by Garon Whited
“I’d rather you didn’t just yet; I’d like to supervise. There are nuances that make it trickier than you’d think.”
“As you command, Ancient Mystic. I suppose I can lounge around the palace and pretend I’m a captive princess awaiting her handsome knight.”
“Or you could talk to Lissette and Dantos and bring me up to speed when I get there.”
“Slave-driver,” she replied, mockingly. She kissed the tip of my nose. “Try not to get into any fights on the way.”
“Bronze will keep me out of trouble.” Bronze nodded agreement.
The return trip was uneventful, but interesting, at least to me. After I sent Mary ahead, Bronze found the doorway into the secret subterranean passages. I made sure we were unobserved and we quickly vanished through it. Once under the road, Bronze cranked up to a full-scale gallop and I enjoyed the ride.
I also watched her as she ran, paying close attention to how her magical biology worked on the wounded leg. Part of it was a solid object animated by magic. The rest was a much more efficient system, probably mimicking an actual horse’s anatomy. The first one was power-intensive to run, but the second…
I used to think she was changing her own internal anatomy to run faster, to outpace cars and other vehicles. Now I think she’s doing it to operate more efficiently—to get better magical mileage without sacrificing speed and power. With metallic muscles, lubricated internal joints, and similar sorts of anatomical improvements, she wasn’t forced to magically animate and bend metal in order to move.
My magical rating system still has no numbers, but as an eyeball estimate, I’d say she required a third of the magical energy to run on jointed legs, compared to the non-jointed leg. With that kind of setup, she might be able to run almost indefinitely even in a magic-scarce world! Maybe not at full speed, but at least as fast as mortal horse.
What I found even more interesting was the way she seemed to be trying to mimic her pastern bracelets. Their magical enchantments weren’t part of her base structure. They were accessories, obviously. Yet, it seemed to me she was… I don’t know if “learning” is the right word. Adapting? Assimilating? Copying? Whatever the word is, I think she’s actively trying to learn to do what her magical jewelry does. I could see changes in the colors and movement of the foamy, organic-looking energies of her being near the bracelets, almost as though mimicking the spells.
Did I include such an ability when I made her? Or is it simply a part of her, being a living creature instead of an enchanted object? She can learn. She can change. She can grow.
How did I do that? Or should I be the one to take any credit for it?
I’m proud of my Bronze. She knows it.
Tuesday, June 14th
Bronze’s leg is back in shape after her run. It seems running at high temperatures helps her reconfigure herself—in other words, heal faster. Next time she gets a boo-boo, I need to get out a welding torch and see if I can melt her in a localized area. Would it hasten the process further, or would it count as another injury? Does it matter if the temperature is high enough to melt, or should it be only enough to soften? Does using the damaged limb help determine how it heals? Bronze doesn’t know, but is willing to try it.
With the good part of my day dealt with, on to the bad part.
Karvalen—the city—is undergoing a radical political shift in certain areas due to forceful objection and armed opposition by outside parties to the current regime. Which is to say it’s a war zone.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.
When I arrived last night, nothing untoward was happening. A spell-message for the mountain told it to go ahead and reconnect to the roadways west of the avatar combat zone. Bronze went up to her room and started crunching through her coal. I met with Mary, gave her some lessons on inter-universal gate usage, and let her go talk to Diogenes. If she doesn’t manage to come back on her own, she can at least call back when she’s ready, so the time differential isn’t a major issue.
I also looked over the mess of my armor and started helping it pull itself together. It would be a day or two before the underwear was feeling better, and the suit might take a week or more.
Then I called the capitol and had a brief conversation with Kammen—Lissette was in bed and it doesn’t do to wake the Queen unnecessarily.
“So, we don’t have an army comin’ in from the west?” he asked.
“Not anymore. And did you get the princes? Tannos and… Ventidius?”
“Prince Vetidius sent word through his wizard about visiting. Count Tannos is all kinds of helpful about offering to talk to the Prince of Actareyn.”
“Good. Is there anything else that requires the attention of the Demon King?”
“Nope. I’d let the Queen answer in the morning, though.”
“That’s fair. Give everyone my regards, please, and let Her Majesty know I will be available at her convenience.”
“I’ll do that… Halar.” Kammen grinned at me and winked. I laughed in delight. Halar! Yes! I’m not the King!
Kammen made my evening.
After we signed off, I realized I was still a bit peckish. I suppose fixing whatever damage an exploding avatar can do merits more than one major meal. I checked with the Temple of Shadow. They had a few guests wanting the personal service. I’m not entirely sure how my other-self and the Grey Lady worked out who gets whom, but I think it has something to do with a matter of choice. The Grey Lady escorts anyone who dies. I act as a doorway from one life to the next if you decide to die now, rather than linger. Something like that. Theology isn’t my strong suit, thank god.
I spent a few minutes with each of the three upcoming departures, practicing my graveside manner. It’s nice to be the angel of death when I don’t actually have to chase people down and kill them. Being an escort, so to speak, isn’t such a bad deal. I’d rather wear the suit and tie, walk with people, smile a lot, and make it a pleasant experience. I’m not against running screaming through the night while waving a flaming sword, you understand, but I prefer to do things in a less boisterous fashion.
