Interlude – Halfseekers (Pt. 8)

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The rain was slackening. The sheets of water falling from the High Passes still rippled across the Floodplains, but nothing could last forever, and no matter how furious the storm, the citizens of Liscor knew it was ending.

They had been rained on for ages. Leaks had infiltrated the city, bringing with it streams of muddy siltwater, and the dripping damp had molded every available surface.

So why…did they seem so wistful? It had to be mold in the brain. That was what Archmage Valeterisa suspected.

Non-Liscorians like Lyonette, Mrsha, the Goblins, and herself were sensible. The Gnoll girl had once written to her mother that if she had to endure another day of damp fur, she’d shave herself bald like one of Baron Regalius’ cats. Nanette had vouchsafed that she’d be drier with her hat raining down her sadness on her back in Riverfarm.

And they were able to use the [Door of Portals] to go somewhere dry! How did you live before this?

It boggled the mind, and she said so, because she was 72% certain that it wouldn’t earn her censure for expressing her opinions. No matter how much he loved it, Liscor’s rains were stupid.

—The huge Drake just turned and grinned at her as they sat under her barrier spells in a rocking boat of all things. Valeterisa hated boats. She preferred to fly, but here she was, rocking precariously in less than a few inches of wood between her and the very cold, very deep waters.

“Relc, this is unnecessary. I can simply cast [Detect Life] and chain a [Stone Dart] spell to a [Magic Rope] spell and reel in any fish you want. No, wait…perhaps it would be more optimal to cast [Seeker Arrow] given fish can dodge. They can dodge, correct? Or perhaps a net. [Net of Nired], perhaps, but to mitigate the drag in the waters, a [Waterproofing] spell might let it efficiently move. That would last eight minutes if cast at full mana, but a reusable [Stone Dart] spell might yield far more returns assuming…”

She got distracted by her own mind halfway through her statement and began to compare spells for efficiency in fish-catching. Not because Valeterisa was so insane that she’d love to just field-test magic all day. She’d get bored after only an hour.

No, it was that she was that bored of this. Which was hard to fathom, because she was in Relc’s company, and she had once posited that she could watch paint dry and not be bored with him.

I fear our romance has ended its course. My infatuation with him is ending; our relationship is unsalvageable. Or fishing is that boring.

She was getting in touch with her emotions, and all of them said this sucked. The Archmage of Izril saw Relc glance over as he swished his line back and forth.

“I’m telling ya, Valley, it’s fun. Just wait until I catch something, huh?”

“What could be fun about putting a line in the water and waiting?”

He chuckled deep in his chest and shifted so she could grumpily lean against him. She’d gotten a day off from her taskmistress’—Montressa—workload and after working on her transportation magic, the academy, outwitting Fissival, and Eldavin’s new magical items quota, what were they doing in their spare time?

Fishing!

True, it was Relc’s turn to suggest an activity, but she’d been hoping to do puzzles or go for a walk somewhere dry. Anything but this.

Grumpily, Valeterisa swished her fishing pole. Relc was almost melancholic as he sighed at the skies.

“Even the fish can tell it’s going to stop raining soon. It’s so sad. Right when you get used to the rains, they go.”

“Relc, would you mind if I analyzed your brain and body for fungal parasites?”

“Hm? Sure, go ahead.”

As she did that, the Drake adjusted his fishing line, then gazed at Valeterisa. The Archmage of Izril, his romantic partner, normally was rather happy to do most things with him. And the [Spearmaster], the Gecko of Liscor, was not blind. So he coughed into a fist.

“Look, give it fifteen more minutes, and if we can’t catch anything, we’ll head inside, huh? But I’m telling you, Valley. There’s a lot of joy to fishing.”

“Like what?”

She was grumpy and wondered if it was due to Relc being a father. She’d heard fathers developed strange habits like this. Puns, fishing…she adjusted the new robes she’d commissioned that he’d said nothing about. Not that you could really see them in the rain—she’d really been expecting that walk.

However, the Drake’s answer surprised Valeterisa.

“Thinking. An hour or two in the rain really lets you think things out. I’m not good at focusing unless I’m practicing with my spear or walking with nothing going on in Liscor. Or fishing.”

It was an unexpected answer if you thought Relc was some muscle-headed idiot. A common misconception. But for Valeterisa, it was doubly fascinating, so she listened, forgetting her uncomfortable seat and dislike of the damp boat as the Drake went on.

“I used to do this all the time when I was younger. Years ago, right when I first came to Liscor.”

“Is this a Relc story?”

“Wh—yeah? Aw, are you recording?”

“I like listening to them sometimes when I am flying. Montressa likes them too.”

“Valley, I told you not to share them. Okay—”

Relc adopted a slightly more official tone of voice as he cleared his throat. Then he just began to ramble as he gazed across the waters. Every now and then, he’d twitch the fishing pole, and she noticed his movements were less random than hers. She’d thought you just waited for fishes to eat the bait, but he wasn’t doing that.

“Fishing was the only way I could get some spare time to myself in the spring. Well, spring and summer; you can find mudpools for a long time afterwards and the rivers are great for a while. Not very pleasant with the bugs, but I did it when I was starting in the Watch. A lot during those first five years.”

“Why?”

“Well, I had this new partner that the Watch Captain had assigned me. Zevara—she saddled me with an Antinium of all things. Not just any Antinium: the Slayer. I wanted to kill him, but I wasn’t sure if he’d get me. I had retired so I wouldn’t be in danger, and here I am being told I might have to kill one of the Centenium if the Free Hive erupts!”

Relc shook his head, and Valeterisa put her chin in her hands, fascinated. This was a historical record that few people had considered. Liscor when the Free Antinium had been an unknown…this city was extraordinary even before Erin for so many reasons. The Gecko clenched a fist as he spoke.

“And he was so damn annoying. He was all rules back then. You think the Klbkch of now was bad? He’d come by like a Golem and point out all the things I was doing wrong. Plus, citizens hated us. We had Aberrations, and Soot’s gang was so bad, and there were attempts on Zevara’s life…and I was raising Embria until she ran away, and she hated my guts. So there wasn’t anywhere to go.”

“Oh, Relc. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it got better. And fishing was one of the ways I figured out that Klbkch wasn’t that bad. I could think and stop getting mad—if I was so heated up I couldn’t even sit still, I’d jump in the water and punch a Rock Crab. When you’re stuck here, all you can do is think. And that means your brain makes more interesting stuff, y’know? Whenever I’m not fishing, I know I can do something better. Here? I know I’m stuck, so I think.”

“That’s…a good insight. But still, isn’t it rather monotonous?”

“Fishing? Nope. See, Valley, you’re just leaving your rod in the water. Here, see what I’m doing? Tugging it like this?”

“Simulating the movements of a fish? I have read books on the subject, Relc.”

He chuckled as he shook his head.

“Doing it is different than books, Valeterisa. There’s an art to mimicking how fish move. Even reeling them in. Sure, you can get an enchanted rod and just pull or use magic to heave ‘em up, but making sure your line doesn’t break, tiring the fish out? It’s something you have to practice. A skill.”

“I see. So that’s why you didn’t let me enchant the lines and we’re using rented poles.”

“Well, that and I’m cheap. I just like something where I’m concentrating and can think. Body does one thing, mind does the other, Valley. It’s like…spear dancing.”

He lost her. She could do the mind, but her body was uncoordinated as could be. Yet she’d seen Relc practicing with his spear; he did it daily for incredible amounts of time. He wore the same expression now. Absent concentration.

Not absent grace; everything he had was earned. But the fishing pole seemed to be imbued with an elegance completely other than her clumsy attempts with her rod. She knew that was just an illusion due to their skill levels, but the Drake murmured.

“I can’t even see into the waters. But sometimes, I swear, I can almost feel the fish down there. If I could only make ‘em leap onto my line, huh? I never got [Fisher] as a class, but I wonder if that’s how my [Spear Dance: The Fish Leap] appeared. That’d be funny.”

He drew his line across the waters left in a slow motion, then faster. Valeterisa stared into the waters, magic shining in her eyes. Relc pulled faster—then sighed.

“Damn. I thought I was luring something big. See, I do that too. I should just do fewer movements, but then I feel like I’m actually about to catch a fish. And it turns out I’m hallucinating.”

“Or something else eats the fish before it can bite your line.”

The Archmage of Izril gazed into the waters, and Relc snorted.

“Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Go back to fishing, Relc. I believe in you.”

Absently, Valeterisa picked up her pole as Relc reset his line. She peered into the waters, and the Drake chuckled.

“You getting into it?”

“I could…watch for a while longer. Once I am thoroughly numb to the wet and cold, it is less painful than I thought.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of it! My old man liked to fish. That’s what one of my relatives said. I wouldn’t know; I don’t remember him much. But I wonder if I could’ve done this with him. Now, if I can get something nice and fresh, we’ll have it for lunch. Even a Quillfish! Calescent does a mean Quillfish grill.”

Liscorians and fish. It really was a sign the city had made you its own. Valeterisa and Relc were fishing close to The Wandering Inn for convenience’s sake, but she had seen private citizens fishing more than once while flying to and from the city.

Oh, and Liscor Hunted, whose springtime challenges included being handed a rock and told to walk for a thousand feet while fighting whatever came your way…while on the Floodplains’ floor, underwater. She wondered who paid for that kind of thing.

As the two sat, the water sloshing at the boat pushed them past a large hill with a few bridges across it. The two saw a solitary figure standing in the rain, ignoring it pounding over him in a squall. They turned, and Relc blinked, then raised a hand.

Lord Mireden Raithland, Lord Moore, was standing with a fishing rod in hand. Valeterisa opened her mouth as they floated by; he was reeling in a Quillfish.

“Hello, you two. Good fishing?”

“Nah, I haven’t caught anything yet! You?”

Relc eyed the pile of fish next to the half-Giant, and the man chuckled.

“Years of practice.”

“Hey, what about me? I’ve been fishing longer than you!”

“Well, you shouldn’t keep going after the most energetic fish then. The others can’t keep up to the challenge.”

Lord Moore nodded at Relc, who was darting his line back and forth with little jerks of his hand. Relc paused and glanced at his hand.

“Oh, right, but I’m being naturalistic.”

“Fish will eat dead bait without much reservation. Still, I admire your skill. Archmage, I apologize in advance for disturbing your date.”

“Not at all! It’s not disturbing and, um…”

She eyed him, a [Mage] of such caliber that she would be hard-pressed to find his equal in great numbers, even in Wistram. A man from the future with a terrible burden and weight about him. Valeterisa hesitated, wanting to ask about all this, but settled on—

“Shouldn’t you be running for office? I would imagine that requires a great deal of attention.”

It did in Wistram. It was always politicking for support. Lord Moore chuckled again.

“Ah, but that takes many forms, Archmage. Being likeable is as hard as being known, and having good policy, good messaging, these are all facets of winning an election.”

“Yes. So…”

He winked at her, then turned slightly. Both Relc and Valeterisa now saw his usual robes were gone. Instead, the half-Giant had a lovely stone grey cloak and a jacket that neatly framed a bright white shirt upon which was written…

‘I Survived Liscor Hunted.’

Huh. They glanced at each other, then Relc got a bite.

 

——

 

That half-Giant. Much could and perhaps would be said on Liscor’s election, which were hitherto largely unremarked upon by The Wandering Inn’s folk. However, they were nearing a zenith of intensity, and they were predominated by several factions.

Liscor’s current Council, which had much enduring support, and Liscor’s old Council, who had run their own old members on a platform of bringing Liscor back, both to its roots as well as undoing new measures like the rent control that was destabilizing, nay, ruining Liscor.

There were other factors, of course. Walled Cities putting their thumbs on the scales to get candidates they wanted, non-Drakes and non-Gnolls having voting power, and random outsiders like Lord Mireden.

The half-Giant had put his name into the race far too late to be a threat in his 3rd District…or so both sides had assumed. But now he was neck-and-neck with the Human candidate and one of the ‘Traditional Liscor’ candidates, who had moved into that area just to win a seat!

Outrageous! It was due to the new charms from Esthelm that had plastered his name over. He had even bought a store where all of them were being sold due to the intense demand and limited supply, and he attracted attention just by walking the streets! He broke up fights, talked to children and adults whenever anyone asked a question. Acting like some kind of—of leader of this city!

The nerve. Real Councilmembers didn’t have time to waste on the public; they were running campaigns to serve the city! All the gold they were spending on fliers and advertisements were having an effect on the current Council; it was neck-and-neck races for every district including even Krshia Silverfang, who had her entire people’s support!

But even with [Spectaclists] from Manus and [Propagandists] from Zeres coming in to put their support behind certain candidates, they were in for a nasty shock, because Mireden Raithland was vying for his seat with the savvy of an experienced [Politician].

Just today, why…that bastard had done it again!

 

——

 

Menolit Zifroflen was a rich businessdrake these days. He ran a good company that hired [Veterans], he had money to spend, and he was popular in Liscor and known beyond it. He had everything he wanted, except for love, and he credited it to The Wandering Inn.

No matter what anyone said about Erin, he knew what she had done for him. That he hadn’t found someone to share his success with, well, he just said that even Erin couldn’t work miracles all the time.

But he got asked, quite often, how, uh, his business worked. As in, how did anyone actually enjoy or sign up for Liscor Hunted? The entire premise of the event was suffering. Sir Relz and Noass had advertised it to the world, true, but that had been by the pair nearly getting eaten by a Rock Crab! Menolit had one answer for the doubters, the haters, the skeptics, and the fools:

“Recordings.”

Liscor Hunted had six scrying mirrors in the huge glass windows outside the hunting-lodge themed building with trophies and dangerous bestiary entries of local wildlife tacked onto the walls. Oh, and mugshots of successful winners.

Getting your name on Liscor Hunted’s walls was prestigious. Proving you had the grit, the real grit to survive one of their intense ‘levels’ was a mark of pride for a lot of Pallassians with comfortable, safe lives. Like Pallass Hunting, Liscor Hunted catered to a richer class of people who wanted to prove they were wild predators in the ‘outside world’.

…For its citizens, it was an endless source of entertainment and daredevilry, because Liscor Hunted recorded everything these days, and they displayed it on the scrying mirrors.

You could opt out, but even the most embarrassing moments were usually allowed by clients, who regarded themselves screaming and fleeing nests of Shield Spiders with a kind of chagrined pride.

Look at me, I survived that! They even sold highlight reels of the most insane escapes or escapades.

One of Menolit’s top items was a mishmash of clips he’d personally put together. It had the famous Sir Relz and Noass scene where the noble Drake told Noass to take his monocle if he died, a Wall Lord of Pallass getting chased around by a huge Shield Spider, and the famous Lyonette-Bethal fish slap fight.

But it wasn’t just failure, see. He’d show it to a crowd of skeptics, and right when they were laughing, they’d see the screaming Drake from Pallass get backed into a wall. One of the [Hunters] that was there to save him from actual death would call out if he needed rescue, and the somewhat overweight Drake would look at the Shield Spider that was four feet high, mind you, check for weapons, which he had none of—then raise his fists.

Two and a half minutes of watching a pampered Pallassian Wall Lord bare-knuckle fighting a Shield Spider—and win—and you were thinking, ‘damn, that could have been me’. The triumph of him running the Shield Spider off? The fact that he had that clip of himself and, apparently, it had totally revolutionized his popularity in Pallass and his own self-confidence?

That was gold. That was also what Menolit wanted to see. Sure, it was funny to watch some rich idiots suffer, but one in, oh, forty times, someone just buckled down, gained a combat or [Survivor] class, and came out actually looking changed. That was why he thought Liscor Hunted was more than the funny marketing scheme he’d come up with.

Anyways, Menolit was voting for Lism in the elections. No questions asked. He didn’t like Lism given his relationship with Erin, but it was better than the old Councilmember Lism was up against. Menolit had been asked several times to put Liscor Hunted in the elections. To give some of the candidates of the ‘Traditional Liscor’ party a good sheen.

He’d refused. Nor had he given the current Council an option to have an ‘easy’ version of Liscor Hunted; they had wisely decided not to use that to enhance their image after one of Elirr’s competitors had had to retire due to falling into a Shield Spider nest. However, Menolit was hardly apolitical, and that was why, today, everyone was gathering around Liscor Hunted to watch the latest clip, which was going in the hall of fame.

The Lurkersnatch was one of the nastiest creatures in the Floodplains and an ‘honorable quit’ as far as Liscor Hunted was concerned. Like a Rock Crab, they couldn’t guarantee you’d be okay if you ran into it. You signed a waiver about knowing you might die; if one came at you, the advice from the organization and former participants was to quit. Lurkersnatches had huge tentacles and could crush a head and drag you into the water where you’d be drowning and being torn apart.

That was why seeing a half-Giant dragging one out of the water and punching it until it was rolling onto its back was a sight. Lord Mireden actually put one arm around the Lurkersnatch’s body, grimacing as it bit him with a beak, to keep it from getting into the water. Then he threw it into another hill, and, well, that was Hall of Fame material right there.

Someone who survived Liscor Hunted had to get some admiration from people voting. Not only that, the half-Giant wasn’t even done. He’d gone off after his dawn performance, and now he was back!

Lord Mireden turned as Menolit marched out into the awning where people were watching his clip, and he offered the Drake a salmon burger.

“Caught this not five minutes ago. Burger?”

“For free?”

Menolit eyed the burger but took it because free was free, and the half-Giant flipped another cut of fish onto his grill. He’d brought a damn grill and was wearing his t-shirt as people stared at him. Menolit had had to get it specially tailored!

The bastard genius of it all. He wasn’t even hiding what he was doing; the [Lord] winked at Menolit and the crowd.

“Well, I’m not offering any condiments besides salt and pepper. That’s how you know it’s free. The fish doesn’t need it, anyways. Fresh. With some of Baker Garry’s free bread. A loaf big enough to feed a half-Giant, which I was quite touched by so I elected to share the wealth. Doesn’t cost me a copper coin. Anyone want some Quillfish?”

 

——

 

You had [Marketing Strategists] tearing out their neck-spines trying to deal with him. The half-Giant had presence. He had style. He had gold and a damn aura and levels. He’d defended Liscor…the one thing he didn’t have was full household name recognition, and that connection to the inn was hindering him.

He could be beaten! They juuust had to find his weak spot. His vulnerability. Like stepping on little children, but no matter how many you pushed in front of him, he just helped them up and gave them bandaids!

The monster. Plus, he might have support from that inn, wherever it was! No one knew where The Wandering Inn might strike from next. Even the Watch Captain was compromised!

 

——

 

Watch Captain Zevara cuffed the protesting Drake from Zeres.

“Stop pushing children! If I catch one of you doing it again, I am arresting everyone here until the election’s over!”

She barked at the campaign team, who gave her offended looks. The Drake snorted smoke as she nodded at the Watch officers, who kicked the [Strategist] into a wagon for lockup. Then she rubbed at her face.

“These are not the mysteries I thought my new class would entail.”

“Well, until we get another Watch Captain, you’re stuck with us, Captain Zevara!”

Guardswoman Jerci shouted cheerfully, and the Watch chuckled. Zevara just rolled her eyes.

“I’m off on more cases. Senior Guardsman Lens not having any trouble?”

He was filling in at the Watch House in her district since Relc was on a day off. Everyone said that Lens was doing fine, so Zevara stomped off.

“People pushing children, stealing water—if I have to rescue another damn cat, I’ll kill someone.”

The things people came up with when they realized your entire job was to look into their delusions. After a moment, she came back.

“…Anyone check if it’s really Lens?”

Jerci gave Zevara a thumbs-up.

“I pinched his cheek in case it was a mask right before I left. He’s getting sort of annoyed by all the jokes.”

“Jokes, right…what else is on my docket?”

Zevara checked the list.

Water thievery. Someone trying to hire Liska? Missing dog. Prove the Brothers stole all the gems. Where is The Wandering Inn…

Zevara hadn’t been to the inn since her celebration. Well, she smiled to herself. At least she had some fun challenges.

This was not a story about Zevara either. Or Menolit. But as such things happened, like Kevins, a story about the Halfseekers was never just about them. Greater things were coming to Liscor, like storms on the horizon. Lightning amidst rain. But for now, Zevara investigated water thievery.

