by Chris Fox
“No.” Nara stared defiantly back, still wondering what his motive in all this was.
There was some merit to his words, even she could admit that. Making mages into more powerful tools made a lot of sense, but what was the point if those mages never entered the battles that really needed them?
“Because she isn’t a fraction of the mage she could be. She could become a force for change on this world. She could found her own house. Instead, she’s locked in a mad battle with a superior foe. A battle that will get her, and anyone who follows her, killed.” Eros sat next to Nara and took her hand in both of his. He turned it over, showing her the palm. “If you give it a chance, this can be the most powerful weapon you’ve ever been given. You don’t need that spellpistol, and you don’t need someone like Voria giving you orders. Learn to think for yourself.” He closed her hand into a fist, then rose. “I’m told your studies are progressing extremely well—faster than Frit initially promised. There is so much you can learn here, if you try. Don’t be distracted by petty politics, child. What you do in these next few weeks will determine your future for decades. You owe Voria nothing.”
Nara considered his words, and hated herself when she realized she couldn’t find fault with them. Did she owe the major? Or should she be looking out for herself, and her own future?
Eros rose from the bed. “Now, come with me. It’s past time you learned how to duel.”
14
DUEL
Nara stepped hesitantly through the wide doorway into the dimly lit room. In each corner, a magical flame hovered in midair. The flames gave off heat, so they weren’t illusions. A golden ring covered most of the floor, with tiny white sigils lining the edge of the metal.
“Join me.” Eros pointed to the far side of the ring, opposite him. He didn’t speak again until she stepped over the ring, into the circle. “This is a dueling circle. We use it to dampen our magic and prevent accidental death. Move to the far side, and we’ll begin.”
“I feel like this is going to be a very short fight,” Nara pointed out.
She reached instinctively for her pistol, but Eros’s hand flashed. He sketched a quick trio of sigils, and a crackling void bold shot into her sidearm. The weapon disintegrated with a pop, its particles dissolving as Nara stared in horror.
“My pistol! That was my only weapon.”
“No!” Eros snarled, stalking closer. “That was a crutch, used by tech mages who don’t fully understand magic. You no longer have the luxury of crutches. Now you stand on your own, mage. You want to punish me for destroying your toy? Good. Do it. But do it with a spell.”
Nara’s hand rose up like a cobra, and she instinctively sketched a single dark sigil. The void bolt zipped from the air over her shoulder, aiming unerringly for Eros’s irritatingly perfect face. He raised a single finger, and sketched a counterspell. Her void bolt exploded into magical shards mere millimeters from its target.
“A good beginning. You’re in a magical duel. You’ve probed your opponent’s defenses with a void bolt, and found him prepared for it.” Eros prowled around the edge of the circle, watching her. “Now what? Do you take the offensive, or settle into a defensive pose to see how he’ll react?”
Nara tensed, trying to decide what the correct course of action was. Eros had been a true mage longer than she’d been alive, if the rumors around the university were true. So how could she possibly win a duel with him?
His finger twitched, and a beam of golden light zipped into the floor at her feet. It exploded upward, each shard slicing painfully into her. She staggered to the side, but caught herself after a step. The circle had blunted the impact of the spell.
“Right now you are hesitating out of indecision, not tactical awareness.” Eros stopped and frowned reprovingly. “You’re afraid. Afraid I’ll hit you with a spell you cannot defend against. Afraid of the pain. Afraid of the humiliation.”
He sketched a single sigil. Something invisible wrapped around her hair, yanking her toward him; he lunged, pulling a dagger from his boot and pressing it to her throat. He released her instantly, and the dagger vanished back into its sheath.
“That fear makes you predictable,” Eros explained. He stalked the edge of the circle. “The purpose of the dueling circle is to remove that fear.”
“Bang-up job so far,” Nara shot back, touching the bead of blood on her throat.