Afterward, of course, I had a number of people who wanted to bow at me. I told them to take it to the altar and they mostly did. One young lady insisted on grabbing my ankles and pressing her forehead to my toes. I had to unwrap her and stand her up by hand. Of course, once I did it I recognized her. She was the young mother who brought me a dying baby.
The kid was doing fine, and she was duly grateful. I was pleased, gave her my blessing—which, I might add, actually did something. I have to remember watch it when I do things purely for form’s sake! —and sent her home.
Then it was back up to the mountain for me and a pleasant really-early-morning in my geode room, fiddling with gates of different sizes, working out ways to fine-tune my focus to avoid hitting the wrong universe, and so on. I went through my morning transformation, fired off my cleaning spell, and continued working.
After a while, a grey sash jumped against the pivot-door, shoved on it to hurry it along, and burst into the room.
One good thing about massive doors: It’s hard to slam in and surprise me. Quite a lot of the overcity has doors of the more mundane, wooden sort. Internal doorways may or may not have doors or curtains. But here, in the mountain, it’s mostly pivoting blocks of varying thickness, which makes them slow. I wonder if that’s a reflection of the mountain in general. It’s rapid geology, but it’s still geology. Then again, the doors might be its way of making me feel safer.
I was on my feet and waiting when he finally slipped through.
“My lord, the Church of Light has invaded the city! They assault the Temple of Shadow and the undermountain!”
I stood there stupidly for a moment, wondering where an assault force could have come from. After the pounding we gave them the last time, they didn’t have the manpower to take a city block, much less a city. They would need to send thousands of men and tons of supplies. This sort of thing doesn’t come
up in mere moments.
And the realization hit me. I saw what they tried to do. Provoke the princedoms of the west to invade, attracting the attention and the military might of the kingdom to the west. Press this expendable, diversionary force as far as it can go to draw everything out of position and expend much of the available forces. Only then would they launch their real offensive in the east. Where they got the manpower to invade on both fronts, I didn’t know, but I was certain I was right.
“Come in, close the door, and hold it,” I told him. “I’ll be back, and my password is ‘undermountain’. Got that?” He got it. He stopped the rotating door and swung it closed behind me. I went to the CIC to get a feel for what was going on.
The forces of the Church of Light were already in the mountain and roaming the halls, slaughtering anyone they came across. I had to kill nine of them on the way, and my cloak had to pretend to be a shield more than once. I got away with only minor injuries—a few cuts and bruises, really—and a couple of first-aid healing spells took care of the bleeding. This is why I usually wear armor, even if it’s only armored underwear. Not this time; all my armor was still repairing itself.
When I reached the CIC, it was already in the hands of the Church of Light. Over a dozen men were already in there. They had knocked over my sand table and two men were smashing it with sledgehammers. The various mirrors were mostly broken and the rest were about to be.
Again, what happened was obvious, now that I could look back on it. I had wondered why Lotar carried on with his stupid attempt to take the city when Thomen’s forces were turned away. Without those to back him up, Lotar didn’t have a chance. He knew it, he had to know it. What I failed to realize was his fanaticism. He was willing to sacrifice all those troops, all those followers, in a preliminary attack to test the defenses, to gauge our response. The whole sequence of events wasn’t a real attempt to take Karvalen. It was a probing attack to see what we would do. Armed with that knowledge, then they could plan their real assault.
This assault.
I retreated. Mortal, unarmored, and possibly surrounded by enemies, I slipped away into the tunnels of the mountain and made my way back to my gate room. I gave him the password and we sealed the door—rather, the mountain sealed it, along with every other door in the place. Being locked up for a while was an inconvenience for everyone, but it would cripple invaders. I was okay with that. It bought time to gauge the situation, contact people, and organize.
I got out my pocket mirror and made some calls.
“Yes?” Dantos answered. I smiled grimly.
“What do you know and where are you?”
“I’m sealed in a room, eighth rise, along the north hall. There are warriors roaming the halls, but I cannot get to them, nor they us. Your doing?”
“For the moment. Hang on and I’ll get you something to open doors. Can you reach other combatants on your mirror?”
“Yes.”
“Do that. I’ll get back to you.”
I rummaged in my pockets and came up with some loose change. It would do. I put a spell on a coin, one similar to the message spell I used to communicate with the mountain. This was a simple one: Open the door. It worked by tapping it on the door in question. I called Dantos back and told him how to operate it.
We improvised a circle and a container. I opened a tiny gate for the coin and dropped it through to him.
“Call me back if you need more of them. Do you have any idea how they got so many people inside—no, never mind. We’ll sort that out later. Right now, get people together and focus on taking back pieces of the undermountain.”
“Do you wish us to take prisoners?”
“Right now, I’m not sure I want you to accept surrenders,” I countered. “We don’t have the luxury of manpower and organization, yet. Use your judgment.”
“As you command, my lord.”
Beltar took a little longer to answer. He was in the Temple of Shadow, outside the mountain itself, and there was a fight going on in the background.