 

——

 

“I’m back. How much for water per gallon?”

The [Scribe] in City Hall gestured at Zevara helplessly as the person at the front of the line leaned on the counter. The Watch Captain rubbed at her head.

“Huh. That’s a new one for me. Excuse me, sir!”

She headed over, and the figure turned. He was a Garuda, probably from Pallass, and leaned on the counter.

“Yes? Watch Captain, am I in trouble?”

“Not at all. Just—are you trying to buy water? From our wells?”

“No, not at all. Just out there.”

He gestured to the window, and Zevara and the [Scribe] turned.

“…You mean from the Floodplains of Liscor?”

“Yep. I asked yesterday, but no one gave me a straight answer and told me to come back. So, here I am. How much per gallon? Per barrel?”

The Watch Captain hesitated. You know, this was a great question. Maybe he needed it for some project? She eyed him.

“Do you have a wagon team or, uh, that many caravans or Chests of Holding, sir?”

“Nope. Just a bag.”

He indicated his side, and she scratched at her neck spines.

“Well then, we’re not going to charge you to take water outside the city, sir. It’s not exactly the cleanest. You could probably get well water in most places without any problems. Too much might be an issue…[Scribe], do you disagree?”

“No, Watch Captain. Just, given how odd a request it is…I think you’re the same man who asked about taking water from the Merchant’s Guild, sir?”

“I went around, sure. It’s a nice city. I wouldn’t want to take water without asking. So…it really is free?”

The Garuda man seemed genuinely perplexed, and Zevara wondered if Pallass charged for drinking water. Probably. She smiled.

“Free. Thank you, sir, for your patience and time. Just watch out for monsters as you get the water. Oh, and undead! They’re more placid now due to circumstances, but there are areas with strong death magic; that has to do something to the water. At least the taste.”

He smiled as well.

“Well then. I thank you for your time and consideration, Watch Captain. It is a fair answer and one of generosity. I shall not forget it.”

He bowed, wing-arm to his chest, and she nodded back, off-put by his formality. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, he turned to the [Scribe].

“Very well, thank you for your time. Just one more question. Where can I buy barrels around here? If those are free, I’d love to know.”

They were not free, but he got directions to where he’d be able to purchase barrels that an [Innkeeper] or [Tavern Owner] might use and strolled off. Zevara scratched at her head. She did represent the concerns of the city, and Watch Commander Venim was feeding her intelligence—they had actual intelligence now—

But even so, water?

She supposed it was because other people had poked around the wells too. Ylawes Byres, apparently, and Lord Mireden…

The Wandering Inn. Which reminded her, one of the next items on her list was intelligence from the Free Queen’s Listeners. That she wasn’t supposed to have. That she actually admitted it was them and that she had passed the information onto Liscor’s Council showed how much the Antinium and the current Council got along. And, perhaps, how much the charade of pretending they didn’t know what each side was up to felt silly.

The two groups were closer to allies in actual truth, perhaps, than they’d ever been. The Free Queen had proposed amending some aspects of their agreement without the Walled Cities overseeing the negotiations. But that would only occur if the current Council survived their elections.

Changes weighing on this showdown in Liscor’s populace. Regardless, since the Free Queen had no idea where the inn was, she’d said to watch out.

Someone was trying to hire Liska. And Zevara had put it on her list, because, well…

It sounded really funny.

 

——

 

“Liska Coresh Silverfang.”

“Ugh, I hate that when you say it out loud.”

“…Your name?”

“Yeah. I was thinking I should change it. Get a real last name instead of Silverfang, because I don’t really remember my tribe. Liska…Hydrabones. That’d be cool. Liska Hydrabones. Or how about Liska Slickfur? Wait, that’s bad.”

The interviewers had to take a moment. This was already an unusual occurrence because Liska was a VIP-candidate, a rarity when they normally interviewed people with stringent protocols to ensure quality. She was a shoe-in for citizenship as long as she passed basic criteria…but still.

She was so young. A Dullahan on Pallass’ panel was trying to write down Liska’s proposed names until he decided it wasn’t worth doing. A Drake next to the Dullahan leaned over and spoke into the microphone.

“We’d need your actual name for, ah, citizenship, Miss Liska.”

“Oh, okay. Um. Liska Silverfang’s good. Yeah.”

“Your, uh, level, Miss Liska?”

“Uh…Level 32.”

“Level 32?”

It was practically twice her age! The panel glanced at each other, and one of their special members, an Eye of Pallass, sat up slightly in his chair. He nodded as he ticked something on his clipboard. Liska wavered.

“Er, shoot, I’m not supposed to really talk about my level and class. I think it’s 32? I lose track!”

“Of—of your level?”

“Well, it keeps going up. I thought after the Goblin King it’d stop, but nope! I swear, I pee hard enough and I just level.”

Liska folded her arms, sighing. The panel was now in debate, and they whispered to each other.

“Is she lying?”

“Detect truth says not…but it’s telling the truth about her forgetting her levels.”

“This is inane. Are we supposed to let her into Pallass? And give her citizenship, a house? We have waiting lists with actual [Merchants] on them who don’t have this level of treatment or priority!”

“Are they Level 30+ at seventeen years old?”

“They’re not from the inn.”

The panel members were interrupted by the Eye of Pallass, who spoke in a gravelly voice; he was a Gnoll familiar with the situation.

“This young woman is hand-picked by multiple officials of Pallass. Treat her like you would normally. [Enforce Mundanity].”

At his words, the panel blinked, and they felt more professional, more…relaxed. One of them tapped the speaking stone.

“Miss Liska, please be accurate with your answers. This is a serious matter, thank you.”

Liska jumped and sat up nervously as they frowned sternly at her.

“Right, sorry. I, uh—I didn’t know it was such a big deal.”

“Citizenship in the City of Inventions is highly sought after by cities in our aegis, Miss Liska. It is not guaranteed and very prestigious.”

“Whoa, really? I thought I was in trouble. Are you…maybe I should get my brother. This is a pretty big deal, right?”

The panelists wavered, and the Skill slipped, but the Eye of Pallass spoke smoothly, growling into the speaking stone with a smile for Liska.

“[Please Relax], Miss Liska. This is an excellent opportunity for you and your family. Your older brother, Ishkr, I believe? He has—declined our offer, but we can certainly inform him if you accept our citizenship offer. There are perks to our program, such as the housing lottery.”

Her ears perked up, and she sat up.

“What, an entire house? For free? Do I have to pay rent?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ve got a room at the inn, and food’s free, but a house. I could bring friends over. Have a party. Bring my…”

Liska hesitated. One of the panelists made a note and handed it to a flunkie.

“Can you bring a file on Miss Liska over? A more complete one. I have her Liscorian record, but run this through one of our [Investigation Specialists].”

Presumably the Eye of Pallass had all her files, but he wasn’t sharing. The panel continued after a moment.

“Class?”

“Er, [Doorgnoll].”

“Is that your exact class or general?”

“G-general.”

“Can you list your location of birth, affiliations, and cities or tribes of residence hitherto your current one? And jobs or classes obtained?”

“What, all of them? Okay…”

Nervously, she did, and the panelists found she was an unremarkable candidate in their eyes, especially for this prestigious position. However, her level and class…they muttered amongst themselves as Liska shifted.

“If you were admitted into Pallass, what would you say your contribution to the city would be, Miss Liska?”

“I dunno. I open and close the [Door of Portals] a lot. I’m really good at that. I guess I could man the gates? That’s a door.”

They stared at her. One of the [Interviewers] coughed.

“Miss Liska, in your free time, what do you like to do?”

“I dunno. Eat? Sleep? Go out and party?”

“Do you…have any hobbies? Any artistic passions?”

“I like Tales of Adventure and Woe. And watching the scrying orb! Did you see the comedy show on Sir Relz and Noass’ channel last night? I think those two are idiots, but they come out with some good stuff now and then. I turned it off when Noass did his special on ‘Things I Hate’. Boooring.”

Liska seemed to be aware she was losing the panel and flushed under her fur. Her confidence and swagger that availed her well when she was at work was vanishing here in this official space with the glass window between her and her interviewers. It was meant to make her feel small, and she was, in the end, just a young woman.

All her interviewers were twice her age at least. One panelist gave Liska a sympathetic, if searching, smile.

“Miss Liska, can you tell us…anything that would substantially contribute to Pallass in any meaningful way aside from your class?”

“Well…no. Sorry. I’m not a Lyonette, let alone Erin.”

The name of the [Innkeeper] made the panelist shift. They read their notes. One covered the speaking stone, and they whispered.

“That’s a no from me.”

“And me.”

“Agent, what are we looking for?”

The Eye of Pallass was frowning. Agent Zemize had told him to pursue this line of inquiry, but she was all over Troydel and the Earther connection…he didn’t have to back her. Struck by a thought, he tapped the speaking stone.

“Miss Liska, I have a question. Regarding the Goblin King…”

Her expression grew instantly guarded.

“I can’t, uh, talk about it. I don’t know anything. I wasn’t there for most of it.”

He’d expected that. The other panelists just regarded him, highly skeptical; most didn’t even believe it had been the real Goblin King. Even the agent, with all of his intelligence and reports, felt skeptical. But he went on.

“I won’t ask for those details. Just…you were there when the Goblin King emerged, were you not? I have you, Alchemist Saliss, Magus Grimalkin, Ishkr, Witch Thallisa all listed as engaging the Goblin King before he appeared on the scrying orb. Is that correct?”

Even a ‘Numbtongue’, a Hobgoblin, but that wasn’t pertinent here. Liska rubbed at the side of her head.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s all a blur. It’s not like we stopped him. He went through us like…like…”

“A hot knife through butter?”

One of the panelists suggested. Liska frowned.

“I dunno, I’ve never tried that. But really fast. I didn’t do a thing, really. I tried my Skills, but he just tossed me. Then my head turned into a pancake, and I would have been dead except for Saliss. That’s all I did.”

Again, the sheer incredulity of the panel pressed down on Liska, and she hunched her shoulders. The agent frowned. That was what he was curious about. She didn’t seem to be like the others. She didn’t have some background of subterfuge or training like the [Princess], she was no adventurer…

“Well, that ties nicely into my question, Miss Liska. May I ask…if you knew the Goblin King, a horrific monster—let’s say, just for the purposes of visualizing this—if you knew he was coming, why didn’t you run? You were by the [Door of Portals]. Reports have you locking it down. You could have fled and locked it from the other side, couldn’t you? Why would you stay? You’re no combat class.”

It was a good question. He suspected the answer was that she’d panicked, been needed to operate the door, or someone had told her to. The panelists glanced at the agent, and Liska frowned.

“Why?”

“Yes, Miss.”

She sat there, thinking for longer than it seemed she should have. As if the question were particularly confusing or perhaps too odd? Because when Liska looked up, she frowned and spread her paws.

“I dunno. I guess I didn’t think about it.”

Now there was incredulous laughter from the panel.

“You didn’t think about the Goblin King, Miss? As in, it wasn’t the actual…Goblin King.”

Liska replied somewhat uneasily.

“No, it was him. I was scared so bad I think I peed myself. But…I dunno. Ishkr kept telling me to go, but I couldn’t. Not if it was him.”

“Why not, Miss Liska? Fear? It’s quite understandable.”

The Agent of Pallass sat back in his seat, and she responded clearly.

“No, because I knew if he got out, he’d start killing people. Like, my city. Or Pallass or…there’s no door that could stop him. He could go anywhere, even rip open the door, I thought. So someone had to try to stop him. Just…try. Even if it only helped a little bit.”

She cast around in the sudden silence.

“You know?”

The interviewing panel sat there, and Liska grew embarrassed and uneasy, as if she’d answered the question poorly. But the assorted members—one of each species, Drake, Gnoll, Garuda, and Dullahan—glanced at the Agent of Pallass, then the truth stone shining white in front of them.

Then they saw the reason she was here. Several of them marked items on their checklists. After a moment, one of the panelists asked in a far friendlier voice—

“Miss Liska. Pallass has room for everyone to move ever upwards, ever higher. We’ve even been known to elevate outstanding members into the Walled Nobility. It is highly, highly rare, but there have been two cases this millennia! You may be familiar with one—Grand Strategist Chaldion. With that said, do you envision a path forwards for yourself in your class that is greater than where it is now?”

It was a question they asked all people, and Liska’s face lit up as if this, ironically, was the easiest question.

“Oh yeah! I can definitely see myself hitting Level 40. Level 50 sounds crazy, but I want to level!”

“And what would a [Doorgnoll] class give you, Miss Liska? More…doorknobs?”

They were having trouble with her class, so Liska smiled and sat back.

“Nah. More places for the door to go, and I can charge it up with mana!”

“You can charge a door with mana? Someone else’s Skill?”

“Sure can. And block whomever I want! I used to train on that asshole [Lord]. You know, the one with the face like a block of stone?”

“Lord…?”

The agent hit the speaking stone.

“You mean Lord Tyrion Veltras?”

“Yep. I mostly lost, but I got him a few times! I figure that I could probably beat him a lot more if he doesn’t cheat and get help. Plus, there was this doorguy from Invrisil I met, and we got to talking, and I think I could hold off a lot of stuff if people tried to break down my door. You know, reinforce it? He said he could hold off a full battering ram, and I’d like to try that! On my time off. And…I dunno, that’s the big stuff. I get tired sometimes, but I’d like to hit ten thousand people through the door.”

“Ten thousand people through the [Door of Portals]?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’d hate working that much, but it’s a good number. Round. Sounds impressive. Ishkr said he’d buy me all the food I could eat at Wishdrinks if I did it.”

The panel regarded each other. Now, they were giving each other subtle nods or thumbs up under the table. This…this was a teenage prodigy. One with ties to the inn. This was an asset.

The agent himself was nodding as he smiled down at Liska.

“Miss Liska, I think I can speak for the panel when we say we’re pleased to accept you as a citizen of Pallass.”

“Oh. Whoa! That’s cool? But what if I’m, you know, Liscorian? And I work for Lyonette, and I dunno if I can just change jobs.”

He smiled smoothly as the others gasped a bit.

“Dual citizenship is acceptable, Miss Liska. As is working at an inn! It only requires an oath to the city and some paperwork, which I can certainly have someone fill out for you—because of your unique class and level, we are prepared to offer you not only a house, but a stipend. Gold, connections, exclusive perks—”

She was brightening up, eyes growing round, and he bet the inn didn’t pay her as much as it should. Or give her luxury treatment; they didn’t want to spoil her. But if it meant getting her on their side…The Wandering Inn might object, but it couldn’t beat Pallass in a gold-pissing match for pampering someone. Heh. Heheheheh.

Wait. The Eye of Pallass paused and blinked.

His [Warning: False Assumption] Skill had just gone off. Why had it…? He made a hurried note, rattled, as Liska bounced slightly in her chair.

“Really? My own house? Can I—I’ve got a mother who lives by herself, but she’s in her own place. Could I get, like, a separate room or something for her? And I could hire a [Carer], right?”

“Absolutely, Miss Liska. We could get you two homes—and help for family. And your brother.”

“Whoa. Really? You’re sure?”

The panel was nodding, and the agent was checking the time. They’d gotten Liska during one of her breaks; even if the inn was aware of what they were doing, they wouldn’t get a chance to talk to her before the panel swore her in at this point, and citizenship was more than just a word. You could enforce loyalties sworn if you wanted to get unpleasant, but mostly—it was about making her feel Pallassian. He stood.

“Why don’t we get you a copy of our national oath and we can get your paperwork done, Miss Liska? You can tour a place for potential homes if you can extend your break?”

“No way. I could ask Asgra to take over—you’re sure? This isn’t a joke?”

She was sold. His Skill, [Lowered Guard], had multiple uses in a fight and in these situations. The Agent of Pallas turned with a triumphant smile to the panel, not anticipating any pushback because they saw what he did.

But to his surprise, and then horror, the Drake panelist had a hand raised.

“Excuse me, agent, I’m so sorry, Miss Liska. But we might have to, ah, reverse our decision.”

Two of the panelists were nodding, and one, the Garuda, wavered and began to argue with them. The agent turned as Liska’s smile faltered.

“Wait, why?”

The Gnoll Eye of Pallass strode over to the others and whispered as they cut the speaking stone again.

“What’s going on? You can see she’s an asset!”

He hadn’t expected them to disagree with him; most people didn’t! But the committee were sighing over something. The Drake pushed the paper in front of her towards the agent with disgust.

“We just caught this—good thing too. Look.”

He stared down at the piece of paper, then up at her.

“Ridiculous. Approve her!”

“Are you mad?”

All but one of them gave him a look as if he were talking crazy. The Eye of Pallass whirled.

“She’s a Level 32 asset from the inn!”

“And this is Pallass. We have standards. I can check, agent, but—excuse me, Miss Liska?”

The Drake keyed the speaking stone and smiled with sudden, icy politeness at Liska. The young Gnoll woman’s wagging tail slowed as she picked up on something being off. Or recognized it.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“We have, ah, just one issue with your file on record. Could you clarify for the panel a few counts of public indecency leading to your arrest with the Watch? We do not, normally, count small misdemeanors or past actions. But it says in your file…”

The Drake woman drew back slightly as if reading something, then peered at Liska, whose ears drooped. The Agent of Pallass was biting his tongue. The [Interviewer] coughed, then smiled.

“Tell us about your significant other, Miss Liska.”

The Agent of Pallass saw Liska hesitate, then fold her arms and clam up. He turned to the panelists, and only the Garuda shot him a pained glance. The Eye of Pallass opened his mouth to argue, then furiously began writing notes in his clipboard.

An Ancestors-damned Saliss of Lights. A second one. We have one shot at her, and this damn city is going to toss her back. 

He stared at his clipboard, then at Liska. Then the Eye of Pallass had the thought for the first time in his head—

How many are we losing like her?

It was an uncomfortable thought. He stood after a moment and strode out of the interviewing booth; there was nothing to be gained here. He needed a word with Zemize.

She was not going to be happy.

 

——

 

Watch Captain Zevara didn’t, obviously, get to enter Pallass, but she snuck into the portal room where Liska was working. She had a feeling The Wandering Inn was close by. All her instincts told her that Lyonette had pulled a fast one, and if she maybe…tried the other doors?

But she was smiling because she wanted to see about the Liska thing first. There were two scenarios: either she said no, which would be funny, or she said yes, in which case, drama!

That was Zevara’s assumption, but when she saw Liska sitting on her couch, mechanically sending people from city to city, the Watch Captain’s grin faltered.

“Er, hello, Liska.”

“Hey, Captain Zevara. Need to go anywhere? Need to find the inn?”

Liska didn’t turn to her. She was staring at the ground. As if weighed down by something. Shame, perhaps. She was so uncharacteristically unhappy that Zevara hesitated, then coughed.

“I, uh…I was actually searching for you. I, erm, heard you got an offer to live in Pallass.”

The [Doorgnoll] twitched slightly. She turned away.

“Everyone to Esthelm, go. Wait for your turn to enter. Oh, I didn’t know it was that important. Ishkr says I was stupid for agreeing to it, but it’s fine. I failed the interview.”

“You…failed the interview? How?”

That surprised Zevara. Unless the people interviewing her were idiots or Liska had told them to eat their tails, Zevara was sure they’d accept her given her level alone! Liska didn’t answer for a long while, and Zevara’s new [Detective] instincts began to ping her.

Wait. Wouldn’t they do a check on her? What was the most controversial thing about Liska? Not her attitude. Oh…

“I guess I’m just too nasty to live in a Walled City. It’s okay. I’ve got my rooms.”

The girl was facing a wall now. She wiped at her face.

“Everyone to Celum, go. Wait your turn—”

There was a slight catch in her voice. Zevara saw people moving past them without glancing at Liska. She hesitated, then tapped on the barrier that protected Liska. The [Forcewall] opened. Zevara sat down on the couch.

“Hey. I know I’ve…I know the Watch has arrested you before.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the law we’re enforcing. We don’t—it’s my job to enforce the rules, even if I disagree—I can interpret—”

The young women didn’t respond. She called out another destination, and Zevara lowered the claw she was reaching out with. She sat for a long moment, then coughed.

“Pallass is full of idiots if they turn you down. I’d approve you in a heartbeat if I was interviewing you for Liscor.”

