sphere took much longer than the casting of most other ranged combat spells Hugh had seen— most of those could be cast in a fraction of a second— the sphere blasted forwards almost faster than he could follow.
The sphere slammed into the granite boulder and exploded in a glare of light.
It took most of a minute for Hugh’s vision to clear and for him to focus back on the boulder. His stellar mana reservoir had been depleted by almost two-thirds by the spell.
The results were… somewhat underwhelming.
The boulder had a small crater in the front of it, and the rock around the crater had visibly melted a bit, but for the most part, the boulder was undamaged.
“That’s it?” Hugh asked.
Kanderon, to his surprise, chuckled.
“That starbolt,” the sphinx explained, “would have been more than enough to kill a human. Cook them, really. Granite’s melting point is almost as high as steel, Hugh, and it doesn’t conduct heat nearly as well. It would take far more power than you have to melt that whole thing.”
“Talia could do it,” Hugh said.
“Talia is a special case,” Kanderon said. She’s already far more dangerous than the average battlemage, and she’s only going to grow more dangerous over time. Be glad she’s on your side, Hugh.”
“What exactly was in that sphere?” Hugh asked.
“That, Hugh, was starfire,” Kanderon said. “That was the very thing the stars in the sky are made of. If it hadn’t been contained, it would have exploded and cooked you the instant you generated it. The containment shields necessary to control starfire are a major component of why stellar spells are so mana-hungry. That, and the sheer expense of producing starfire.”
Hugh was starting to feel a little more impressed at his affinity.
“For all the unusual size of your mana reservoirs for your age,” Kanderon said, “you’re barely above the minimum needed to be able to use your stellar affinity. As your mana reservoirs grow, you’ll find your stellar affinity to be more and more useful. It belongs to a category of affinities that are disproportionately more effective for powerful mages than weak ones.”
For a moment Hugh’s brain automatically dismissed that— Hugh clearly wasn’t ever going to be that powerful, so what was the point?
Then he recalled the way all the students from Theras Tel— and quite a few others they’d told the story to, like his wards class— referred to him as Stormward, and frowned.
Kanderon gave him several new spellforms to practice before he left. One was a cantrip that shielded his eyes from the starfire, so he wasn’t left blinded whenever he cast a spell. He was supposed to share that one with his friends— but only after they saw the results of the starbolt for themselves.
Kanderon was firmly convinced that humans needed a good reason to learn something, or they wouldn’t bother.
The other two spells Kanderon showed him were stellar affinity spells as well.
One generated a narrow stream of starfire that extended out from a bottle shaped containment shield. The stream only extended out a few inches, but Hugh could use it to cut through metal with relative ease— though it was too unstable to use quickly or in combat. It used considerably less mana than the starbolt, however. He could think of quite a few uses for a cutting spell that powerful.
The last spell resembled a starbolt structurally, but it had a completely different function— it actually amplified the light from the starfire, instead of dampening it. It was designed to temporarily blind any nearby foes rather than injuring them.
Before Hugh left, he asked Kanderon about the difference between solar and stellar affinities. He was inspired to do so by his memories of all the time he’d spent searching through Galvachren’s Bestiary for a potential warlock contract partner. Heliothrax had been his dream partner for much of that time, even if it was improbable that he’d get that chance. She was an elder dragon comparable in size to Indris, and she possessed a powerful solar affinity. Thankfully, she was a long standing ally of humanity, and had defended quite a few kingdoms from other dragons and encroaching monsters over the centuries.
Kanderon had given him a serious look before responding. “A solar affinity is to a stellar affinity what a steel affinity is to an iron affinity.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Thrones
The Council’s meeting chamber was far from what Sabae had expected. She’d expected… a great semicircle of raised seats where the councilors could look down upon supplicants, perhaps, or a grand columned chamber where the councilors met, or perhaps a great table that they sat around.
The Council chamber was grand, certainly, but what Sabae hadn’t expected was for it to be so… exposed.
The Council met at the ver
y top of Skyhold, where the highest point of the highest peak had been shorn entirely off. There were no walls or ceiling to the council chamber— merely seats for the thirteen councilors, arranged in a great circle. Each of the seats resembled a throne more than anything, and each was decorated to represent its occupant.
Abyla Ceutas’ throne was made of solid obsidian. Anders Vel Siraf’s seat was draped in fine silks. Headmaster Tarik’s seat was undressed rough stone. Rutliss the Red’s seat was— unsurprisingly— red, and it was set at the center of a saltwater pool, with a set of stepping stones leading to its base. Sabae spotted one throne that appeared to be made out of liquid water with fish living in it; one that appeared to be a living tree grown in the shape of a throne; another that seemed to be made entirely of shifting, roiling sand; while yet another was hollow glass filled with unpleasant-looking green mists.
There was an empty space along one side of the circle of seats, and that space impressed Sabae more than all the thrones combined. It was empty and unadorned, with no throne or decorations.
Kanderon didn’t need either.
The only thing of note about the spot was that a huge, shallow bowl had been worn into the stone from centuries of Kanderon laying there. That was the kind of quiet statement of power that was really terrifying. It wasn’t a bold monument to her power, like some of the thrones the councilors had built or commissioned for themselves. No, it was a quiet statement. It let you know that Kanderon had been attending meetings here for centuries, long enough to wear away a bowl in the stone just by lying on it. It let you know that no matter how powerful you were or how grand your plans were, Kanderon wouldn’t be impressed.
She’d been there for half a millennium, after all, and there was no reason to believe she wouldn’t remain there for centuries more to come.
Sabae finally tore her gaze away from the shallow bowl worn into the stone.