“My lord,” he acknowledged. He didn’t wait for me to ask questions, but continued, “We are beset by hundreds of fighters. We have lost the main doors and access to the tunnels. There is no way out; we are trapped. We hold them, but they press their attack at every door within the Temple.”
“How long do you think you can hold out?”
“The initial attack was a surprise, my lord. We now have armored knights holding ground. What wounded we have are being treated and many of those may soon rejoin the ranks. The enemy do not seem to have much in the way of wizards—only one or two we have seen—so I believe they are present only to counter our own magic. I think it is a question of persistence.”
“It should calm down to a siege?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Hold them.”
“Very good, my lord.”
I called Tianna, but nobody in the Temple of Flame answered. I didn’t like that, so I switched to scrying mode and looked into the Temple. Sparky might object to my snooping without invitation, but she could take it up with me later if she really wanted to.
It’s hard to burn a Temple of Flame. There isn’t much inside one to burn. Stone benches, stone floors, stone walls—they don’t go in for flammable building materials or combustible furnishings. Weird, I know. But the invaders stuck mainly to direct, physical damage. They had already bashed in the base of the statue of the Mother of Flame; pieces of the fallen idol were scattered across the outdoor worship area. Other attackers had cracked some of the benches while several stood on the altar to urinate on it. One was doing so as I watched, presumably to desecrate it. A group of men with sledgehammers and chains were working on one of the pillars of the dome, preparatory to knocking the whole thing down.
I searched inside the building, scanning from room to room. I found a young lady—not Tianna—stripped naked, obviously beaten, possibly raped, and lying facedown in a pool of blood. At a guess, they cut her throat. Further scanning found Sheena in the process of being raped to death.
My temper has been somewhat shorter than I like, of late. I blame Johann. It’s better, at least somewhat, now that I’ve vented a little of it on him, but I’m still not back to my usual, laid-back, patient self. At that moment, I didn’t care if they were religious zealots, hired mercenaries, or random rioters. The four men in the room were severely dead and didn’t know it. After all, there was a handy doorway right there…
I turned to the grey sash with me.
“What’s your name?”
“Sir Raxan, by your grace, my lord,” he replied, saluting.
“Can you mind my gate, keep it open while I rescue a maiden in distress?”
“I will give my life if it will serve you, my lord.”
“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you were skilled enough as a wizard to route power into a gate spell and keep it open.”
“I am a Shield of the Order of Shadow,” he replied, simply.
“Do it.” I shifted the scrying portal to the smaller, man-sized gate, watched it flush everything into view, and stepped through, Firebrand already out and blazing with an incandescent glee. Heads, hands, arms, legs—body parts went everywhere. I then grabbed Sheena, what there was of her clothing, and stepped back through the gateway. Elapsed time, less than ten seconds.
“Healing spells and some mending for the garments,” I snapped, pushing her into Sir Raxan’s arms. I flicked my scrying spell around the temple some more, searching for Tianna.
Wherever she was, she wasn’t in her temple. I called Amber, in Mochara. A lesser priestess answered and moved with satisfactory speed when I snapped an order at her. Amber glowed in the mirror almost immediately.
“Father!”
“Amber! I’m glad to see you’re all right. Is Mochara under attack?”
“No, but I’ve just heard Karvalen is.”
“Exactly. I’m calling about Tianna. Please tell me she’s visiting you in Mochara.”
“She is not.” Amber’s flames darkened to a reddish color. “She was in Carrillon, establishing a new Temple there, but I believe she persuaded Seldar to use your portals and return her to Karvalen for the solstice ceremony.”
“So she was definitely in Karvalen today? Or yesterday?”
“The ceremony should be today. Why? What has become of her?”
“I don’t know, and I want to. If you can find her, let me know. I’ll start looking, too.” We hung up and went about our offspring-hunting in our own ways. I sent out pulses like radar and got no response. I tried the passive approach and did somewhat better—she was southeast of my position in the mountain. So she was at least partly cloaked from detection magic, which spoke to me of wizardry or a magician.
I linked my scrying spell to the detection spell and sent the viewpoint sailing along that line. Walls, people, rooms—all these flew past as my sensor zipped along. I couldn’t triangulate easily without the sand table, so I was stuck with a slow search. Eventually, though, my sensor ran into a scrying shield.
Aha!
A quick look around the neighborhood showed me the building was probably an inn or tavern, three floors, with a large common room and several smaller rooms above. It was on the edge of a market square full of large tents and piles of supplies. It was obviously a staging area of some sort. The place was crawling with soldiers in religious garb. Somehow, I didn’t think they were formally church troops. Maybe it was the looting and pillaging in the nearby buildings that gave me such an impression. At least there weren’t many people to kill in the neighborhood—they already did that.
Was the shielded building a command center, perhaps? A headquarters? Or just a place to keep valuable prisoners? I doubted they wanted Tianna as a prisoner because of her status as a priestess; a simple priestess they would kill outright. It’s possible they were worried about her death calling down the wrath of a goddess, but I doubted the Church of Light considered it their main concern. Maybe I’m conceited, but I think they had her as a hostage against my good behavior.