Liska half-turned. Her drooping features turned into the smallest smile.

“That’s a nice lie, Watch Captain.”

“I don’t lie, Liska. I mean it. That was the dumbest decision I think they’ve made since General Edellein sent 2nd Army into the High Passes. And maybe I am the fool, because I—the Watch—why are we wasting time and gold hauling you in unless you actually hit someone with a brick?”

That was a good question. Zevara blinked, and Liska blinked, and it felt like they both heard the question in the open air for the first time. They stared at each other, and then Liska swivelled around a bit. She peered at Zevara curiously.

“Um…everyone to Riverfarm, go! Do something. Do you mean that?”

“I think I do. At least, I’m questioning it. That’s my class.”

Zevara was thinking, but it sounded right. Liska hesitated, then glanced at the door.

“Now to Pallass. I guess I got fooled by them talking about how fancy it is. Everyone wants to move to Pallass. My mother used to talk about it when we were small. That’s sort of why I got excited. She lives in this really crummy place, even though it’s nicer now. And Ishkr does all the work so…”

Ah, her mother. Zevara’s treacherous memory pulled up a file. She closed her eyes.

“Yes. That’s very considerate of you, Liska.”

The girl pulled her knees up to her chest.

“I know she’s sick, and it’s her fault. Lyonette’s planning a war to help Tessa. Not a real war, but it’s gonna be big. Do you…do you think maybe if she can help Tessa, she could help my mother too?”

Ah. There was a question that made Zevara pause. She didn’t know. But it seemed to her that despite Liska’s unhappiness and the silly nature of her own ‘investigation’ that had been thoughtless…it seemed to her they’d asked one truly important question. She placed a hand on Liska’s shoulder and smiled.

“You know what, Liska? That’s a fine question to ask. Do you know where the inn is? Let’s ask Lyonette.”

The [Doorgnoll] hesitated.

“But the door! I’ve gotta keep moving people through!”

“Let them wait. If you don’t matter, then Pallass can wait all day.”

Zevara shot that one at one of the [Guards] on duty, and the Drake lifted his claws at her as if to say, ‘who said that? I’m not an idiot’.

So, the Watch Captain rose, and Liska led her to a door. They marched down the hallway towards an inn. Little things, small things. After a much more understanding [Princess] had asked for more details from Ishkr and sent Liska back with a milkshake and orders to get Asgra to fill in if necessary, Liska was perked up. She sat, smiling, as she directed people through the door to every city except for Pallass for twenty minutes.

Zevara sat with her. After a long moment, the [Detective] coughed.

“Well, uh, Liska?”

“Yeah? Long enough or should I keep them waiting more?”

“What? No, no. I’m not in charge here. Not my jurisdiction. I was just wondering…would you introduce me to your, ah, girlfriend?”

Liska nearly choked on her drink. Zevara took a nervous breath. She meant everything she said, always. She just hoped that in the course of her investigations, she didn’t have to kiss anyone.

And this moment? These little events, the quiet day?

All of it was just…chance meetings on the wind. Events that interconnected and wove themselves ahead of the coming storm.

A prequel.

 

——

 

So what was actually coming?

Lord Mireden Raithland stripped off his t-shirt and dressed himself in his magical robes. Then he walked back into the inn where Liska and Zevara were chatting together and a huge crowd of people waiting for Pallass were grumbling. But the Gnoll girl just barked at them.

“Pallass pisses me off, so it’s once an hour, not every five minutes! You want to take it up with the boss?”

“Yeah!”

She jerked a thumb at her chest.

“You’re looking at her. Eat shit!”

Lord Moore smiled as she caught his eye.

“Oh, hey, Lord Mireden. You want Pallass? I’ll do it for you.”

“No, not at all. Just Liscor. And I’m perfectly content to wait; I’ll be doing a lot of that. Thank you.”

He took a place in line, then tapped his watch. A magical image, clear as crystal, appeared before him. A few people in line turned at the crisp sound coming from the watch until Lord Mireden tuned it to his hearing only. When they asked to hear, he changed it back.

Wistram News Network, Channel 1. It was still a Pallassian-dominated broadcast; there had been lots of talks to change the nation and location of the broadcast, but because Sir Relz and Noass had started the broadcast, there was now industry and levels here, so Wistram was loath to go elsewhere.

They had a few Wistram-exclusive broadcasts from their academy, and they were flirting with ‘buying’ a channel from the competition and adding it to their network, but the big ones were still Pallassian.

Channel 1 News did Sir Relz and the disgraced Noass hosting big events, political and trade news. The ‘adult’ channel. Lord Moore knew for a fact that everyone in the inn and most young people preferred Channel 2.

Channel 2, which was ‘entertainment’, but Drassi would still cover news, just more cultural stuff. She had on high-level people and hosted a much wider range of activities like cooking or gossip on events; a different kind of news that you could disparage, but was no less important.

There were more channels now, of course. Channel 3 was just music from every continent. Channel 4 was sports…Channel 5 was magical lessons from Wistram, a new addition.

One look at Magus Rievan teaching classes and Moore changed channels, commenting to people in line.

“They have to replace that man. Just utterly uncharismatic, no? Oh, what’s this new segment?”

Channel 1 had a little description of upcoming segments as Sir Relz broke the day’s news: it was raining toads in Desonis, a magical storm had begun in northern Terandria, Bloodfeast Raiders strike in Izril, and so on. He pointed at a broadcast titled, ‘I Hate Everything with Noass’.

One of the Gnolls in line rolled her eyes.

“Utter trash. I watched it with my husband yesterday, and he loved it. It’s just thirty minutes of that Drake insulting something he hates.”

Lord Moore’s intelligence-gathering about this timeline had led him to believe Noass had been in trouble for insulting everyone but Drakes just a bit ago. It seemed the Drake had turned that into an asset. He grimaced.

“Let’s see what Drassi is talking about.”

The door to Liscor opened as he watched the news, and Lord Mireden stepped into Liscor. He wandered the city, occasionally stopping to talk to someone, but really, killing time.

He wasn’t the only one. It appeared school was out, because Lord Mireden halted reflexively as someone ran past him.

“Visma, watch out! Don’t hit anyone!”

A familiar gaggle of kids ran past Moore, and he raised his voice.

“Careful where you’re running! Don’t go into the street!”

The giggling Drake girl barely seemed to hear him. She had a birthday present in her clawed hands. A wand for magic classes. And she was currently firing spells from it.

They looked like bolts of lightning in arrow form, but they weren’t even [Lightning Arrows]; the illusions were Tier 0 and bounced off panes of glass and the ground as pedestrians recoiled, then shouted at the kids.

“I’m Archmage Amerys! Fear me!”

“Nuh uh! I’m the King of Duels! Hah! Take that!”

Ekirra slashed at her with a sword. For all his warnings, he was more in danger of hitting one of the kids and turning their play into a crying episode, but the other kids were just as enthusiastic.

Even the white Gnoll girl was running around with a broom she was using to swat at people. Lord Moore smiled at Mrsha as she teamed up with a Drake girl to attack the boys.

“We’re [Witches]! Run or we’ll sweep you!”

Rinni was shouting as she and Mrsha chased Golly and the other children, who yelled.

“No fair! You can’t broom us! We’re Named-rank adventurers!”

“Then fight!”

Children at play. The funniest part was one of the Drake boys shouting.

“I’m Saliss! I’m gonna explode!”

He tried to rip off his pants and got tackled—meanwhile, Visma was having the most fun. She chased the other kids, screaming.

“I’m gonna lightning you all! I’m invincible!”

She was laughing as the rain amplified the very, very weak lightning magic, giving the spells enough energy to cause fake sparks and make hair rise ever-so-slightly.

And that was it. The half-Giant walked on, then glanced up. He blinked into the rainy skies and frowned. Then shaded his eyes.

“Hmmm?”

 

——

 

Archmage Valeterisa was done fishing after quite some time with Relc and more fun than she’d thought. But she had cast a warming spell to heat up, and she was wondering if she could hint to him that some snuggling would not go amiss.

She was watching him brag about his biggest catch to Bird, with whom he apparently had a fishing contest.

Something was bugging the Archmage. She couldn’t tell what. She kept glancing upwards towards the sky. It was like…a premonition.

Or…she peered out the window, then unlatched it and poked her head out. Squinted upwards.

“Apprentice? Is there something odd with the weather? A storm is coming, I think.”

“Really? Well, if that’s so, I’ll tell Miss Lyonette, Master. Don’t get wet, and close the window, please? How bad is it?”

“I don’t…know.”

Valeterisa wasn’t sure about her instincts. It wasn’t like she predicted the weather. But this…she squinted upwards. Was someone sending bad weather this way? It seemed aggressive. But whatever it was, it wasn’t actually here. It was like energy before a storm.

She pulled her head inside, and those two were the only ones who noticed anything at first. At least, in Liscor.

 

——

 

Four hundred miles south, in Pallass, Magus Grimalkin was reading a book on intimacy. It had a lot of detailed positions in it, and he didn’t know why he had it in his collection; probably to study the various forms of species. He was reading it, uh, for different reasons these days.

Even now, the Sinew Magus couldn’t believe his luck. And he was highly distracted; Lady Pryde had been discussing the benefits of their various exercise regimens with him, and they had gotten onto the subjects of hot tubs for invigorating the muscles. Spas.

And private baths. She had vouchsafed he might wish to partake of one, and he had indicated that he’d love to set up a test group to compare that with hot baths and saunas and public spas. Lady Pryde had given him a buffet from her aura that he had begun to pick up meant he was thinking too academically. She proposed an alternative. What if they had a bath in a very un-scientific sense?

He had, of course, agreed. Now, the Drake was distracting himself, but he kept glancing out the window. Peering at the blue skies and frowning.

“Feels like a storm. But why?”

The fact that he’d even picked up on it despite the tracksuit on the ground and Lady Pryde splashing around in the heating bathwater was commendable on his part. The Sinew Magus went to the windows and gazed out of them. Then he cracked one open.

“Grimalkin? Prideful as I am, I don’t quite intend for us to have an audience. And the bag stays on.”

Pryde called at him, and he hurriedly shut the windows and blinds, mindful of the moment. But he kept peering at the window until he was fully distracted.

“Strange…”

 

——

 

There was a storm, actually. Not just the one forming on Terandria’s southern coast; that was a magical storm that would shoot down southwards at speed, soon. One of those would have made it all so much easier.

This was a more mundane storm, not worthy of any astrological note, except for people caught right under it. Mere lightning and rain, no swirling mana that could produce a magical storm that created tornadoes and waterspouts with ease.

But a storm was all you needed, even a mundane one. It just had to have the right components. Lightning flashing down, whipping winds, the howl of rain as it bathed the Kingdom of Medain in water.

Even on the coast, Chandrarians loved the rain. They stood in it, smiling, and the crackling lightning boomed strongest on the dry continent. One bolt forked downwards, splitting, and the peal of thunder roared across the High King’s palace.

Another one cracked down, power from the heavens. A charge in the clouds—it was all very scientific, and Earth had figured it all out, but for all their grand talk, there was something primordial about this force.

In this world, it was both electricity and magic. Lightning was infused with a kind of potential that few elements were. Even a wildfire’s hottest couldn’t come close to it. Upon this one element, another world had powered everything. Faster than anything Humans had made.

Brilliant—the flash that lit the blue-black skies. The second bolt traced a zig-zag line across the sky, arcing towards the top of the High King’s palace.

She caught it before it could touch the roof. People watching from the streets gazed upwards, mouths open as the lightning bolt froze in the skies. The High King watching from one of his balconies slowly retreated inside.

The Archmage laughed. She held the lightning in one hand as her magic transmuted it. Absorbing the killing power, redirecting it. Using the power to hurl herself at a speed nothing could match. She pivoted and threw the bolt of lightning across the sea. Until it was a blinding ray vanishing into the horizons in moments. And she?

She was gone with it. Not as fast as it would have been alone, streams of power trailing behind her, zig-zagging northwards, but flying. Her every step thunder, her green hair crackling with magic.

And her eyes, like electricity themselves, gleamed. The Archmage of Lightning became a bolt crossing blue-skies, an impossible flicker that made [Sailors] far below her peek up—but by the time their heads rose, she was already gone.

That had been this morning.

By midday, she had already hit land.

She passed Pallass two seconds after Magus Grimalkin closed the window.

 

——

 

Even with the power of the storm in her, crossing the ocean wasn’t easy. Archmage Amerys had to slow down once she reached Zeres, and she navigated well around it; they could detect her.

They probably had detected her, but what were they going to do about it? She blasted past the City of Waves before their alarm spells had finished ringing. And she kept going.

It was all about the storms. She moved from lightning front to front—that was the fastest way to travel. Across the Great Plains, into a huge thunderhead—out of it as Gnolls gazed up at her.

The Weatherfur Tribe. She paused just long enough to signal she meant no harm, and the [Shamans] raised their staffs—onwards.

Laughing as magic drained out of her. This was reckless, even for her. She hadn’t done this since Flos had been awake the first time. They’d probably forgotten she could do it. Thought it was some ritual.

All it took was a mana potion and the will to dance. 

Her feet were tired. Her body wasn’t healed from her long captivity in Wistram for all her rehabilitation. But this was the best exercise; her form arced as she appeared in the air past two surprised Wyverns with riders.

A woman in green robes, her hair floating around her, posing like a dancer mid-step—then her body crackled, and she became an arc of lightning that flashed onwards.

A mile a step. Or thereabouts. A lot of steps, then—so much slower than it should be. Barely three times as fast as a [Lightning Bolt] spell, really.

That was the secret. Lightning magic was slow. It was nothing like the speed of real lightning. Even [Grand Lightning] wasn’t as powerful as a true bolt from the skies. Even with all her magic, Amerys was a woman.

In her fifties, aged, not the heaviest, especially after being imprisoned for a year and change, thank-you-very-much, but so much matter. Lightning was just particles. Even with her mastery of it, she was so much slower than a true bolt…

But she could still do this. 

She slowed once for the Bloodfields of Izril. Because she’d never seen them before. She’d either gone around the High Passes due to the danger or just not needed to go this far north. The woman admired the splotch of red from above, then she saw the storm gathered around the basin.

“The Floodplains of Liscor. At last.”

She drank the second mana potion and tossed the vial down. The empty glass glittered and spun towards the Bloodfields. Amerys took another step, and then she was there.

 

——

 

A jagged streak of energy crossed into the air above Liscor, and Archmage Valeterisa looked up from her meal of seared fish. She turned.

“Apprentice? You felt that. What—?”

 

——

 

Lord Mireden turned off his watch. He gazed upwards as a spot of green appeared amongst the clouds, suddenly lit up by a flash of lightning headed horizontally across the sky.

He reached for his staff.

 

——

 

She’d actually overshot her target. When the Archmage of Lightning saw the city below her. She laughed.

“So this is Liscor! I must take a picture for Flos!”

Now, where was she? And that inn? It had vanished, but Amerys had a feeling she could find it. She sent tracer-magic in every direction; she and Mars had agreed it would be near Liscor, no matter what they were doing.

She hovered in the air then, panting. Smiling, floating downwards as the confused city began activating some alarms with no visible reason why.

There were no armies at the gates. No monsters coming from the waters. No breaches in the city.

So why…?

She was still just a speck in the sky, but as she fell to earth, she gathered her magic about her in preparation for what was to come, and it was both magic, aura, and her class.

They said of Archmage Eldavin that he was the greatest Archmage since Zelkyr, and perhaps that was true. She had never gained his measure and was wary of this stranger.

All Amerys knew was what she was. And her level.

She was Amerys, the Calm Flower of the Battlefield, one of the King of Destruction’s Seven. And her name was both truth and joke. Her skin was dark, tanned like Chandrar’s folk, and her hair was leaf-green, like the plants she had never seen before leaving her homeland. Her eyes glowed like a Golem’s or Drowned Woman’s when she was casting magic.

So they were always sparking. She wore the most traditional garb she had: The robes of the Archmage of Lightning. Cloud-patterned sky blue and silver clouds, mixed with the royal red of Terandria.

Now the air was charged around her, and lightning was sparking off the rain, flickering from spot to spot despite the impossibility of it. Below her, people in the city standing on carpets began to swear as static electricity shocked them out of nowhere.

The air was brightening. But at first, the Archmage just observed. Wishing she could see the Antinium Hive below…she focused on the ones on the walls. The countless peoples below her.

Drakes made such a fuss about the bug-people, and they all looked like insects to her. But her gaze was sweeping right and left.

“Strange. Does she have a guest? That Sinew Magus?”

She’d sworn she’d sensed another great spellcaster here. Amerys’ gaze passed down a street where a group of children were playing and stopped.

She fixed on a little Drake girl waving a wand and wearing what seemed like copies of her robes.

Could it be?

The little bolts of lightning. The gleeful way the girl leapt, as if she could fly—Amerys blinked in disbelief, but she had long known her legend.

So then she smiled and pointed down at the chance thing today. For such things mattered. Because of that, Amerys halted a moment and decided thusly it was now. She waited as the girl raised her wand.

 

——

 

Visma Hilcevr was laughing and chasing her friends, who kept shouting at her she wasn’t playing fair. But she knew she was right.

“I’m Amerys! Run! Run, cowards! I’ll fry you! Zap, zap!”

Her wand was out of magic from being used so much, but the girl didn’t care. She swung it down like she felt an Archmage would at Ekirra as he tried to dodge backwards, shouting. Her wand shone with the memory of magic—

Krakthoom.

The bolt of lightning, real lightning, touched down just off of Liscor’s walls, and Visma shrieked more in surprise than fear. She whirled and stared up at the storm.

Lightning? As a native, Visma knew that lightning during the spring rains was actually not that normal—but after that heart-pounding moment, she decided it was amazing.

“See? Fear my power!”

She shouted at Ekirra. He whined.

“My ears! That was loud!”

Ow.

Mrsha and the other Gnolls came over rubbing their ears. Visma stopped for a moment as Mrsha frowned upwards.

That’s weird. Lightning doesn’t normally come from the storms, right? The weather’s…off.

“Maybe it’s a summer storm now? Who cares? Run, run or I’ll zap you! [Lightning Bolt]!”

Visma threatened them, and Ekirra grumbled.

“I’m tired of running. You should run from us!”

“I don’t run from anyone! I’m Amerys! I said run—”

Visma swung her wand down to point it dramatically at Ek—

THWOOM.

This time, her heart definitely skipped a beat. The Drake girl flinched. Everyone cowered as another bolt of lightning touched down on Liscor’s other side.

“Whoa! That’s so close! Maybe it’s a bad storm? We’d better get inside!”

Kenva was nervous; Pallass sometimes had bolts of lightning hit the walls, but Visma was shouting. It was raining real hard suddenly. She squinted up at the sky.

“No! It’s proof! Look! I have the power!”

She held her wand up, and Mrsha produced her own wand to write.

No, something’s really weird. Visma, maybe it’s a magical storm. We might need to get inside.

“Don’t be a wet Gnoll, Mrsha!”

I am already.

Ser Dalimont appeared out of nowhere to speak.

“Miss Mrsha, my instincts also say something’s amiss. We may have to return to the inn, everyone.”

Visma wouldn’t hear it. She pointed her wand at the [Knight].

“Silence! I’m—”

Kkrooom.

This time, Visma remained frozen where she was. Everyone else did likewise. They were mid-flinch, all of them. Staring at her. At her wand. Visma’s earholes hurt. She gazed at the little wand, and Ser Dalimont’s eyes slid sideways.

“Mrsha. Did you help get Visma that wand? From the inn?”

Everyone turned to Mrsha, and she raised her paws.

Not me! I swear!

“It’s just a coincidence. Just swing it again, Visma.”

Kenva, the logical one, urged Visma. The Drake nodded. She lifted the wand tentatively and gave it a little shake. Just a tiny one. Not that she was afraid. Just…

Nothing happened. Everyone relaxed and smiled. Visma laughed nervously despite herself.

“Yeah. Hey! You ruined my best magic yet, Kenva! That was so cool! I just did this and—”

KRACKOOM.

Nobody moved. Visma stared at her wand as the world turned black and white. Then they gazed up. The little Drake girl didn’t know what she was looking for as her head craned up to the dark skies, but she knew it.

It wasn’t her.