She raised her hand again, sketching a quick series of pink-and-white sigils. A cloud of pink particles blasted out in a wave before her, but Eros hopped nimbly out of the path.
“There! Anger. That is another option, though certainly not the best for true mages.” Eros raised a hand, but didn’t cast. “Anger overrides fear, making action possible during stressful situations. However, anger only allows you to access certain more primitive parts of your brain. It limits you, forcing you to familiar, well-worn reactions. That, too, makes you predictable. You fall back on your training, and a wise mage understands how their opponents have trained.”
“So what’s the answer then?” Nara pulled back to the edge of the circle. She hated that her voice sounded sullen, but it was maddening not to understand any of this. She’d trained furiously for weeks, but she was trying to make up for years. Why couldn’t he just teach her?
“Calm.” Eros lowered both arms and took a long, deep breath. He closed his eyes, then opened them with a smile. “War mages rely on anger. It suits them, and it does transform them into lethal weapons. But we do not possess that luxury. We must be calm at all times, able to react in the most appropriate manner in all situations. That can mean a counterspell, or it can mean pressing your opponent with a quick flurry of void bolts. The goal is to never be the one reacting. If you cede the initiative to your opponent, you may never recover it.”
Nara considered casting another attack spell, but settled for circling the edge of the ring. “But I’ve seen Major Voria do that. She counters every spell her opponents throw, until she finds an opening. It’s always seemed a solid strategy to me.”
“To begin with, it isn’t a strategy. It’s a tactic. You need to learn the difference.” He crooked a finger, beckoning her to assault. “Regardless, there is a critical flaw in Voria’s logic. What do you do if your opponent throws a spell you cannot counter, like a disintegrate? What if the spell is too powerful, and the counterspell doesn’t work?”
Eros sketched a dream sigil, then an air. The spell completed almost instantly—an illusion of some kind. She couldn’t see anything different. Eros still stood there, in the same position. There was nothing different, so what had the spell done?
“So you’re saying pure offense is more effective?” She sketched another void bolt, flinging it at his face again.
This time Eros didn’t dodge. The bolt rippled harmlessly through him—that was the illusion. Nara began to spin, but it was too late. Eros’s dagger pressed to her throat once more. He shoved her forward, toward the center of the ring. She staggered but caught herself.
“I’m saying that a single, perfectly calculated strike your opponent doesn’t see coming is the best way.” Eros gave her the first genuine smile she’d seen. “You’re an illusionist, pirate girl, not a battle mage. There is no reason your opponent should ever have the opportunity to strike at you. Nor should they see your attacks coming. You kill them, fast and deadly, then you teleport out before their companions can react.”
Nara raised a hand to her throat; it came away with more blood. “You make a very convincing argument.”
“The first of many, I hope. You have a great deal of potential, pirate girl. Houses from all over Shaya will court you, all in the hopes of marrying you into their family.” Eros walked to the edge of the ring and picked up a towel. He tossed it to her, and she was surprised to realize she was coated in sweat. “You must decide what it is you really want. Power? Money? Fame? Glory?”
“Magic,” she gave back without hesitation. “I want to learn it all. If I can unlock the full circle, I’ll un
derstand the universe.”
“So power, then.” Eros gave a grim smile. “You remind me a great deal of myself at your age. The endless thirst for new knowledge. It must be especially challenging after your mind-wipe.”
“Is there any way to…reverse the spell?” She wasn’t even sure she wanted to, but she had to at least know whether it was possible. Besides, perhaps she could help Aran regain his own memory.
“I’ve heard legends of gods rebuilding minds, but I’ve never seen any practical proof of such a thing. There is no recovering the memories, so far as I know.” He frowned. “It’s not a life you have any business wanting to remember, pirate girl. Come at me. Again.”
Nara tossed the towel to the ground outside the ring, and prepared another spell.
15
DARKNESS
Voria moved to the balcony, staring down at the goddess’s swaying branches. The view was breathtaking, a marvel any number of citizens would eagerly vie for, yet today it brought her no peace.