There, hovering in the skies, so still they’d missed her as a mere blotch against the rain, was the woman. She hung in the air like an image in a painting, the wind failing to move her. Posing, one arm raised. The other grasping a tiny wand.

Like…one of Visma’s dolls, but so detailed that the [Puppeteer] knew it was not. The figure didn’t move as Mrsha slowly wrote in the air.

Dalimont? Inn, now. Everyone, come with me. Visma, Visma—

The girl didn’t hear her friend. This was a daydream or something. One where she could fly…only her heart was pounding way too hard. Still believing this was a lie, Visma raised her hand and waved the wand once, tentative.

High in the skies, the Archmage of Lightning moved. The air flashed, and Visma lost sight of the world for a second.

A bolt of lightning struck the waters a thousand feet past the walls. It illuminated the woman overhead, and she was suddenly in a different pose. She hung there, unmoving, and now…

Now it seemed as if she was gazing down. Straight at Visma. The girl eyed her wand. But it couldn’t be, right?

She waved it again—

Thunder rolled across Liscor, and citizens cried out. They hid under their canopies of mere cloth, gazing skyward. This was no storm they had ever known! Like Visma, their cries turned to silence.

They saw her.

But the Archmage of Lightning had only eyes for the girl. They held each other’s gazes as Visma held the wand in an arm suddenly trembling, as if it had all the power in the world.

The power to call down lightning. She was afraid to move it. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the woman above her.

“V-Visma?”

Kenva was covering her head, shaking. The Drake girl said nothing at all. The wind was raging around her. Rain spattered her dress from all sides, which was good because she was pretty sure she’d wet herself.

Then the Watch’s bells joined the alarms blaring from Liscor’s walls. Visma still did nothing. If she moved her arm—

“The inn! Everyone else, get to your homes!”

Ser Dalimont roared. He grabbed Visma up in one arm, and Mrsha was running as he held his shield up. That broke the spell. At least, between Visma and the Archmage. Visma could finally lower her arm as, above her, she heard faint laughter.

Then the lightning truly began to fall.

 

——

 

Amerys laughed. She hoped she hadn’t traumatized the little Drake girl. It was just a tribute to someone who remembered her name.

She hung in the air, sweeping her hair back, and her eyes followed the [Knight] in golden armor. And the white Gnoll girl. They were headed to the inn, she had no doubt. But first?

She snapped her finger, and six bolts of lightning hit the Floodplains. Amerys swept her arms around her, and a clear area opened in the storm now lashing Liscor. It shielded the city as she turned.

“Where are you, my dear colleague? Where is that inn?”

She drifted in the skies until her tracers came back. Her spells reported settlements across the Floodplains. But she was searching for concentrations of mana.

Not much anywhere. Low-level enchantments. A stronger source coming from one of the farms, but probably just an artifact or something.

A village of death mana? That was further out.

Interesting…there was powerful death magic in patches too, but naturalized. Where—?

Then she sensed it. A far, far stronger patch of mana. Amerys almost missed it. Despite knowing what she was looking for and her level, it was like the conclusion escaped her. She snapped her fingers.

“A—”

 

——

 

“—ha.”

She appeared in the air in a corner of the Floodplains of Liscor and cast around.

“Damn. No inn.”

The village was right there, though. And Amerys’ instincts were telling her…she narrowed her eyes.

“This is some Skill. I’m starting to second-guess myself even now. Does it get…stronger?”

The mana-detection spell was detecting less mana each passing second. That was unnerving. Something was beating her spellcasting? Adapting?

If so, she’d not get a second chance. The Archmage clapped her hands together. Then she dropped a bolt of lightning out of the clouds and threw it at the water.

A warning shot, all volume, not enough electricity to even kill the fish in the water. Amerys projected her voice using a spell.

“Residents of The Wandering Inn, I have come in peace! Not to make war; kindly show me where you reside. You and I know I am unlikely to find you twice if you keep your trick active. But I am the King of Destruction’s [Mage]. I have come from Chandrar. I beseech you: let me in. It is a meeting of stories. And what are we without stories?”

Her eyes glittered, and she spun in the air.

“I swear upon my magic I mean you no harm. I shall endanger this inn not at all! On Gazi’s eyes, I promise; on my [King]’s head, I swear it.”

She did like a bit of whimsy and elegance to her address. Once more, Amerys froze in the air like a dancer captured by time, and then her head twisted around. She smiled.

“Especially not with that aimed at me. Have we an accord?”

She stepped, and she was standing upon the waters. Now she could see someone. It was as if the young woman with red hair had appeared out of nowhere. She had a weapon in hand, and a [Knight] in golden armor stood next to her.

“Archmage Amerys. I don’t believe we have invited you. What do you want?”

From the first words the [Princess] spoke, Amerys loved her. And she thought—if anyone could have caught her [King]’s eyes when he was that age from noble, simpering Terandria, it might have been her.

Who had given one of Calanfer’s [Princesses] a spine? Amerys bowed.

“I have no invitation. Are they issued, then? For I would find one, if so.”

Lyonette du Marquin hesitated, then handed her weapon to Dame Ushar and folded her arms.

“No. But most of our guests do not come throwing lightning and bringing storms.”

The Archmage drew closer, her feet leaving ripples on the water as she skipped forwards, light as a floating bubble. She scrutinized the [Princess]’ face and understood.

Something is greatly wrong with her. But ‘twas impolite to comment on such matters at first meeting, so she did not address it.

“Yet. From all that I have witnessed and seen and heard tell of, the [Innkeeper] will bring more of my ilk in time. I envy you. I pity you.”

She meant every word. Her [King] had expressed the desire to visit. But the [Innkeeper] was gone. Amerys knew this. The inn was only half of her visit, and the smaller half by far.

 

——

 

Lyonette was shivering as Archmage Amerys approached. The closer they got, the more rattled she seemed, though not perhaps by Amerys’ level and nature alone. She raised one hand to her cheek, then lowered it.

“Your Highness, your daughter is safe and well along with Visma. Both your daughters are now in the [Garden].”

Ushar whispered, and Lyonette never took her eyes off the woman hovering there. Amerys’ robes were rising around her, and she looked like a character from a children’s book Lyonette had once read to Mrsha.

A true Archmage.

“What do you want, Archmage Amerys? Just admittance?”

“If that will grant me the phenomena of the inn, yes. If you can start the event without needing me to sit in the inn, then please, by all means begin. I shall not take unneeded time. Soon, my enemies will swarm, and I have business in Liscor.”

Her tone was refined, a court-mage’s, a scholar’s, but she had a directness as well that reminded Lyonette of adventurers. A Wistram-trained [Mage] who could fight actual battles. Lyonette felt her blood rushing. Something was wrong. She nearly touched her cheeks again.

“Inn phenomena?”

“Yes. What is the term? Ah, ‘Solstice Events’. I have heard it said that this inn provides miracles and tragedy. That it changes one’s life in a day. I wish to experience it myself. I hunger for change. Oblige me and I shall thank you with the King of Destruction’s generosity.”

“Eternal Throne.”

Ushar whispered. One of the King’s Seven knew the phrase ‘Solstice Event’? Lyonette wanted to laugh, but Amerys was drawing closer, and the rushing agony in her blood was getting worse. It wasn’t just the pain of her cracked soul…it was thrilling. Like the power to do anything. Agony of the same.

“We cannot just…create such moments, Archmage. Nor do I wish to draw more attention to the inn than I already have. The fact you found it is alarming.”

“Ah, well, my method will not work twice. Your Skill unnerves me, [Princess]. It is growing stronger. Will you at least let me walk the inn’s floor? Admire the [Garden of Sanctuary]? I confess, I will bring strife. I do not come in peace for some. Your inn I have vowed to spare, and I shall, though I know its location not at all, even now.”

The woman was peering at Lyonette’s face, and the [Princess] was gasping. She felt static-electricity buzzing from her teeth, across her cheeks.

“Your magic is too powerful, Archmage. If this is peace—”

Dame Ushar was staring at her in horror.

“Your Highness, your skin. The cracks—”

Only then did Lyonette realize lightning was crackling from the cracks in her face. Between the red, angry lines hidden by makeup, electricity was jolting outwards. Even across her cheeks, as if she were a copy of Amerys. The Archmage of Lightning drew back a step, and the terrible energy in Lyonette’s chest reduced.

“Fascinating. You are echoing my power. Truly, this inn would make him laugh. I only found this place due to my level, didn’t I? And it was Mars who had to point out the obvious. Mars.”

She shook her head ruefully, then held a hand up as Dame Ushar extended a shield between her and her ward.

“I withdraw my request. I can see my very presence is causing you agony, [Princess]. I hope your affliction can be cured; I am no worker of miracles. But I hear there is a great [Healer] in Izril. Perhaps she can aid you.”

“I intend to visit her shortly.”

Lyonette rasped, and Amerys paused. Her smile flashed over her lips, as fast as her magic.

“How dearly I would wish to witness it. But to business, for I hear the Walled Cities panicking. I have no intention to bring one to heel again…today.”

Lyonette gasped. Such words! She was in pain, but her class and pride refused to let her step back. She wouldn’t have, not for all the gold the inn had. This was still…Amerys.

“Bold words, Archmage. For a woman that Zeres alone held back at the height of the King of Destruction’s power.”

She was ignorant of how Ushar gaped at her. So focused on Amerys’ words and the woman herself that she didn’t realize how she spoke to the woman who terrified armies. Amerys’ face was too delighted to make Lyonette second-guess herself. She threw her head back and laughed.

“Is that how they say it in Izril? Held back. I failed to breach Zeres’ walls; this is true, and the fault is that I was too weak. Yet I did not see that city of countless millions storm over me like the waves. If one woman were indeed held back by an entire city…yes, fair enough.”

“I see. I do apologize for any discourtesy I implied. Merely that Pallass is an ally of the inn at times. I would not wish strife on either party.”

“So very well said, Princess. I take no offence at all.”

“Lyonette. I am no [Princess].”

This time, the Archmage’s chuckle was so rich that Lyonette’s lips had to quirk. She sketched a curtsey, then spoke.

“What else may we oblige you with, Archmage? I could at least provide you with refreshments for your long travels. Anything else?”

Amerys snapped her fingers, and the clouds rolled. It might be her one main trick…but it still made her like a [Storyteller of Legends]. There was no way to overcome the primal awe of her power.

“I shall have an Amentus juice and pizza slice, if you please. Merely to brag to my lord I did. Second, an autographed card of one ‘Mrsha’. That is not for myself, though I might as well request two. The last request is the trickiest, if simplest.”

“Mrsha?”

Lyonette’s reserve broke here, and she spluttered. Amerys nodded.

“It is a fancy of my peers. One of them; Mars to be exact. She is a great lover of fluffy and cute things, and the child fits both bills. It is also Mars’ opinion the autograph is appropriate for reasons she will not tell me.”

Amerys paused as Lyonette held her tongue, and the Archmage’s eyes glittered.

“She is the greatest [Warrior] of Chandrar, perhaps the entire world. Her instincts do not fail, you see. She knew where the inn was, though it took days for her to think it out. It was that which prompted this occasion along with the provocation.”

At this moment, Ishkr came out the door to the inn, and Amerys actually recoiled in shock. But he had the requested items on a serving tray. She laughed at him.

“Who are you, stranger? The three of you could be His Majesty’s vassals all. And that funny Drake on the television says this inn is ‘inconsequential’ now. Does he not have eyes? Well, he has that stupid monocle.”

She knew Ishkr’s levels. He bowed as she took a bite of pizza, a sip of the blue fruit juice, and swept the cards off the tray. She handed him a diamond as fat as his thumb. He proffered her several autograph cards.

“Would you care to sign these, Archmage…?”

Laughing, she did. Then caught him before he turned.

“Should you desire work, seek me out, [Waiter]. Or His Majesty.”

He bowed and retreated with a smile for Lyonette. She sighed and then spoke. One of the [Necromancers] hidden around the new inn was gesturing for Ishkr to get more autographs; Lyonette glared Master Elosaith back into his hiding place.

“Archmage, it has not been long, but I think you are a woman who appreciates swiftness, and the attention of the world is crackling, if you will excuse the pun, towards us. I am loath to be on the scrying orb again so soon. What do you desire for your final request?”

Amerys bowed. She swept herself upwards, and now, she seemed wearied. Lyonette noticed the wrinkles on her face, probably hidden by makeup, and a certain weakness to her delicate movements.

“Forgive me. It has been a long trip, and though I have leveled, I am weaker than my raging youth in so many ways…I delight in our conversation, though it is true: without the [Innkeeper], I did not come for the inn. Thank you for indulging my fancy. I shall remember you to the King of Destruction.”

“Please don’t.”

A smile flickered across Amerys’ lips. Then she leapt backwards into the air and hung there. Her voice grew and boomed across the Floodplains of Liscor.

“It is not for the inn that I made this journey, nor shall it be the inn that sends me whence I came. All here know me; they know of my betrayal at Wistram. I have strived with every Archmage who was responsible for my capture. The [Mages] of Wistram I hold still in contempt for their treachery. Forty some lie dead that were too unwise to flee me. I have lost count already.”

Her head turned, as if regarding the [Scrying] spells now finding her. Amerys addressed the air and her audience on the ground.

“This…Archmage of Memories I shall meet on the battlefield in time, I have no doubt. But you? You surely knew the moment you heard my thunder who I was here for. They say you duel; I challenge you to one now. Defend the honor of the Academy of Mages or I shall drag you wailing into the sky. I have received your mocking challenge, though you doubtless did not expect me to bring it so swiftly to your face. You who have slumbered half as long as my King of Destruction have clearly forgotten who I am. So, face me, Archmage Valeterisa.”

Her head turned, and her eyes shone like spotlights. Lyonette slowly turned her head towards the inn, and inside, a very upset woman tried to duck beneath the windowsill.

 

——

 

Everyone was staring at her. Archmage Valeterisa’s voice quavered as she looked at Relc, Montressa, and for a way out.

“I-I sent no such challenge!”

But it occurred to her that even if this were true and this was some laughable misunderstanding—which it was—

She was going to have to go out there and tell Amerys that.

Amerys had always scared Valeterisa. And that was before the King of Destruction had woken up.

Montressa gazed at her master and the Archmage of Lightning hovering in the storm she was conjuring. They were both Archmages…in title. But one of them was trying to get into the [Garden of Sanctuary] as the three girls inside tried to eject her.

 

——

 

The Archmage of Chandrar twirled on the waters, her feet tapping on the liquid surface of the Floodplains like a marionette in a surreal glass world of watercolors. If that alone was too much for you, do not meet her eyes.

She trailed tracers of lightning, afterimages of her body flickered from place to place like some gigantic firefly. She was warming up. The same odd, swaying dance that was both slow and combined with the speed of a [Lightning Mage] was her battle style.

She had not come here to eat pizza and sip blue juice. The very mana in the air was turning to the lightning element; the feeling like the tingle in the air before lightning struck. Everything was taking cover.

Fish were swarming away from her, causing visible currents in the water. A herd of Rock Crabs scuttled over a hill and down the other side. Even a few skeletons decided to hotfoot it into the water.

Amerys waited for her opponent, and this…this was familiar to her. The world had changed so much in the year of her imprisonment that had felt like far longer. A hellish aeon of confinement and helplessness defined only by her will to refuse to suborn her loyalties. Then, the disappointment of both foes who fled her king’s legend and great events seeming to miss her; an Archmage out of nowhere, magic produced like a [Magician]’s tricks that had not been there when she was young. Frustrating, in short.

This made her feel young again. The Archmage threw her hair back in a spray of rain, and it hovered as she watched the droplets of water turn into miniature orbs of lightning. This was older than she was, old as the dawn of this world. Older than that, in some ways. It was the thing that all those who believed in magic knew.

A mage’s duel. Like the challenge of warriors, there was a calling to it. Here were two Archmages of Wistram. Two who were ideologically opposed. Valeterisa, a traditionalist for all she was a recluse, part of the Terras faction.

Amerys, the servant of the King of Destruction, who had openly cut ties with the Academy, thought to be the greatest living battlemage in Wistram…until Eldavin.

How could it not be war? Oh, certainly, when the timid Archmage of Izril finally did appear, seeming rather as though someone had shoved her out a window, her first move was to conjure a white flag and wave it before levitating towards Amerys, requesting parlay, a truce, clarity, and non-aggression—but you knew.

Just look at her.

Did anything about Amerys look like she had come for civilities? In fact, the eyes upon Amerys was the thing.

Her presence had been noticed by the Walled Cities, of course, and powerful mages across Izril. Her advent in Liscor had set off every alarm, literally, and while it took Wistram News Network precious minutes to locate her and begin broadcasting, there was another kind of resonance going on worldwide.

A familiar one. It had been a moment or two since the last time, hadn’t it? But the moment people heard about it, they felt that sensation. Like the King of Duels fighting the King of Destruction. Like other moments—but this one was special.

An Archmage’s duel in our times? When they heard that, they stopped, dropped everything, and listened.

 

——

 

“Amerys has found Valeterisa? Oh no. Tell her to run.”

The first person to speak in Wistram Academy was Archmage Viltach, who paled and reached for his wand with his new arm. Reflexively—the memory of Amerys tearing up the banquet hall he was sitting in was vivid. He had nightmares about it.

“She’ll kill her. Amerys, I mean. Valeterisa doesn’t stand—is she headhunting [Mages] in Izril now? Tell anyone who’s Wistram-affiliated to take cover!”

Another [Mage] squeaked. Half the ones in the room were buzzing—not fully with sympathy, for Valeterisa was not well-loved. But Amerys? Viltach whirled.

“Scrying orb. Is this on television? Should we cut the broadcast?”

“Cut the broadcast?”

That question was derisive, and Viltach flinched. For like so many moments, it was Archmage Eldavin who spoke as if his fellow Archmage were a fool as well as a dullard. He sat at his own table and turned.

“If they do battle, or Valeterisa loses, would this not affect Terras’ reputation, Archmage Eldavin?”

The cool question came from Archmage Feor, the second-most important half-Elf in Wistram. Maybe soon third if Eldavin kept elevating his own people in levels and magic. Eldavin’s mismatched eyes were icy as he raised a finger to his temples.

“It would, Archmage Feor. But are you suggesting we visibly sever a live broadcast of such magnitude? While other news networks, doubtless, will prove our censorship and make us seem like fools?”

“That was not my assertion. I was merely asking a question to Archmage Viltach’s point—”

Feor glowered, but Eldavin was already conjuring a massive scrying spell in the air. He spoke dreamily to everyone, and Viltach felt his skin tingling. As he occasionally did, Eldavin’s words seemed to be older than this room itself.

“This is a battle of Archmagi. A Mage’s Duel. I am attempting to contact Valeterisa, and if aught can be done…this is a sight worth witnessing, children. Such moments have defined entire eras. Not just in spectacle. Not just in terms of victors and losers. Magic witness it: you shall rarely ever see two experts strive against each other thusly. And thus, seldom see finer spellcasting.”

His words were that of an immortal. That of a great spellcaster, and, Viltach realized, he could also not take his eyes off the image hovering in the air. Nor was it mere entertainment.

 

——

 

Consumed by vengeance, castle abandoned.

Not cold…he had begun forgetting what cold was, even in memory. The Lich of undeath, Az’kerash, stood in an empty field where dying Landsharks gazed up at glowing-eyed undead. Then fell limply.

Rose.

But the undead merely waited, and the Chosen, who had fought this battle, were shifting. For their master, who had pushed them harder than they had ever been tested these last few months, was different. Today no less than others.

He was…

Digging.

A literal shovel in hand, ignoring the offers of his Chosen to do the work for him, heedless of the literal Bone Giant he could have used for the same purpose. Digging a hole already three hours into the making, carefully.

Very carefully.

Az’kerash only paused in his labors when he received a brief spot of information across his networks of informants and compromised magical spells that fed him knowledge of the world. It cost a great deal of mana—here at least—but it was worth it. For he put the shovel down and floated upwards.

“Two Archmages have met in Liscor? [Cloaked Scrying]. All will halt. Children: observe.”

He sat cross-legged on the grass, abandoning his task for a moment. He barely knew either woman as they met in the rain. They were not [Archmages] worthy of the name…well, one wasn’t. The other might be close.

It did not matter. Az’kerash watched, and some Human part of him stirred in remembrance. But even the Lich watched.

“Master? What does it matter if two mortal magi die? Unless their bodies…?”

Venitra was trying to puzzle it out. The Necromancer replied softly.

“To learn, Venitra. The spellcasting of the modern era, the level and techniques used. And yes, to know who falls and where they are buried. But to see…”

His mind flashed back to a living heart beating, and Perril Chandler whispered once.

“To see whose vision of magic is truer. What [Mage] would not witness it?”

 

——

 

Not just [Mages]. Flos Reimarch halted his ride towards the next battle.

“Amerys did what?”

He gazed at the scrying orb that Death Commander Ytol was holding. Disapprovingly, Death-General Losve growled.

“She has abandoned her front? It explains the failure of her forces and others! Your Majesty, shall I contact her and order her retreat?”

Flos wasn’t listening.

“Liscor…? And she didn’t take me. Outrageous!”

Of his many vassals, the Rustängmarder and Gazi were present. And of the many groups that had served the King of Destruction, they were some of his most ardent followers, Death General Losve being much like Gazi in that respect. However, Losve had never quite understood Flos like the rest of the Seven.

“Did she not inform Your Majesty of her actions? To make war on Izrilian cities without permission is treasonous, Your Majesty.”

The slits in her vizor blazed a wrathful green. However, Flos just kept staring at the orb, dismayed.

“No, she told me she was going off to beat another [Mage] senseless and needed backup and Gazi’s help—don’t be overdramatic, Losve. She used to do this all the time. But she didn’t say Liscor. Probably because she didn’t want to carry me, and Orthenon would put up a fuss! Gazi! You conspirator!”

The half-Gazer ducked her head, smiling as he glowered at her. Flos groaned.

“I could have eaten one of those blue fruits! Someone send her a [Message] to get some for me!”

The Death General’s ire wavered out like a candle blown by a breeze. Flos was only mad he’d missed out! She hesitated.

“Shall we continue our advance, Your Majesty…?”

The King of Destruction threw up a hand.

“No. Halt the army. We watch.”

He smiled, a too-eager, envious grin flashing across his face, and the Rustängmarder shifted, aware that the King of Destruction’s focus had been sapped by this flight of fancy. Yet the army was already gathering, eager to witness this moment from their beloved Archmage.

Only Losve and her people were unmoved. She cast a glance southwards.

“Nerrhavia’s Fallen may not honor this moment as others, Your Majesty. If they should bid to attack?”

He turned his head, and re-focused a moment, frowning. Flos stroked his beard.

“If they should, I will do battle. But it is a fair point, Death-General. Take your pick of officers unwilling to yet die. Bring the battle to our foes of today if only to buy us an hour’s reprieve.”

“As Your Majesty wills. Have I leave to rout them?”

“Yes.”

The green glow from the Death-General’s eyes matched her smile as her helmet rose.

“Have I leave to raze them if they resist?”

“Yes.”

He wasn’t paying attention. The King of Destruction watched before turning his head once.

“Gazi? What set Amerys on this particular quest? I would have thought she’d challenge Nerrhavia’s Fallen before setting off to Izril.”

“Apparently, she was challenged, sire.”

His brows rose in frank incredulity.

“Truly?”

“The image was suspect to my eyes. But you know Amerys.”

“Hah. Yes. She likely needed little more than that. So that’s why…the Archmage of Izril seems to be a far frailer woman than the being who lifted the City of Incantations. She may well run rather than duel. Who is that Drake? I feel as though I know him.”

Gazi’s eyes fixed on the scrying orb where a Drake was following Valeterisa, albeit at a remove.

“That would be a [Spearmaster]. The one from Liscor. Relc the Gecko. They appear to be coupled.”

“Interesting.”

Flos Reimarch went still, then, watching as the two Archmagi drew closer.

 

——

 

Belavierr the Stitch Witch understood science. Not in the same easy way of a physicist who conversed with numbers as if they defined everything, but in the way of a [Numerologist]. As someone who understood what people believed so she could manipulate it. Who studied the box so she could shake that which was inside.

She understood, then, the oldest adage of physics. A lever. With a simple lever, one could move…

Anything.

Building the lever was difficult. Some tasks were too weighty even for her. Still…the work went on. She was taking step by slow step upwards. It was hard work. Gruelling.

Even so, the dead Kraken straining upwards, its ruined body ensnared by vast strings—that helped. One of four, the largest by far. Smaller, living Krakens strained next to it, terror giving them strength. For if they died…she would still have a servant.

Belavierr did not watch the image of the two women approaching each other. Well, she did, but she watched many things.

She watched the faces of those observing this conflict, so many threads converging on a singular moment, proof of this changing world. She observed the strands of fate that drew these two women together. She watched two different kinds of magic meeting…

“Strange. Not a traditional duel then. A variant.”

She knew them all. This was virtually as primordial as the first. The Stitch Witch took one step.

The seafloor shook.

 

——

 

The faint tremor didn’t reach the deck of the ship that the King of Myths sat on. It was merely a slightly larger wave from further away.

Magus Tserre’s arms were folded. She was giving commentary as Princess Vernoue watched almost as raptly as the King of Myths.

“So these are modern Archmagi. The one with green hair wins.”

“Magus, you cannot issue such boldfaced proclamations before they’ve even begun. Are they both not great [Mages]?”

Nuvityn protested. Indeed, Archmage Valeterisa was seen to be protesting vehemently with her equal, and her body language suggested a fight was not in the works.

The old half-Elf just turned her head.

“They may be, but one is a battlemage. The other is not. And before you speak, Commander Voreca, yes. I have caught up to modern events. Archmage Valeterisa might well serve as a [Battlemage]. It is not the same. It would be like sending Prildor forth as an [Archer General]. Serviceable, but entirely different to the King of Bows.”

“Hey! I resent that! Er, which King of Bows is it? Itrei-who? Dead gods, they’ve died again. How good is this fellow with a bow? The last one, well, she could barely hit a fly’s wings from four hundred paces.”

Nuvityn just watched, heart beating too quickly. Tserre appeared bored, but her eyes never left the vision of the two approaching. Then she grimaced and whispered.

“She’s definitely watching. She enjoys this thing, though she has sent more [Mages] to their graves since anyone save for Valmira herself.”

Once more, Nuvityn turned his head as that piece of Tserre’s puzzle revealed itself. But then he focused on the scrying orb.

 

——

 

Tserre was right.

The Death of Magic had a bucket of popcorn.

 

——

 

By the time the two met, they were aware of the scrying spells hovering in the air like a vast tangle of overlapping ‘eyes’. Though that was, Valeterisa considered, mind a-jumble of thoughts and emotions, such a simplistic way of thinking of it.

“It’s more akin to a tangle of cones. In most cases, traditional [Scrying] is, um, a bounded field of vision akin to a cone. It is based on actual eyes in some way, I understand. That is how it can be disrupted; manipulation of said cone in the air easily distorts the image. More adept spellcasting is far more advanced and does not necessarily have the same shape. A way one can observe superior spellcasting without even identification of the magical amplitude, Apprentice. As so…”

She was highlighting some of the scrying spells until the young woman whispered.

“Master, please! She’s right there.”

Valeterisa knew that. She just didn’t want to meet the other woman’s eyes. Valley licked her lips.

“Strange, you know. It feels like being a new [Mage] all over again. They say you never really leave your academy days behind, and we were both in the same place…she always was very intense. Not that she bullied me, per se…”

Relc and Montressa were exchanging glances as they [Waterwalked] towards Amerys. They had offered to come with Valeterisa for moral support and because this was not a fight. Valeterisa had clarified that to Lyonette, though she had asked if maybe the inn would consider posting Bird in the tower. And they had a ballista!

The [Princess] had rather unhelpfully told Valeterisa that the inn was ‘not getting involved’ and to take it elsewhere. Which was very hurtful to a paying guest!

This was all some huge misunderstanding, and once Valeterisa cleared this up, they’d all laugh and laugh…

She recalled Amerys’ laughter being distinctly unsettling. Valeterisa fiddled with her big moon-shaped glasses and reminded herself she was, in fact, the Archmage of Izril. Just…

Just not like that.

Amerys really was unfair. Valeterisa knew for a fact that the other woman wasn’t that much younger than she was. Amerys had already been famed before the King of Destruction. Yet Amerys seemed decades younger. Was it just good alchemical products or illusion spells?

Then again, Amerys had always been taller and more graceful. Valeterisa was keenly aware of her grey hair, which only had faintly blue roots of the Imarris bloodline. Her robes were a slash of grey over green; respectable, but not like the cloud of distant magic adorning Amerys’ frame. And her eyes did not shine with the depth of magic. They were merely clouds into a distant vista of incantations she longed to one day uncover.

When she halted, and Montressa pushed her gently, Valeterisa stumbled forwards over a stupid little wave of water, and she and Amerys were not at a height. The Archmage of Lightning was floating off the water in a showy move.

Valeterisa-Analysis: Not [Levitation]. She’s actually flying, but it’s not [Flight]. I knew it wasn’t—it’s some kind of spell based on her lightning magic. Probably less mana-intensive.

Valeterisa-Ego: Still too showy. We should levitate so we’re of a height.

Valeterisa-Doubts: No, wait, that will make us look insecure. Which we are.

Valeterisa-Analysis: She’s got her amulets up. No static barrier spells deployed, naturally. She intends to be mobile. But she could still probably weather several [Siege Fireball] before her shields go down. Could we even hit her?

Valeterisa-Doubts: We’re not fighting her! We’ll die!

Valeterisa-Ego: We can’t look bad in front of Relc and Montressa! We—we can take her. If we had to. Right?

Valeterisa-Panic — Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…

Valeterisa-Analysis: I calculate her velocity to reach here from Chandrar must have been in excess of…my math cannot be correct. How does she have that much mana? Replaying memories of her duels.

Valeterisa-Doubts: We’re so dead.

 

She knew her [Parallel Thoughts] were going out of control. She couldn’t help it; she was, as the children might say, mildly freaking out.

As she halted on the water, Amerys stopped her dancing and hung in the air, one foot resting against the other, her toe floating an inch above the water, arms folded. A pose she seemed able to just…hold.

Valeterisa stood there. After a second, she bounced on her toes. The [Waterwalking] spell made the water feel like jello. She belatedly realized she hadn’t cast any magical spells to avoid getting wet. She was getting soaked.

“Erm…good morning, Archmage Amerys. The time now is 11:14 AM. Which would mean it has been, um, about nine years and twenty-six days since last we conversed. And five hundred and twenty-two minutes. Give or take. So good to see you. I did not send any challenges or insults, and any assertions to the contrary are not wrong, but perhaps, um, misinformed? How is the faction doing?”

Valeterisa’s mouth was acting with one of her thoughts, not quite in sync with the rest of her. Amerys chuckled softly.

“Valeterisa. I forgot how you talked. We met in the skies above the Meeting of Tribes, or have you forgotten?”

“Oh, um. Yes. Quite. Yes, we were on the same side!”

The Archmage of Izril brightened up.

“In light of this common event, I congratulate you on your escape from Wistram, um, and your King’s reawakening. Quite a lot of wars in Chandrar. I hope you’ve levelled?”

Amerys said nothing. Relc and Montressa were staring at Valeterisa, and she was trying very hard not to sweat. After a moment, she gestured.

“This is my apprentice, Montressa du Valeross, and, um, Relc.”

“The Drake? Who is he?”

“My…a person of interest to me. R-romantically?”

That did surprise Amerys. She did a double-take, and her eyes stopped focusing on Valeterisa like unthrown lightning bolts. She blinked and inspected Relc. He fiddled with his anti-magic spear.

“Now that is fascinating. You, the one Archmage I thought would find love after Feor? Ah, but he clings to his pretentiousness. I have heard the new Archmage, Eldavin, is not so…discreet. Funny, between us all, it makes Viltach seem the most normal. He is the only one who has actual children who speak to him and an ongoing marriage.”

Oh, they weren’t going to discuss the threats? Valeterisa smiled weakly. This was small talk. She could do that.

“Yes, Archmage Viltach. Very good with children. Have you had any pleasant conversations with him of late?”

Amerys tilted her head.

“Let me think. Well, the last time we spoke, I was trying to rip his heart out. Feor’s too.”

Ah. Valeterisa’s small-talk projection model exploded in her head. She bit her lip.

“Yes…quite regrettable.”

“I’ve quit Wistram. Whether or not they acknowledge it, I do not entirely care. But as I am sure you know, I serve Flos Reimarch. It is war with Wistram, even if neither side cares to make full battle of it, and though I do not know this ‘Archmage of Memories’, he has not deigned to make peace for Wistram’s imprisonment of me for a year.”

Now was an excellent time for some disclaimers. Valeterisa lifted a finger.

“I wish to clarify that I had no notion of your imprisonment at the time. I was sadly occupied with my own work and had no input into the matter.”

“Oh, I know. You were always too apolitical for that. Obsessed with magic for magic’s sake. I always admired that of you, though we were never allies.”

Because you’re very scary. Valeterisa nodded.

“And I quite admired your spellcasting and, um, zeal. So…we may consider this regrettable rift between us closed?”

Montressa winced as Amerys put her hands together like some [Monk], smiling beneficently. Before shaking her head.

“No. You are Wistram’s Archmage. I am wroth with the Academy of Mages. I did not lie, Valeterisa. Every Wistram mage that I have met is either surrendered or dead. So many claimed apoliticality, and perhaps that is fair. The institution they belong to has still committed acts they are responsible for. That is what affiliation means. That is what nationhood means.”

“A—very good point, though I would posit that some of us object to the acts of our larger institutions?”

“Oh, naturally. In my sweeping claim, I did not point out that I spared anyone who would be simply too young to account for their actions. I do not battle children unless they give me no choice.”

“Thanks for the clarity, yes, this is a very valid distinction.”

“You do not fall under that exception. I came, per your challenge. An insult was given, and I am here to settle the score.”

Oh, Amerys’ small talk was rather like a hurricane. It whirled and whirled and came to the point with more force than it began. Valeterisa swallowed.

“Upon truth spell—”

“Hah!”

“Upon, um, various lie-detecting methods, I would like to swear I have no knowledge of any challenges or insults given, Archmage Amerys. And if this is by way of my faction or my silly apprentice—”

“Master!”

“—I disavow and apologize for any such incidents.”

Amerys paused, regarding Valeterisa. She frowned, then produced something. Valeterisa activated a dozen barrier spells instantly and cocooned herself in magic. Amerys paused with a little image hovering over the palm of her hand.

Valeterisa blushed, but she only edged a bit closer as Amerys made the image big enough for Relc and Montressa to see. The audible voice was…familiar if distorted since your voice did not sound quite like it did in your own ears. But it was definitely—her?

Archmage Valeterisa was sitting in a scrying orb image, speaking with her eyes slightly off-center, which happened if you were conversing to multiple people on a call.

“Yes. I would like to, um, note that my transportation magics are not quite ready for disbursement, but our progress is quite satisfactory. It will be a highly cost-efficient method compared to [Teleportation]. Whereas I understand the appeal of the latter spell is considerable, it is not, mm, practical for bulk transport, Fissival’s case being a notable exception due to centuries of work, and I cite the current disrepair of the system as another issue. Individual teleportation is a different service I can discuss after the next question? Thank you.”

Valeterisa remembered this. It was from just last week with her investors. She blinked. How had Amerys…? Then she saw her eyes flick to the scrying orb, and the image wavered slightly as she brushed at her hair.

“Archmage Amerys? That is an interesting question, thank you. With respect to her, I, um, believe she is quite inferior to current Terras [Mages]. Her lightning-based magic is very showy, but she has not created any transportation networks, which indicates the flaw in her own spellcasting. If she had the ability to do more than do battle, I believe Chandrar would be a far different place. Not that I consider her not to be an Archmage, ha-ha. But I can assure you, any [Mage] of Terras will be far more magically competent within a year’s time…”

Archmage Valeterisa’s mouth stayed open in horror as Amerys tsked softly.

“I do believe it was meant only as an internal boast. But such things have a way of reaching me.”

“I—I did not say that! That is not a statement I uttered on call!”

Was it? She was almost positive, but Valeterisa initiated all the memory spells she had to make sure it wasn’t something she’d just blocked off or let a [Parallel Thought] say. But she was positive!

It didn’t even sound like her. She didn’t disparage other [Mages]! Well, at least not to anyone but Montressa or Relc! And never Amerys. But there was a good point about the lack of any magical works…

Valeterisa peered at the image.

“Can you replay it?”

Amerys did, and Valeterisa raised hurried fingers.

“Firstly, I believe this is some kind of advanced illusion, though highly, highly competent. Note the flicker in my features before I begin talking? Second, my voice registers as 11% higher than my regular pitch, which is almost imperceptible but indicates a mimicry spell not perfectly calibrated. Finally, I believe the cadence and my grammatical structure are off in ways I can cite—”

“Probably, yes.”

Amerys vanished the recording, and Valeterisa halted, her flurry of thoughts and clarifications cut off again. It was always like this with the two of them.

“Y-you understand?”

“I thought it was oddly said by you. We have known each other for years, and you may make political statements, but you do not insult my magic. Moreover, one of your investors having the wherewithal to record and send this to me seemed odd. I suspected it might be an Ullsinoi prank, though they usually have some benefit in mind…Gazi observed all the things you did.”

Valeterisa relaxed. She smiled and stood straighter before waving at Relc and Montressa in relief. They just stared at her, and Relc jerked his chin at her urgently.

“Well then! I am very grateful for clearing up the misunderstanding, Amerys, and in the future, if you would like to communicate any such apprehensions to me, I would be delighted to—”

“Oh, I didn’t really care if it was fake or not. I thought it was excellent timing. We are going to duel, Valeterisa. I’ve wanted to see what you were made of for a long time.”

The Archmage of Izril froze, and then she finally caught onto the moment. She peered up at Amerys, and a wand appeared in her hand where she’d been concealing it with a cantrip.

“I…don’t believe that would benefit us, Archmage Amerys. I am against a duel of any kind, even in friendship.”

“It’s not friendship, Valeterisa. There are many reasons to duel. You are Terras. I’ve been bored; the only [Mage] I know of in Nerrhavia’s Fallen with levels to match mine is hiding, the Silken coward. I wanted to remind Wistram how far I roam. I intend to steal your magic. But mostly, I want to.”

Amerys was famous in Wistram for picking fights with [Mages] for no reason. From the [Cryomancer], Illphres, to other [Mages], her duels in the banquet hall and elsewhere…but she’d never tried Valeterisa.

Possibly because Valeterisa had avoided her and she’d had all the sport she wanted. But now? Valeterisa’s mouth was dry.

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll just hit you in the back. I have sworn not to attack the inn, but you are quite a ways away from it. If you can reach it without me taking you out, I would consider that a defeat in and of itself. Or…you could hand me all your magic and I will leave.”

Valeterisa’s mental alarms were peaking. She tried to smile, as if this was a jest.

“Archmage Amerys, most of my grand magics are at my mansion or other lodgings. Even if I were to wish to hand them over, I could not. What makes you think magic is something you can just steal?”

The Archmage of Lightning swooped down, and now Valeterisa felt Amerys’ lightning magic trying to overwhelm her own mana pool. Amerys grinned as she glanced down.

“This is technically true, but you haven’t been back to your mansion in half a year, Valeterisa. I checked. And you stay at that inn, and I hear rumors you’re building quite a lot. But no capable [Mage] would dream of leaving her theorems and spellbook in an inn, even The Wandering Inn. No, you’d keep it all on your person. Everything you know. Everything that the Archmage of Memories might have taught the only peer he has in his faction.”

Oh no. Valeterisa could almost feel the spellbook with the spells Eldavin had scry-copied for her burning in her bag of holding. And Amerys was looking right at it. She had always been a peerless debater. She was a battlemage, but her insight and reasoning were still that of what she was. A Wistram [Mage].

“So you see, Valeterisa. You may thank Archmage Eldavin’s many wondrous inventions and all the magic he boasts no one else has for this. What are we to do when one magical school has more magic than any other? History teaches us a simple solution.”

Magical war. Loot their spellbooks. Valeterisa’s lips were moving, but her mind was a flurry of thoughts. Spells.