It was the same view she’d had the last time she’d visited the Tender, though this time she’d been given her own quarters. And, much as she hated to admit it, she needed that generosity. She had nowhere to go, and no real resources to speak of.
Every scale and every credit had gone into the war effort, and the Confederate script she’d been paid with was very nearly worthless on a planet like Shaya. She couldn’t even afford decent accommodations, or daily rations.
“More wine, Ria?” Her father crooked a finger and the crystal pitcher floated down. He allowed it to refill his goblet, but she covered her own. “Don’t be so stoic. You’re alive. Celebrate that.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not in a celebrating mood, Father. Not all of us can hide here on Shaya flitting from party to party. Some of us still have a war to fight.” Voria tightened her hands around the goblet, wishing they were wrapped around her father’s neck instead. “You have so much influence, so much respect from these people. You could convince them to rally against the Krox, to help the Confederacy win this war. But you do nothing.”
Her father plucked an apple from the bowl next to him and took a large, crunchy bite. He chewed thoughtfully, and his eyes glowed a soft gold as he consumed the life-imbued fruit. “Ria, I’m proud of who you’ve become, but I’d remind you that you are very young. You have just passed forty, and are in the throes of your first war. I understand that everything is urgent and new. You think failure here will mean the end of everything. But after you win this war, there will be another. And another. And always another. It will go on for decades, and when you pass your first century you will realize there is no end to the cycle. I’m tired of war, little Ria. I’ve done my part.”
“What about the Tender?” Voria demanded. “Does she feel the same way?” She refused to believe that the de facto ruler of Shaya would abdicate her responsibility to protect her people.
Aurelia’s voice came from the entryway to the room. “No, I do not feel the same way.” She glided inside, still wearing her golden armor. “In fact, I agree with you, Voria. I’ve long chastised your father for wasting his abilities, but he refuses to leave the capital.
“Perhaps if you stopped sleeping with him, he wouldn’t have a reason to stay.” Voria meant it playfully, but cringed at her own words. Poor taste.
“Perhaps.” Aurelia smiled at Dirk. “Sooner or later, you are going to need to accept your responsibilities, Dirk.”
He shrugged, sipping his wine. “Maybe.”
“Tender, I apologize for being a forward guest, but you said there was a second augury. I’d like to see it as soon as possible.” Voria shifted her weight, peering up the hallway toward the room where Aurelia had shown her the first augury. “May we use the Mirror of Shaya?”
“I thought you might like time to relax … but if you are ready, of course we can view the augury. This one is not so terrifying as the last, though it does raise a number of very troubling questions.”
Aurelia followed the balcony to the far side of the room, then walked up a short marble hallway that ended at a pair of double doors covered in tiny dragon scales. The last time Voria had been here, they’d shown Shaya, but now the scales showed unbroken blackness. It was a minor but disconcerting difference.
“Dirk,” Aurelia said, “perhaps you should wait out here.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. Voria’s father nodded and gave a graceful bow, then retreated a few steps. His petulant frown made it clear he felt excluded. The doors parted silently, and Voria stepped into a darkened chamber that smelled of sulfur and other reagents commonly used in ritual casting. Such reagents didn’t aid the spell, but they often aided concentration.
The doors slid shut silently, and the ritual flames sprang to life. Each danced over the corresponding aspect, giving life to the ritual circle surrounding the Mirror of Shaya. That mirror showed impenetrable darkness now, the same as the door had shown.
Voria took a step closer, peering into those inky depths. “Tender, this may be answered by the augury you’re about to show me, but why are both the door and mirror black?”
“I don’t know,” Aurelia admitted, “and it terrifies me.” She joined Voria at the edge of the circle. “That’s part of why I’ve been so frantically deciphering this augury. The mirror went dark three days ago—the door, two days. I don’t understand the magic at work here, but we are not alone. Flame Readers all over Shaya have complained that their fires show nothing. Something powerful enough to dampen all divination is obscuring our collective vision.”