She was not ready for this. Relc, Montressa, they were in danger. Lightning magic. Feor had said even [Greater Lightning Ward] had failed against her. She was the fastest [Mage] in the world.

I can’t beat her. Talk my way out of—

Keep the apprentice safe.

Who made the—?

Got to be a way out of—

“Amerys. I would like to make a personal plea to our fr—acquaintanceship over the many years we have known each other. I do not desire strife.”

For a long moment, the Archmage of Lightning stepped back. She flickered onto the waters and thought, genuinely thought, and Valeterisa waited, breathless. Troubled, Amerys stared at the waters below her, the sky, then settled her gaze on Valeterisa.

“That does trouble me, Valeterisa. I said, once, to His Majesty of Reim that I regretted two things.”

“Which were?”

“Firstly, that we had never been great friends. For I admired your magic at Fissival, and determination, and I felt I had underestimated you.”

“Thank you. I…appreciate the sentiments greatly. I have always admired your talents myself.”

Amerys nodded. Her eyes shone brighter.

“Secondly, Valeterisa? I regretted that we had never been enemies. We are all but peerless. We exist at the height of our levels, except for the strange old monsters like the Archmage of Memories. Too low to be called true myths, too legendary to continue climbing. But my class tells me—if we battle, I level. So.”

She flicked her hand up, and she was holding a wand whose length crackled with blue lightning, and red and green and—Valeterisa’s eyes went round. Archmage Amerys fired three bolts of lightning twining together at Valeterisa.

They twisted out of existence before touching the Archmage of Izril. Her barrier spells shuddered, overloading at diffusing that much mana. Valeterisa’s wand rose.

Amerys flickered—appeared behind Valeterisa. Her kick shattered a barrier, and Valeterisa—

—skipped over the waters like a stone—

Mind aflurry, tumbling. Had to put kinetic blockers on—

The Archmage of Lightning drop-kicked downwards, and a bolt of [Grand Lightning] drowned everything out. She turned, aiming.

Pop. Valeterisa’s [Rapid Teleport] made her appear in the air, and the trio of lightning bolts struck her. Didn’t diffuse; she reeled as her secondary barrier spells overloaded. Down to personal shields. She was gasping as Amerys spoke.

“They told me you bested Eldavin when he challenged every Archmage. Let’s see it.”

The Archmage of Izril stopped thinking of ways to make peace. She abandoned every thought not on survival or spellcraft. She aimed her wand and began firing spells nonstop as the duel began. All except for one little thought in the back of her head.

Oh no, oh no, oh no…I can’t beat her. Not her. 

But she couldn’t run. Amerys was too fast.

 

——

 

It was happening too fast. Even for him—both in the escalation and the conflict. This was not a Solstice event. This was something else, and it had the sharp tang of war to it.

This was…Flos Reimarch’s myth. The King of Destruction’s phenomena. If Erin’s was chaos, with levity and blades, this was far sharper. The unsheathed sword.

The air was filled with so many sounds and the light too blinding at first, so Relc Grasstongue focused. He was standing on the water as Montressa covered her eyes, her barrier spells absorbing stray particles of magic. But she was still a kid; perhaps Relc alone fully saw the first moments of the two Archmages’ duel.

He still didn’t understand what he was seeing, not the magical nuance of it. His eyes only tracked the two women, not the unseen spellcasting. But what was visible was enough.

Relc had never encountered anyone as fast as Amerys. Not even Zeladona had been that fast—not that she’d needed to be or been pushed. This woman?

He was the Gecko of Liscor, but his [Lightning Run] seemed like a joke of a Skill compared to her movements. Each step carried her dozens or even up to a hundred feet in the air. It was something beyond [Flash Step]; she could move about the skies in jolts of lightning and reposition around her opponent with ease.

He couldn’t imagine outrunning or catching her; she danced in a sphere around her target, Valeterisa. When a flurry of magical arrows came her way, she’d just step aside or swerve under the spells. Dodging.

Valeterisa was blocking, the far harder task. When they talked about magic and she explained things to him, or tried, he always brought it back to things he knew, like a fistfight. Easier and less painful to dodge than block, right? She had said he was ‘reductive’, but accurate. Every spell you had to absorb with your barriers took mana—and she was doing that now.

Not that Valeterisa wasn’t mobile; she was flying in an erratic pattern, surging upwards, diving, even dodging as well, trying to throw Amerys off. However—her [Fast Levitation] wasn’t at all comparable to Amerys’ speed. He saw floating shields like a [Knight]’s heater shield, made of green magic, circling her under a bubble-barrier and magical armor; layers upon layers of magic.

Each time Amerys threw a bolt of lightning, one of those layers vanished, and Valeterisa had to replenish it. She was trying every technique she had to diffuse the magic. Barriers were a game of sword-scroll-rock according to her. Each one worked differently. He assumed she was casting [Lightning Ward], but it wasn’t…working.

As he watched, Valeterisa dove, and he saw eight different Tier 4 spells shooting outwards from her wand. [Double Fast Fireball], [Ice Spike Spray], [Invisible Silent Sickle]—Relc could see their outlines in the rain—[Shattering Stone Lance]—

Each one an upgrade on regular spells. Only one was aimed at Amerys; the others were fired in a pattern around Amerys as she twisted, trying to catch the Archmage of Lightning where she appeared.

Amerys dodged the two [Fireballs], stepping down into a place where the [Stone Lance] spell exploded, showering her with deadly [Stone D—

—She was already a dozen feet back and threw a [Lightning Bolt] as the [Stone Darts] hit the water. The bolt of lightning struck one of the glowing knight-shields and bounced.

“Deflection! She’s doing it! Master, [Lightning Ward] your barriers! All of them!”

Montressa was screaming, hands cupped to her mouth. Relc doubted Valeterisa could hear; the Archmage of Izril whirled, saw Amerys tilting her head, and fired a [Spear of Light]. Then cast around, anticipating Amerys’ next move…

The Archmage of Chandrar dipped slightly, and the [Spear of Light] passed just over her head. She caught Valeterisa looking the other way and pointed her wand.

Blue lightning. Valeterisa’s knight-shield spell exploded, and Montressa stopped yelling in horror.

“That’s a dual-element spell.”

Of course. Relc tensed as he saw Valeterisa doing a loop, firing more spells that Amerys flicked out of the way of. If you were known as the Lightning Magus, then everyone would use that trick on you. That explained why Amerys’ lightning changed colors. She was cycling the spell types. Or just—

He saw her dive into the waters, or seem to. Illusion. Valeterisa pointed down, and he shouted.

“Valley! Above you!”

Whether she heard or not, Valeterisa’s head snapped up too late. She saw Amerys taking aim—

Whatever hit Valeterisa, it wasn’t [Grand Lightning].

Relc knew that because one of Montressa’s [Arcane Barrier] layers imploded from the shockwave. He staggered and saw Valeterisa falling. She caught herself in the air, woozy. Then he heard her speaking.

“[—Whiteflame Jet], [Thresk’s Steel Warspears], [Tidal Wave], [Firestorm], [Windstorm of Karaz], [Expand Spell]—”

She was casting faster than he’d ever seen. Area of attack spells—winds howled upwards as a sandy veil enshrouded her. It met flames raining down, and the two storms met in the air as the waters rose. Steel spears and white-hot fire flashed out of the defensive storm.

The Archmage of Chandrar laughed as she halted out of range of the amalgamation of magic. She didn’t try to push her advantage; she just readjusted her grip on her wand, murmuring.

“[Bind Spell: Forked Grand Lightning]. [Bind Spell: Greater Dispel]…”

She was breathing deeply, in and out. Not good; not at all. She had the same atmosphere about her that Relc was familiar with. Like a [Veteran Soldier] would do, like he did, she was waiting between bouts, gathering her breath, even with the battle right in front of her. The flashing spells from within the storm told Relc that Valeterisa was still casting defensively, assuming she was being attacked. Trying to buy time to reset.

Everything about Amerys was familiar to Relc. They were no way on the same level, but he recognized her patterns. She was a speed attacker. Like him. All her spells were long-ranged bolts of lightning; she didn’t alternate spells. She didn’t need to.

She just needed to hit someone hard enough, and they were dead. Now, she raised a hand, and he knew she was going for a big one.

“[Bind Spell: Thunderbolt of the Lightning Giant].”

That one wasn’t instantaneous. He saw lightning trickling downwards from the clouds and forming over her head as it wrapped down one arm. Montressa moaned.

“That’s not…that’s Tier 6 magic! She can bind that?”

Relc had never seen that spell cast by a single [Mage]. He’d seen a Tier 6 spell go off in war once. It had blown a hole through nine ranks of Antinium during the Second Antinium Wars. And she was binding it; she’d be able to throw it in a second once it was done. His teeth gritted.

This is a legend of the King of Destruction. One of his Seven. It would be suicide to get between her and Valley. Can Valeterisa match her? 

He pictured the silly, sometimes befuddled woman blinking over her cup of tea. Then flashed to the Archmage lifting Fissival overhead. Which one…?

Amerys pivoted, breaking away from binding the Tier 6 spell. She swatted something out of the air.

“This is a mage’s duel, Drake. I don’t feel like killing you. You aren’t at our level. I’ll ignore that once.”

Relc had thrown one of his blacksmith’s puzzles at her. He was outside of Montressa’s barrier spells. She froze.

“Relc? Don’t—”

“Valeterisa doesn’t want to duel you. Back down, Archmage. You’re in Liscor’s territory.”

The response amused Amerys. She floated back as Relc lifted the spear that had killed more [Mages] than he could count. The whirling storm of magic subsided, and Valeterisa reappeared, barrier spells doubled. She froze when she saw the Drake standing on the waters.

“Relc?”

But for her [Waterwalking] magic, Relc couldn’t even face Amerys. He knew that. Even so, the [Spearmaster] set himself. Amerys tilted her head.

“Liscor. Now that is funny. King Perric of Medain hasn’t the stones to threaten me with his nation’s sovereignty. Are you Liscor’s champion…what is your name, paramour?”

“It’s Relc. I’m a Senior Guardsman. Fly off before I arrest you.”

Wow, he was as stupid as everyone said he was. The Gecko saw Amerys’ lips quirk. She pointed her wand at Valeterisa.

—He saw her other hand point a finger at him—

The [Lightning Bolt] was fast. Relc’s spear blocked it, and he felt the jolt run down his legs into the water. It still hurt, but the magic diffused as his spear whirled.

Faster than Valeterisa’s [Lightning Bolts]. Way more powerful. Valeterisa had never fired them trying to kill him. The Drake swore. Amerys’ head turned.

“Oho. You are a [Spearmaster]. And that spear…anti-magic tip. Mage-killer.”

“I’m warning you. [Officer Headhunter Mode].”

He sank into a killing stance, ready to dash. But—she was so high up. He could throw his spear, but even if he called it back, that would leave him exposed, and she was so damn fast. How the hell did he hit her? He wasn’t even sure his Skill would work on her.

“Relc! Get away!”

Valeterisa shouted. She was flying towards them, and Amerys pointed a finger at Relc, her wand at Valeterisa.

“Let’s see how fast you are, [Spearmaster]. [Lightningbolt Volley].”

She started blasting spells at him and Valeterisa. Vanished—shot another [Lightning Bolt] down from sixty feet up, twenty feet to the right of where she’d been, pivoted, fired two more [Lightning Bolts] at him, unleashed her bound [Grand Lightning] at Valeterisa—

The Gecko of Liscor parried the first four [Lightning Bolts] faster than he’d ever moved in his life. His spear was whirling in a defensive pattern. He pivoted, and the waters shook underfoot as the diagonal one made him stumble. He didn’t know this terrain. Turn! T—

The fifth one hit him. The [Spearmaster]’s anti-magic spear sang, a high-pitched keening of its enchantments deflecting the lightning bolt as he slashed away from his chest. Diffusing the spell before it could fully electrocute him. The butt of the spear blocked the sixth bolt. But the impact still tossed him across the water.

He rolled to his feet, head ringing. A huge scorch-mark was on his chest. His bare chest; he didn’t even have armor on, just clothes Valeterisa had bought him.

Good…it wouldn’t stop lightning anyways. I’m barely fast enough.

His arms were trembling from the electricity. He gripped his spear tighter, and it was still shrilling from that much magic. He’d only heard it do that twice.

“Valeterisa?”

A geyser of water and flames. Then a spark of fleeing lightning. The Archmage of Izril was bombing the area with spells as Amerys backed off. But the flicker changed-course—she was back, just out of reach, thirty feet up.

He still jumped and slashed. He had to try—

She backed up a dozen feet as he landed. Fired a seventh lightning bolt. He blocked it, but it knocked him to the ‘ground’, and he skidded on the water.

“You are good. But she didn’t make that spear for you. I’ve seen the like before.”

What did that—? Amerys pointed at him, and her other finger crossed her chest.

“[Fourfold Arcane Barrier]. [Empowered Spell: Dragonling Spark Dance].”

He’d never heard of that one before! Relc’s spear spun as Amerys conjured a barrier; Valeterisa’s magical spells began to slam into it as miniature little jolts of lightning that looked like they had the silhouettes of Dragons fired from her wand.

One dozen, two dozen—he lost track as his spear whirled.

[Defensive Whirl]! [Spear Flurry]—[Whirlwind Dodge]—

He began stabbing the lightning bolts, then dodged away, but they followed. The Drake was dancing backwards, spear shaking in his clawed hands, untouched for a moment.

His spear was shaking?

It was vibrating, he realized. Thrumming, and that keening sound was too loud. He gazed up as Amerys’ spell ended. She pointed.

“[Burning Lightning].”

Flames burst over her shields, and she cursed. Vanished. He raised his spear and blocked the bolt of red lightning—

 

——

 

“Relc? Relc!”

The Drake rolled up. His scales were on fire. But it was just flames. He gasped; Montressa was standing over him, hands raised.

“My spear—”

It had exploded. His mind caught up with his memories as the Drake looked around. The explosion had hurled him into the waters; it had deactivated his [Waterwalking] spell. Montressa had pulled him up.

Bag of holding? Gone. A charm Valeterisa had made for him? Fallen to pieces. His spear’s enchantment…the Archmage of Lightning had destroyed it.

Relc was still holding part of the shaft. He gazed at the spear that had been with him ever since he’d made [Sergeant]. Then he let go of it.

“Valeterisa.”

 

——

 

Montressa had pulled Relc out of the water when she’d seen him fall in. She stood over him, reapplying her barriers as he stared skywards.

The clouds were lighting up. They’d taken their fight skywards, possibly because Valeterisa was trying to use the clouds as cover. Or because she’d feared endangering Relc and Montressa?

He saw lightning bolts shooting through the cloud—then coalescing. They flashed, and a figure fell. The bolts of lightning followed her down.

“She’s losing. W-we have to help!”

“I need another spear! Don’t fight, get to the inn!”

Relc shouted at Montressa. He began to run—she wavered, then pointed her staff upwards.

“[Hundredfold Arrows of Light]! [Seeker Orb]! [S-Siege Fireball]!”

Her own magical abilities were far greater than they had been at the Bloodfields! Even with her barriers up, she could fire spells through them! Relc raced away, and Montressa saw her spells shooting skywards…

They missed Amerys and Valeterisa by thousands of feet; the two were already fighting across the air far from her spells. Valeterisa was moving faster now, darting from spot to spot with some variant of [Flash Step]. But Amerys just kept hammering her with [Lightning Bolts].

She’s trying to tire Valeterisa out. There was a hard limit to how much mana Valeterisa had, and even with mana potions, she’d enter mana burn too fast at this rate. If they could just hit Amerys and force her to defend…Montressa tried again.

“[Tenfold Homing Speed Light Arrows]!”

She reduced the spell immensely to upgrade it. Only ten arrows appeared, but they shot towards Amerys with a velocity unmatched by her previous attack, and they twisted after her as she turned…

Then lost their target as Amerys zipped downwards. The arrows spun into the air, and one actually hit Valeterisa’s shields as the Archmage zoomed after Amerys. She didn’t even seem to notice; her face was locked in a grim mask of concentration.

No! How was she supposed to…? Montressa didn’t study duelling magic. Pisces might know, but unless you could catch Amerys with conventional spells, what was there?

Curse and hex magics? That requires getting a lock on her and overwhelming her protections. I can’t just [Remote Blind] her. Even homing spells are too slow. I’d need some kind of permanent lock on her…or an area-of-attack spell so big it catches her. Either fast, wide, or a trap—!

Wait, was that why Amerys was staying back from her master? She never got too close to Valeterisa, only firing pinpoint spells. Valeterisa might be throwing invisible spells around her, forcing Amerys to keep at range. Montressa couldn’t see them if so, and nor could she copy…

I have nothing that can catch her. No spell’s that fast. Except for…

Wait, there was one spell she’d seen used as a way to target foes. She couldn’t cast it and a homing spell, and even then, Amerys was moving so fast they’d barely catch up. But maybe…Montressa concentrated, and an entire minute passed as the fighting grew worse. Then she cast a single spell, her head aching with the complexity.

“[Valeterisa’s Complex Seeker Projectiles]!”

A ray of light shot from her staff’s tip and zig-zagged skywards. Unlike other spells, this was no [Mana Arrow] spell, but a tracer of light itself. Fast beyond belief—it also followed no straight line, but bounced in the air, seeking its target.

It flashed towards Amerys, and the Archmage of Lightning—

Dodged.

She twirled sideways, glancing down, and the [Seeker Projectile] zipped upwards, missing its target and entering the clouds. Montressa’s heart sank. But then she realized Amerys had dodged it. She looked down and pointed—

[Grand Lightning].

The bolt blew four layers of Montressa’s shields apart. She screamed and cowered, and Amerys shouted down with a magnified voice.

“Apprentices have no place in a war between masters. Begone or die.”

Montressa wanted to try again. She was shaking; her barriers were still more than half-full. But she heard a mental order from her master.

V: Montressa, fall back. Get Relc to safety.

Montressa used her [Apprentice] link to shout back silently.

Master! What about you?

She heard no response. Then she could only run as lightning began to strike her. She didn’t know how much of a fight Valeterisa was putting up; she only knew she couldn’t help, only hinder if Amerys used her as a target and Valeterisa had to protect her.

Only as Montressa ran did she realize she could see all the scrying spells in the air following Amerys and Valeterisa, a tangled web of magic that the two Archmages were blowing to bits, forcing people to recast the spells. She could see the magic.

She was getting better, just like Valeterisa had said. Montressa was crying. She stared upwards.

They were just watching.

 

——

 

This was a love story—but it was not the time.

Fifteen minutes before the Archmage’s duel began, Channel 1 News was playing a new segment.

I Hate Everything with Noass.

He was dressed up with a formal suit and tie, and the Drake glared into the camera-orb as the lights came on in his studio. He had a corkboard behind him with his target of the day on it.

“Welcome, gentlemen, ladies, to today’s topic: Liscor. I am sick of hearing about Liscor this, Liscor that. Yes, they’re having elections. Yes, there’s a magic door…so what? Everyone talks about the war in the High Passes, and you know what I think? That’s a Pallassian affair, not a ‘Liscorian’ one.”

Air quotes with his claws. He went on.

“We’ve covered rumors about a ‘Goblin King’ with Channel 2 news. Did it affect you? No. Were there [Dangersense] alarms? Yes. But where, in this entire affair, does Liscor matter? Not. At. All. You know what does matter?”

His fist hit the table.

“Pheislant! The Lighthouse Kingdom! Pheislant has a population thirty-three times larger than Liscor’s! It has an economy that produces more gold in a day than Liscor in a year! Why are we giving coverage to a single city more than a nation? And that’s one nation, and I’m Izrilian!”

He wasn’t even getting started. The Drake’s voice began to rise as he got into his gripes with Liscor. And it was everything from Acid Flies to Rock Crabs to their stupid roads—and when he got to the Antinium or their worse decisions, oh, that was when he’d be started.

Thirty minutes. Shouting. Life was strange. Noass had been on his Channel 1 news show with Sir Relz until a moment when he’d been caught insulting, well, everyone. They’d tried to keep him on air for a while. Business as usual. But public outcry and letters, tens of thousands of letters to the studio, had meant changes so that it was frequently just Sir Relz. Noass had become a [Reporter]. Disliked.

They’d even been discussing firing him. Until he’d asked for a segment. Decided if he was going to be hated, he’d go down swinging. The opposite had happened.

His new broadcast was controversial. People loved to write in. He read the best ones out on air. Being hated got you views, and that’s what Wistram liked. More views meant more attention. More views meant more sales of scrying orbs and more views of advertisements, which they ran every thirty minutes. More to come…and Noass’ segment was liked by many, despite the hate.

He had some popular segments.

Things I Hate: Taxes. 

Things I Hate: Humans. 

Things I Hate: Pineapples on pizza.

Things I Hate: Immigrants. 

Things I Hate: The King of Destruction.

Things I Hate: Crelers.

He had an endless list. Plenty of material. Someone asked him where he got it from. Noass’ off-the-cuff reply was keeping his eyes open for five seconds.

This was promising to be another great episode. But d’you know what Noass really hated?

He hated…being alone on this segment. True, he was popular. True, he was back, baby. But you know what he missed?

Sir Relz. What had happened to the good old days when it was just them, a scrying orb, and that door? When they were just…[Commentators]? The lights shone over him as he ranted, but he missed his friend.

That’s what he hated. But of course, he focused on Liscor—right until the door slammed open.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but—excuse me, breaking news!”

“—sewers. I—what’s the meaning of this!? Sir Relz?”

The nobleman was panting. His monocle was nearly popping off his face. He didn’t even have makeup on. But he ran forwards.

“Pull the set. We have a breaking news story. Noass, it’s the Archmage of Chandrar.”

He stood behind the desk, and Noass rose.

“Wh—Amerys? The Calm Flower of the Battlefield? Is she dead? Hurt?”

“She’s just crossed into Izril. Noass, she’s challenged Archmage Valeterisa. Do we have a scrying spell? I’m not ready—we’re live! Go, go!”

Relz shouted at the staff, and Noass grabbed his collar, adjusted it, brushed at his neck spines.

“Here, the chair—”

Someone brought another for him as Relz glanced around. A scrying image appeared of two women meeting in…

“The Floodplains of Liscor? Oh, come now!”

Noass groaned. Sir Relz was grabbing pieces of paper being handed to him by one of the staffers.

“Noass, this is just in—she appeared on Medain’s coast during a storm and used it to cross the ocean! [Sailors] reported seeing jagged lightning—that was this morning. Zeres signalled an alarm, but she was headed north so fast…”

Noass sat down.

“Ancestors. Sir Relz, this morning? How fast is that? She’s crossed half the continent and the ocean that fast? How many hours?”

“It can’t have been more than four.”

“Then we can do the math! Someone get me a map—that speed is—and we’re looking at Archmage Valeterisa, the Archmage of Izril. Famously part of the Terras faction of Wistram. Relz, is that what I think it is? Are we looking at…an Archmage’s Duel?”

They stared at each other, and Sir Relz’s mouth moved.

“One of the hallmarks of old magic? Famous for taking place between countless [Archmages], from Zelkyr to Valmira? Though I note that Zelkyr popularized duels by proxy with his Golems—”

“What could have started this, Sir Relz?”

“Noass, your guess is as good as mine. Oh, they’re talking, but we can’t hear anything. We have only scrying spells and are remote, but working on better angles. Noass, are they standing on the water?”

“Amerys looks to be floating. Archmage Valeterisa is just standing…who’s the Human and Drake?”

“That’s…her apprentice, Montressa du Valeross, and, I think, Relc Grasstongue, the Gecko of Liscor? Aren’t they dating?”

“Ancestors, are they?”

The two [Commentators]’ mouths never stopped moving. They were chattering on instinct, playing off each other, using their knowledge—which was fairly wide—as well as each other’s ignorances to inform the viewers what was going on in a natural style.

And oh, he was scrambling for commentary, he was stunned by the news, his suit was disordered, and the production staff were shuffling behind him as the broadcast went on, but Noass’ heart was leaping.

They were back, baby! This was what he lived for. Noass and Sir Relz. The duo of duos. The best of friends. He could see the other [Commentator] trying not to grin as they sat side-by-side.

Then, of course, the duel began, and they fell silent. The first volley of lightning and the way Valeterisa made the strands of magic just…vanish? Noass was trying to speak.

“I—that is magic on a level no [Mage] can match in this era, surely, Sir Relz. I can’t count how many spells we’re seeing fly!”

“That’s Tier 5 magic. [Grand Lightning] is Tier 5 magic. Ladies and gentlemen, I remind you that [Fireball], a destructive spell, is Tier 3. [Siege Fireball] is Tier 4, and we use that to bust down gates. This is Tier 5 magic—though I think it’s not as destructive as [Siege Fireball]?”

“Surely it has to be.”

Sir Relz was shaking his head, finger claws pressed to his temples. He knew magic.

“No, no…it’s on parity, but the speed is incomparable. How could anyone dodge…?”

Noass gazed at their mage in Archmage Valeterisa and whispered.

“She’s not dodging. She’s getting destroyed. Gentlemen, ladies, give it to the Archmage of Izril. She’s taken enough shots to kill a company of [Soldiers], and she’s still alive. But she’s not landing a hit on her foe. This is horrific. Someone get ready to cut the feed. Are we on a delay? We might see a murder live.”

“It’s not a murder if it’s a duel, Noass. Legally, it’s an unsanctioned death—oh, Ancestors! That Drake is mad!”

They’d just seen Relc trying to interfere. The two watched his spear being blown apart, and Noass murmured.

“I don’t understand it. He must have had some kind of anti-magic enchantment, but how did she destroy it?”

“Overloaded it? I, uh—and they’re in the clouds. That’s a bad move for someone fighting a [Lightning Mage], surely? Oh! She’s hit! She’s falling!”

Noass was shaking his head as Montressa fired some spells. He could commentate on that, but the rest? He turned to Sir Relz.

“Sir Relz, if I were the Archmage of Izril, I would be running—if I thought I could escape. I know we talk a bit down on our Human Archmage, but I’m hard-pressed to say anyone could beat that monstrous woman. Calm Flower of the Battlefield…it’s like watching a [Soldier] fight a child! She’s got no chance! Wistram, if you’re hearing this, save her—she’s about to die!”

He turned to the cameras, actually serious. And perhaps because this was the first time both [Commentators] actually couldn’t keep up with the action, or because it was incensing to hear Noass talk—he did have [Provocative Statement]—or maybe just because he couldn’t sit still, there was a response.

“INCORRECT.”

The voice was not a mere bellow. It went in one earhole and out the other, and both Drakes flinched. The [Cameraman] spun the camera on reflex and earned his first level of the day—Magus Grimalkin strode into the set.

“Sinew Magus! We’re broadcasting! What is the meaning of—”

Grimalkin thrust Sir Relz’s chair back and planted himself behind the desk. He towered over the two Drakes.

“It is a disservice bordering on criminality to malign this as a one-sided duel. You [Messaged] me for analysis. I am incapable of giving it at anything less than verbal speed here and now.”

Someone else entered after Grimalkin, who’d barged through the security without a second’s pause. Noass was affronted, outraged—he and Relz scooted left, and he stared at a woman with a bag on her head and a…yellow tracksuit? But his mouth kept moving, the treacherous thing.

“Er, gentlemen, ladies, we have Magus Grimalkin as a guest analyst. And some Human?”

She hesitated, but Grimalkin made space for her instantly, and Relz spoke slowly.

“Lady Pryde Ulta. Of House Ulta, I believe.”

“Yes, my co-founder of Grimalkin’s Training Gymnasium. [Magical Stool]. [Magical Chair]. Pryde?”

Grimalkin produced two seats. Noass blinked; could he do that? Then he was sitting, dominating the frame. His eyes on the scrying image.

“Amerys and Valeterisa. Two legends of our time. This is disastrous for magic no matter who loses. If one should kill the other—it is a disservice to call it a one-sided battle, Noass!”

He barked and the Drake spread his hands.

“Well, you tell me what I’m seeing! All I see is one whiffing the air while the other strikes her with [Lightning Bolts]!”

That was what the blur of action was showing. The Sinew Magus grunted.

“I have my own [Scrying] spell, but it’s chaotic. If only we were at the…we’d have a better view from Liscor’s walls. No time. I need more vision of the field!”

Lady Pryde Ulta spoke behind the hemp sack on her head, voice authoritative.

“[Cameraman], pull the scrying spell back by 50%. Direct another one at a ninety degree angle to the first for a horizontal image. Then create two more for close-ups on both angles.”

“Er, yes, that!”

Sir Relz was affronted as the crew leapt into action. Grimalkin nodded at Pryde as the images gave him a better view. He pointed.

“Thank you. Now…observe the two styles from Wistram’s Archmages. Amerys has never lost a formal duel, to my knowledge, since becoming a member of the King of Destruction’s Seven. But then, no one wishes to duel her. She is rapidly repositioning thanks to [Lightning Step]—if that is not the exact spell, I will call it that. She is firing [Lightning Bolts] to wear down Valeterisa’s shields and alternating elements to bypass any elemental resistance. A classic skirmishing tactic employed in three-dimensional space.”

“Yes, and the Archmage of Izril isn’t able to hit her! See?”

Noass pointed out angrily as Valeterisa shot a flurry of spells in every direction in what seemed like a desperate move before diving under a [Lightning Bolt]. Grimalkin’s lips moved.

“I’m counting…excuse me, [Speed].”

He touched his own chest.

“[Enhanced Flame Spray], [Caustic Acid Orb], [Firestorm]—these are a series of panic-casts. She’s certainly unprepared for this battle. But see! She’s cast [Field of Suppression] again, and she’s negated the spells coming her way!”

He indicated the lightning unmaking itself. Grimalkin spoke as Amerys flickered out of view.

“This is one of the spells where she clearly has the ability to negate Archmage Amerys’ magic except for a Tier 5+ spell or repeated bombardment. But who is losing more mana on the exchange? I would say Archmage Valeterisa, but if that is her best defense…she is in danger of losing her barriers. Whenever she casts an area-of-attack spell, she is warding off the Archmage of Lightning. If she is reduced down to zero shields, her body will be struck by the [Lightning Bolts].”

“Instant death.”

Lady Pryde commented, and Grimalkin nodded. Sir Relz was trying to find a moment to break in.

“So where’s this expertise you’re hinting at, Magus?”

He half-turned, glaring. Then stabbed a finger and roared.

“There!”

All three of his co-casters jumped. Valeterisa had blinked backwards and vanished into a cloud of magic. Pale scythe-blades were shooting out of it, and she sent sickles of pale light high and low before following up all the magic with magical [Light Arrows] that spun after Amerys.

Valeterisa caught a bolt of lightning on one shield, dove into the clouds, and Grimalkin spoke.

“I cannot even speak the spells fast enough to commentate. This is a chained combination of magic cast at a speed beyond belief! Reposition to cloud control spell and denial spells on the corners—and she predicted the rearward spell and countered with the correct barrier type! This is the height of modern Wistram dueling technique! Observe—she’s using the clouds for cover, and there are attack and trap spells woven inside. Archmage Amerys is hesitating to get closer, but this duel is stalemating without her willingness to commit.”

Indeed, Amerys’ move-and-zap strategy was yielding far fewer results than at the start. She seemed to make a choice and zipped in close. Grimalkin whispered.

“Ball lightning. She’s blown the cloud apart with pure force.”

“Doesn’t that imply it was useless?”

“The mana expenditure on Amerys’ side was far greater. This is feint and counterfeit, Noass. Occasionally, one just uses a move of great exertion to land a blow.”

Pryde nodded, speaking coolly.

“Like a flying kick. Risky, but it worked. Her instincts as a [Battlemage] are far better than Valeterisa’s. Grimalkin, is there a chance for Valeterisa?”

The Sinew Magus was whispering.

“Let’s see. Another cloud spell. She’s daring Amerys to blow it up. Which the Archmage of Lightning does! Only, she’s hurled the [Ball Lightning] this time—a trap! It’s exploded—the clouds are covering the area. She’s dodging between then—no! Remotely-fired [Light Arrows]! Those wouldn’t be a danger unless Amerys hits them at the speed she’s going! Delayed-action spellcasting, emplaced magical trap spells—”

 

——

 

“—personal cloaking magic, and she’s casting this while flying and within a ten second window! No matter where the Archmage of Lightning goes, she’s at risk of hitting a spell at speed, and they’re likely to have mass!”

“Meaning?”

Pisces Jealnet was half-shouting as he sat in the Court of Silks, and everyone, from his team to Queen Yisame, was listening. He half-turned to Yvlon.

“Mass means Amerys feels them at the relative speed she’s hitting. So if she uses that [Lightning Step], even a [Light Arrow] might hit her hard enough to break every bone in her body. Ceria, am I missing anything?”

He was keeping pace with Grimalkin. The half-Elf was fiddling with her circlet, nibbling on it as she spoke.

“Big spells. Neither one’s throwing down their biggest, though.”

It sounded inane compared to Pisces’ terminology, but the [Necromancer] nodded.

“Neither one is giving the other time. The only moment Amerys had was when Valeterisa was panic-casting and Relc saved her. Valeterisa can do this! Wait, see? She’s hovering.”

Everyone saw the Archmage of Chandrar halt in the pouring rain as the clouds closed in, eyes darting left, right. Magical arrows spinning through the air like traps. No sign of Valeterisa—

Then the Archmage of Izril fired a [Valmira’s Comet] spell straight out of a cloud. Pisces roared along with Grimalkin.

“Decoy!”

Amerys thought so too; she dodged the trio of lasers that shot from another cloud at her, but [Valeterisa’s Complex Seeker Projectiles] missed. She spun—the comet exploded into a trio of [Lightning Bolts]. At her! She dodged back into one of the clouds, and it detonated in a plume of ash and heat and—

 

——

 

Magus Grimalkin was on his feet, staring at the scrying orb. He whispered.

“That was one of the most elegant traps to catch an aerial [Mage] I have ever seen in my life. An attack pattern Archmage Valeterisa has used in duels, I am certain. I, genuinely, do not believe Archmage Amerys saw through the trap.”

Silence, a pause as the thunder stopped ringing. A weary shape was fleeing as a bolt of lightning cracked down from the heavens after her. Noass spoke.

“Then…how did Archmage Amerys dodge it, Magus?”

The Sinew Magus’ head turned as the camera zoomed in on his face. His voice was genuinely unsettled.

“Instinct and reflex. That is one of the world’s most experienced [Battlemages] to live. Archmage Valeterisa…”

He clenched his fists as he gazed at the scrying orb.

“She is a superior duelist. Far better than Archmage Feor. If you had showed me her spellcasting, I would have put her at the top of Wistram’s rankings. But Amerys is too fast. She’s going into close-quarters combat.”

“How is that worse?”

The Sinew Magus turned to Pryde as the streak of lightning caught Valeterisa as she fled past Liscor.

“She’s chaining a [Lightning Bolt] to her hands and feet. That’s a barrier-breaking technique. You press it against a magical field and pierce it at point-blank range. And the kinetic energy…”

The scrying spell was trying to follow them as a figure dropped from the skies. The bolt of lightning following her down had hit her six times.

 

——

 

“Is that everything?”

Archmage Amerys sounded…disappointed as she gazed down at the spiked cocoon shielding Valeterisa. Her opponent was healing; Amerys guessed she’d broken Valeterisa’s leg. Certainly, she’d pierced the barriers.

Valeterisa was fighting back fiercely, but it wasn’t at the level that Amerys expected. She side-stepped the nigh-indetectable bolt of magic aimed at her head. Drew back a fist.

“[Glacial Grand Lightning].”

The cocoon burst. Amerys hovered in the air as Valeterisa teleported. Turned—raised her wand and fired eight shots.

[Great Arrows of Lightning] crackled past Valeterisa, missing as she performed an impressive aerial roll. She could fly, unlike the other Archmages. Only Nailihuaile might have given her this much trouble…or perhaps Uenoix if she gave him time to cast and hide. Or Verdan in his prime?

Even so. Valeterisa’s hair whipped around her, and she was bleeding from a scalp wound. She shouted.

“The city!”

Amerys glanced over her shoulder; the arrows had hit Liscor’s walls. They hadn’t destroyed the enchanted stone, but they’d left a mark.

“What of it? The worst we’ll do is leave craters.”

“If it loses its magic, the waters will flood it!”

Amerys understood and eyed Liscor with amusement, realizing how the waters surrounded it.

“Ah, that sounds like a design flaw.”

“Then don’t—”

The Archmage of Izril was pointing to a place where their running battle would not endanger the walls. Amerys inspected her opponent. Then her eyes swept to the city, where the Drake had gone running towards. She put a callous smile on her face.

“If you want to save the city, stop me. [Thunderbolt of the Lightning Giant].”

She reached up, and the Tier 6 magic began coalescing. The Archmage of Izril realized that Amerys intended to hurl it at her with Liscor as the backdrop. If she dodged, the city’s walls—

A feint. Amerys had no intention of flooding that city. She just wanted to see if the other woman rose to the bait. She saw Valeterisa’s head whirl and readied her wand; she was casting the Tier 6 spell with her non-wand hand, a clear sign she wasn’t going to actually use the spell.

Now, what are you made of? 

The Archmage of Lightning didn’t expect Valeterisa to cast a [Burst of Air] spell behind herself. Nor for the other woman to charge at her, screaming spells.

Mad—

They actually collided. Amerys had a sword of lightning in her hands. She drove it into the barrier spells, tumbling. Magical fangs closed on her arm, and she ripped them free. Blew the spell away.

A shiv of ice as cold as Cenidau—a kick infused with lightning. Tumbling; Valeterisa hit the waters as she blasted Amerys with flames. The Archmage of Chandrar threw a quartet of lightning bolts and backed away, extinguishing the flames.

Blisters on her skin. Chilblains from the frost slash. She was grinning. Her opponent was hurt far more than she was, but so close—

Don’t let her come back up. Amerys pointed her wand down. No more games now. She whirled her wand upwards.

“[Tempest of Thunder].”

The air bulged as she compressed a sonic shockwave into a pinpoint. Aimed it down at the waters. With her free hand, she concentrated, sweating. This was difficult to free-cast.

[Bind Spell: Disintegration Ray].

One or the other. One, two, three—

She spun and pointed her wand. The [Tempest of Thunder] blew apart the stone hand before it swatted her out of the air. The [Disintegration Ray] shot down, and a figure leaned out of the way and dodged it.

“Who dares?”

She shot downwards, a lightning bolt flashing from her wand at the interloper who’d interrupted her casting. A second stone fist rose from the waters and swatted at her. Ridiculous! She dodged it, fired again.

The figure didn’t move. She saw the distant [Mage] raise a hand and block her second [Lightning Bolt]. Amerys’ eyes narrowed. She glanced into the waters where Valeterisa was regrouping.

Leapt up; the grass snatched for her as it roiled.

Green magic. That’s no [Druid]. The only [Green Mage] in this area is a Viceria Strongheart. He’s way too big. 

Dullahan War Walker? The Sinew Magus?

The world spun as she stepped a clockwise dance, firing [Lightning Bolts], which he blocked with his staff or hands. Closed in with a [Grand Lightning] spell with his name on it. Whomever he was. Then she saw his figure as he turned, his beard dripping with water, planted like the very hills.

Half-Giant? Her eyes widened.

I thought they were all dead on Izril. 

Now, they are.

[Inferno Grand Lightning]. She stepped past him in the air, aiming for his back. The Archmage of Chandrar took one step, and her body turned to lightning. Not fully; the electricity shot through the air in a moment, taking her to the place she desired.

She—

—slammed against the air, her arms and legs pinned against something. Where? She was in the wrong place. She saw him then, barely ten feet tall. Eyes glowing with more magic than all of the Nomads of the Sky combined. She couldn’t move. What—?

 

——

 

Lord Mireden punched Amerys into the ground and counted.

Nine ribs. He rubbed at his chest, wincing. She’d gotten him with a [Lightning Bolt] even when he’d caught her.

“Faster than I thought.”

She was already gone. He inspected the crater in the earth. Saw a trail of lightning flickering away. When she stopped, she had a healing potion in hand.