“I see.” Voria folded her arms, shivering.
“Watch.” Aurelia sketched a dream sigil, then a fire. More joined the first pair, building a complex divination spell. When Aurelia had completed the spell, the mirror flared, and a shape appeared in the darkness.
“I can’t quite make it out,” Voria mused.
“It’s a planet.” Aurelia pointed at the curvature along the bottom.
Voria leaned closer, but there was almost no light in the augury. “Why is it so hard to see?”
“That part took me a while to verify. The planet is so dark because it lies within the Umbral Depths.”
Voria turned to look at Aurelia, whose features were lit by the flames. “I thought the depths were empty?” she said slowly. “I’ve never heard of anything in there—not a single world. I know Ternus tried to establish an outpost, but we all know how that turned out.”
“The depths are far too vast to be completely empty,” Aurelia countered. She nodded back at the augury. “Look.”
The perspective shifted, and they were on the surface of the planet, zooming through canyons. Many-legged shapes moved through the darkness, their flat, black eyes glinting at her from the shadows.
“What am I seeing?” she whispered. Light glinted off the creatures’ skin in a familiar way, the same way it might glint off a…dragon.
“They’re called arachnidrakes. An offshoot of the original dragons. They’re larger, tougher, and nearly impervious to magic. Like the Krox, they begin in a bipedal form, similar to an enforcer, but eight-legged.” Aurelia shuddered in distaste. “They’re reputed to be less intelligent than standard Wyrms, but given the level of intellect, they might still be smarter than unaugmented humans.”
She trailed off as the augury shifted again. It showed a massive stone temple, an entire mountain carved to honor some long-forgotten god or goddess. That mountain stood alone in the center of a flat plain, easily visible for hundreds of kilometers. An infernal glow came from within the temple covering the summit and surrounding slopes. It represented potent magic, perhaps a full Catalyst.
Sudden darkness billowed from the temple, obscuring the augury. The flames winked out around them, smothered by magic that sucked the warmth from the air.
“What just happened?” Voria asked in a small voice.
“A part of the magic. I believe there is more to the augury, but whatever that temple is has somehow snuffed it out.” A golde
n light sprang up around Aurelia, illuminating her features. “Now you’ve seen it, and why the matter is so urgent.”
“I’m not sure I agree. What’s so urgent here, and what do you expect me to do about it?” Voria shook her head. “This isn’t a battle with the Krox. This is a glimpse of a world in the one place no sane captain would lead her crew. And it isn’t even clear why someone would want to go to that world, or what they’d do when they arrived.”
“If we could see the rest of the augury, those questions would be answered,” Aurelia pointed out. “Unfortunately, I haven’t yet discerned a way to do that. All I have are premonitions. I believe that world is vital to our survival, and someone left something for you to find there. A weapon of some kind. Powerful magic that we can use to resist the Krox.”
“That’s your takeaway?” Voria blinked as she followed Aurelia from the chamber back to the bright area around the balcony. “I didn’t see myself, or anyone I recognized. What could possibly make you associate that with me?”
“A feeling.”
“A feeling? You want me to fly into the Umbral Depths because you have feelings?” Voria began to laugh—timidly at first, but it grew quickly. Before she knew it, tears streamed from her eyes. “Following you got me stripped of command, got my vessel taken away. And now…now you want me to somehow fly into the Umbral Depths because…feelings.” She laughed until she wheezed.
“Please.” Aurelia walked slowly to Voria and took Voria’s hand in both of hers. Warmth flowed into Voria. “Shaya comes to me sometimes as I sleep. I see her thoughts, and her memories. In this instance, I’m seeing a memory, a very old one. She knew you’d be going into the Umbral Depths. She helped craft the spell that hid a world there. You, and your friends are meant to do this. In the dark you will find the strength needed to resist. You will be shaped, whatever that means.”