The [Stone Spear] spell was lazy and off-target. Never meant to actually hit her. The half-Giant fired one, then another, arcing them past her as she drank, clutching at her ribs. Then he beckoned with one hand.

Her eyes narrowed, and he saw her coming at him seriously. The half-Giant saw bolts of lightning arcing up and flashing at him. He whirled his cloak.

“[Dome of the Twisted Vine].”

Colorful vines blooming with flowers of red and black rose around him, forming a dome that absorbed the barrage. The half-Giant hummed to himself as his barrier shuddered and counted.

“…two…three…”

Now. He undid the spell and pivoted a hundred and sixty degrees counterclockwise. Right on target. He fired the [Hastened Spear of Light] before the trailers of electricity showed him where she was appearing.

Hit.

She twisted, screaming in fury, and fell—but she didn’t fall back. She came towards him, and Lord Moore raised his fist again.

[Hand of the Stone Giant]. That was the obvious spell that conjured massive blocks of earth and stone into a hand that could crush a foe or sweep aside enemies. The trick that caught her twice was the second spell.

[Create Element: Magnetized Iron]. A core of it in the palm of the prepared spell caught Amerys. Her lightning was still just…electricity. She slammed into place, and Moore closed the hand.

He began reinforcing the cage—then sensed her mana amplifying. Grunting, the half-Giant tried to squeeze the hand tighter, reinforce the seals. It should be locking her mana! It—

The spell exploded. The half-Giant shielded his face as the blowback of the spell rocked him. He swatted a piece of magical stone away from his head.

“Well, that’s unpleasant.”

That worked in the future, damn it. Had she somehow figured out what he was doing from the first time? Or was he just not the right level? The half-Giant grunted.

“The hard way it is.”

He waited as the water bulged upwards. The Archmage of Lightning emerged, no longer looking like the graceful dancer. Water dripped from her robes, and her hair was dishevelled. She locked eyes with him.

“Before I kill you, your name?”

He planted the staff cut from Oteslia’s tree and spoke.

“Lord Mireden Raithland. You threaten my city, Archmage of Lightning. I intend to punish you for it.”

The waters moved, and Archmage Valeterisa erupted upwards. She was encased in a swirling orb of magical chains and whirling air. Some kind of advanced defensive barrier. She seemed surprised not to be dragged upwards. When she saw him, her eyes widened. Lord Moore just nodded to her.

“Both of you. No one is above the law.”

“What? Lord M-Mireden, thank you for—”

He clapped his hands together, and the [Shockwave of Air] spell blew both Archmages into the water. The half-Giant swept his staff around, and an [Earthen Spire] carried him higher. He stepped off it onto a second one as his footrest exploded from below. Walking as he swung his staff left.

[Thornspray]—a Tier 1 spell magnified a hundredfold. It hit the Archmage of Chandrar, and she rose and whirled, firing a [Lightning Bolt] at him. He caught it and shook out his hand. As if it didn’t hurt like all hells.

“Mireden! [Dispel Illusions]! It’s me! Desist your attacks!”

Valeterisa rose from the waters, and the half-Giant felt bad, but she was a wide-open target. The [Hammer of the Mountain King] hit her back into the waters and produced a second shower of rain. He swept the hammer around, and it blocked another [Lightning Bolt]. Then the hammer’s face exploded outwards.

Another spray of [Stone Fist] spells this time, heavier and homing. One caught Archmage Amerys and visibly clipped her. Physical enchantments or not, he saw her shoulder pivot with the blow and knew it had hurt.

Valeterisa rose from the waters a third time with a six-layer shield on her. She was still confused; Amerys zipped backwards, charging up a spell. Lord Mireden felt all the scrying spells focus on him and smiled for the cameras.

He could not deny the ebullience was genuine. He was still a bit of a child. Still an adventurer.  His every nerve was straining, waiting for the next attack, but he spoke, voice booming.

“The law of Liscor applies to everyone! No one, not [Archmage] nor [Innkeeper], stands above it! Without the law, we are anarchy! I am Lord Mireden of Raithland. As a sworn member of Liscor’s Watch and citizen of Liscor, I demand you both surrender and cease your magical battle. Refuse and I will pull both of you from the skies.”

The effrontery. The gall. When Valeterisa realized he wasn’t here to help her, but blaming her for the battle, her gasping outrage and genuine hurt left her speechless.

Amerys’ reply was more concise.

[Thunderbolt of the Lightning Giant]. A spell of such magnitude it parted the very waters. Cast everything into stark relief, white and blackness—

Like the damned [Heroes] of his time. Lord Mireden gritted his teeth and planted his staff in front of the bolt he’d known was coming. He leaned forwards and parted the spell with his staff.

The flash of the Tier 6 spell spread across the Floodplains, twin snakes flashing from hilltop to hilltop, trying to ground itself, and then, against the convention laws of physics, rising upwards, streaking back towards the sky to magnetize the very clouds.

All of it in a single, eye-blinding flash of power. But the target of this spell had not moved. He had cut the spell in half with his staff. A single spell.

“[Blade of Adamantium].”

His entire body was moving slow. Half-paralyzed despite the [Greater Lightning Ward] and the [Damage Shield] he’d used. But Amerys didn’t know that. He saw, on her face, genuine alarm for a moment, and the half-Giant smiled.

He cracked his neck once.

“Is that all? My turn. You invoke my forebears lightly, Archmage. This is real lightning. [Thunderbolt of the Lightning Giant].”

He fired the same spell back in her face and watched the skies divide. She dodged it, and he doubted it did much damage; she was probably practically immune to most lightning spells. But it was enough to see her face. For them to see her face.

Movement from the side—Lord Mireden swung his staff, and a wave of water rose, forty feet high, and slammed Valeterisa down. She cried out, and he thundered.

“Surrender or face me, Archmages of Wistram! You are not the only [Mages] in this world. Nor the finest.”

He saw her rolling upright, surrounded by four layers of shields, and then there was ire in her eyes. And hurt. Mireden avoided her gaze, for he was guilty, but it must be done.

Valeterisa retaliated with a [Siege Fireball]. Since his [Blade of the Adamantium] hadn’t expired, he cut it in half, and the flames baked his clothing and skin dry. He replied with an oversized [Stone Fist] spell as Valeterisa darted back. She was staring at him, probably thinking he had some kind of ward spell up.

He did—but it was mostly just his skin.

A small part of the power of Giants. Lord Mireden heard a voice crackling down from the skies.

“Half-Giant.”

Ah, good. She was losing her temper. He smiled superiorly as Amerys shot down from the clouds and braced. She dodged wide of him this time, skimming over the waters, keeping away from the iron that could lock her down—she passed over a hill, and an [Earthen Spire] punched up, almost taking her out—Lord Moore grunted.

Archmage Valeterisa popped out of the waters, and the second [Siege Fireball] hit the half-Giant in the back. The roar of flames as the spell burst against his enchanted cloak and clothing was a symphony with the strikes of lightning Amerys called down on both.

The half-Giant turned, brushing magical fire off his shoulders. Amerys and Valeterisa eyed him. No barrier spells, they realized. Just a [Body of Mithril]. His features glinted metallically for a moment. The half-Giant said:

“Ow.”

 

——

 

It was a three-way battle, not a duel. Another tradition as old as the duels of magic was the potential for a third party to enter the fight. Backstabbing treachery or the gall to take on both parties.

But against two Archmages? Noass’ and Sir Relz’s mouths were open.

“Who—who is that? A half-Giant? I thought the last one had perished!”

Grimalkin of Pallass was just as stunned, but for different reasons than the Drakes. He, of course, recognized Lord Moore. But what was the man doing? He had stated he intended to lay low!

“That half-Giant is brave, but he’s made a mistake. I don’t care what level he is, he is against the two greatest [Mages] we have ever seen.”

Sir Relz asserted, and Grimalkin responded instinctively.

“Once again, incorrect! If there is anyone who can fight these two, it would be…him.”

“Inconceivable, Sinew Magus! Against one, nay, two Archmages? Who is that?”

Sir Relz spun in his chair, and Grimalkin shook his head, eyes on Lord Moore. He was conjuring earth magic to his defense. [Earthen Pillars], thorns, and the evergreen—it was a pure contrast against Amerys’ lightning magic. Archmage Valeterisa was the only generalist of the lot, throwing any spell she found worthy into the three-way fight. However, it seemed both she and Lord Moore were focusing on Amerys, who was now dodging constantly, pressed by both spellcasters.

“He can do it. He’s…”

Everyone watching leaned in, Sir Relz and Noass with their eyes wide, the audience’s. They saw the Sinew Magus hesitate, mouth open. Then he cast around.

“…er, name?”

He didn’t know the half-Giant’s name? Sir Relz and Noass turned, calling for the same. And the embarrassed Sinew Magus held his tongue, because he knew Lord Moore’s name—just not the one he was adopting.

It was Lady Pryde who snapped her fingers and leaned over.

“That is Lord Raithland. Lord Mireden Raithland, the uncle of Moore of the Halfseekers.”

“Right, of course. Thank you, Pryde.”

He nodded in relief at her, and Sir Relz sniffed. He glared at Lady Pryde, then looked at Grimalkin. The Sinew Magus ignored the stare.

“What is he thinking? He can’t take on both of them. They’re pressing the Archmage of Chandrar, but she’s…”

Even he could tell from afar: Amerys, the Calm Flower of the Battlefield, was losing her temper.

 

——

 

Magic duel. Magic duel.

Much would be said and picked apart afterwards. The battle would be picked apart and analyzed in classrooms, where [Mages] who had never seen combat would lecture students about how each [Mage] should have moved properly or made the correct decision in the microseconds of reaction and intuition between life and death.

The spellcasting, the analysis of their attack patterns and positioning, had one of the finest commentators in the world: Magus Grimalkin. Those who observed the battle, from House Shoel to the Blighted Kingdom’s battlemagi to Az’kerash, could find little fault in the Drake’s impromptu callouts and measure of the battle.

Yet all of it was meaningless. For those outsiders would never know what the three [Mages] saw in each other. Locked in mortal strife, their magics colliding, they beheld something far different. Each one was a different kind of [Mage], and they could not outmatch the other two in the first frenzied minutes of combat.

Amerys, the challenging predator, swept across the Floodplains in the air, never-ceasing her movements, each action deliberate and deadly. Like some kind of wren or strange bird in truth.

Her wings were lightning, and her steps resembled that of a dancer; a deadly bird who struck and struck again, but found her first true opponent in the half-Giant.

If she was the everfleet, uncatchable advent of storms, he resembled one of the creatures of the Floodplains. A stubborn Rock Crab, perhaps, hiding behind a shell. Immovable; he did not fly and would merely scuttle from hill to hill when he needed to. But where the other two dodged, he would endure.

His hand alone blocked their magic, and his magic seemed lumbering and cumbersome at times, but each blow might be deadly if only it landed. Whenever they dodged too lightly, a spray of needles piercing their barriers would remind them that flightless though he was, he could easily bring them down.

And how were you supposed to bring him down? They tried, striking him with Tier 4 spells, Tier 5, but he allowed no greater magic. Each time a spell touched him, they felt it.

Like fighting a hill itself. They barely chipped his body, let alone his resolve. The two swooping Archmages were loath to close with him…and his presence made this three-way battle a stalemate. Attack one foe and the other would have your back.

But, then, if Archmage Amerys was the bird of lightning and Lord Moore the wrath of hills hurling stones at the sky, what was Archmage Valeterisa? The Archmage of Izril, who was neither [Green Mage] nor [Lightning Mage]?

She was…a hermit crab, maybe? Or a flying rolly-polly?

It was hard to say. The other two were beings of dedicated magic. Amerys was the focused culmination of battle-magic. Lord Moore a combination of both his class as [Lord] and his nature as well as his green magic; an unshiftable warrior skilled in might as well as spellcraft.

But what was Valeterisa? They saw it between her spells that undid their magic. The elegant [Scholar]’s spells that unmade one of Lord Raithland’s hands of stone, that parried a [Lightning Bolt] with a mirror.

Here was someone who loved magic itself. Who had studied so many avenues and means of it she was no one thing, like them. It was rare to find someone who did not specialize in a single idea at their level.

If she was any one thing, Valeterisa was like…a multi-headed edifice, some artificial building built higglety-pigglety, going in strange directions where its creator had gotten side-tracked. Or, if she was like a hermit crab, some kind of hoarder of knowledge. Shelled; her barriers protecting her, but ungainly with it.

A hermit crab with a knife, to be fair; her spells had the sharp edge of someone able and willing to kill, but she was not the same as them. Yet she was exchanging battle with the two, a brave crab waving its knife at a hill that walked and thunder’s wings sent from Reim.

Just one thing, though. Lord Mireden paused, breathing raggedly as his shards of iron-infused arrows tore the air, collecting Amerys’ lightning and forcing the Archmage of Lightning into ever-more-convoluted dodges.

She was no longer unwounded; Valeterisa had realized the potential of earth-magic to counter the Archmage of Lightning. She and Mireden regarded each other warily as Amerys flickered back into the air, high into the sky.

Amerys’ teeth were bared, and she was grinding them together as she felt at the cuts on her cheeks. She clutched at the ribs that Lord Moore had broken, then nodded.

“I don’t know who you are, half-Giant. But you brawl like a hidden legend. I’ve met your kind before. There’s always a retired [Hero] or an old man with Torreb’s strength. Which tale is yours?”

“One not yet told. Will you surrender peaceably, Archmage?”

The half-Giant retorted, and Amerys chuckled. Her voice went gravelly, then deep.

“Surrender? Oh, you do annoy me. There’s nothing I hate more than superior [Mages]. We’re all of us such a ridiculous lot. None worse than hybrid caster-warriors like you.”

“I prefer caster-lord. I have noticed the Archmages of Wistram cannot take a punch. Two, in your case, I suspect. Would you care to prove me wrong?”

He was smiling up at her, needling the Archmage of Chandrar. She began to chuckle. Then giggle.

“Uh oh.”

Valeterisa had been floating backwards, hoping the two would forget her when she heard that familiar giggle. She remembered that. She began casting barrier spells as Lord Moore frowned.

“Something funny, Archmage Amerys?”

He didn’t know. However he had such knowledge of Amerys, enough to seemingly predict how she moved and counter her magic—he’d never heard her snap. Valeterisa had seen that happen twice.

First, the Archmage of Chandrar giggled. She grinned, blood running from the corners of her mouth, humbled and wounded. Then her eyes flashed, and she snapped. And went calm.

Everyone thought her title was a joke given her inability to keep her temper or control of her tongue. But like the Titan of Baleros, there was a truth to the name. Amerys exhaled, and the rumbling of thunder died down. She gazed up at the rain soaking the Floodplains, then she lifted her hands.

A tempo began to pulse in the background of noise. A strange, racing sound, like a heartbeat going too fast.

Lord Mireden hesitated as, above him, Amerys planted her feet in the air. She stopped floating like a dancer and stretched out one hand. The other dropped with her legs, lowering her center of gravity.

It looked like…a stance? Lord Moore wavered and glanced over his shoulder. Valeterisa was using him and his hill as cover. The half-Giant tugged at his beard as he held his staff warily.

“Is this dance-magic? You may have us in that. I have two left feet.”

His comment failed to elicit a flare of temper this time. The Archmage of Chandrar’s face was cool as she focused on him.

“No.”

The rain pattered down as Moore prepared another iron spell. He shifted, uneasy. He didn’t remember this from his memories of seeing her fight.

“What do you call it then?”

The Archmage of Chandrar murmured as she closed her eyes.

“Pomle.”

The half-Giant’s eyes widened. He raised his staff. Falling Giants, not—

She kicked him. He even saw it coming, albeit so fast he was still tracking her as she shot straight down and flashed over the waters. Her kick went under his quarterstaff, and the half-Giant felt the most novel of sensations.

He flew.

—Landed, ribs singing how much that hurt, coughing, and lashed out with his staff. She wasn’t in front of him. She’d gone around—

“Ulp!”

Valeterisa hit the waters as Amerys pivoted. She threw a punch—then danced back before his quarterstaff could land.

Feinted? Or had she seen the blow? He couldn’t tell. She spun one leg out in a circle, hopped—

He blocked this kick, and his boots skidded in the mud. The force! The Archmage of Lightning hopped backwards. His staff struck high-low, but caught only wisps of lightning. She was standing on another hill.

“Moore. Lord Moore—”

Lord Moore was no longer smiling. He spoke, as Valeterisa rose, panting.

“Raithland. Truce, Valeterisa?”

“Truce. She’s casting something big.”

They both felt it. The half-Giant murmured.

“Then it’s time for a capstone Skill. [Aspect of the Stone Giant].”

He did not grow in size. Nor did the magic swirling around him intensify. His skin just turned to stone. Amerys tilted her head.

“Strange. [Disintegration Ray]. Ah.”

She pointed a finger at him, and Lord Mireden Raithland didn’t move. The spell touched his cheek, and the tiniest pock-mark of stone vanished. His voice rumbled as Valeterisa stared at him, then floated backwards.

“Try again.”

Her answer was a smile. Valeterisa pointed her wand.

“[Arcane Disjunction]!”

She tried to halt whatever Amerys was doing, but the ray just…missed. The woman reappeared in the air, and Lord Moore swore under his breath despite his Skill as he felt the entire Floodplains around them take on a charge.

He gazed down, and the half-Giant wearing the face of his forebears saw a little creature fluttering upwards. A…butterfly, perhaps. If one could be made of electricity. It lit on a blade of grass, turning the sodden plant matter black, and it was one of thousands of little insects made of sparks. Valeterisa twisted around.

“Oh no. She’s—I’ve heard of this.”

The half-Giant spoke as Amerys exhaled.

“[Battlefield: Fields of Blooming Lightning]. The books said it looks like flowers blooming.”

He eyed the static discharges of lightning dancing over the water.

“It’s more abstract than I thought. Be careful. She can appear anywhere in this field. And she’s using physical attacks. I will counter her.”

He trusted to his Level 50 Skill that he had earned from slaying the Mother of Graves. The Archmage of Chandrar was smiling down at him.

She appeared behind him without so much as a flicker. Thunder boomed off his back, and he felt the stabs of pain faintly. How hard were the blows—?

[Staff Art: Storm of Lances]. One blow clipped her, and she staggered, but her odd swaying dodges were quick. Valeterisa shot flames at Amerys, cutting off her retreat, but she just…vanished.

Lightning—she drop-kicked Valeterisa from above, and the half-Giant pointed his staff at the hostile Archmage. She was gone before he could even unleash—then she was under him.

Palm strike.

He heard the cracks of his transmuted skin and grunted. He just had to grab her! Grab her and not let go and—

His fingers closed on sparks. He whirled.

Skill. His staff rose. [Twenty-Foot Sweep]. [Swift Strike]. And [Wall of Metal: Iron]. Lock her down and hit her.

He conjured the wall of metal and put his back to it, disguising the metal to look like rocks. He didn’t care if she realized it was a trap. Either she switched to magic again or she came at him.

The half-Giant saw Amerys appear on a hilltop. She tilted her head at him and nodded. He tensed; now. He was prepared to barely see her coming. But he wasn’t prepared for her to speak.

“[Overdrive: The Marionette’s Rebellion].”

Oh no. He felt that familiar sensation he’d observed so many times. A crawl across his skin—not of unease, but of time itself warping.

Something being unleashed. A box opening. And he saw the Archmage hanging in the air for a moment. Arms suspended. Like a puppet hanging from invisible strings.

Or a woman in chains.

Weapon art. He had t—

Another skill was on his lips and he was lifting his staff when Amerys—flickered. The green-haired woman, suspended in the air, vanished. Appeared before him.

Mireden took the first four blows to his chest before he realized she was there. Another seven as his arms bulged and he swung the staff. He never roared any words; they were choked with pain and the impacts punching the very air from his lungs.

Lord Mireden swung his staff desperately, but her combination of blows and punches was a Skill. An art; she swung under the staff before lashing out, a rhythm of strikes and kicks to every part of his body she could reach. She hung in the air, striking his chin with repeated kicks until, with a roar, he finally clubbed her.

She wasn’t dodging. But despite the desperate blow, she merely—rotated, twisting, limbs askew, as if he’d hit that puppet. Then she twisted her head around. Turned towards the second target.

Valeterisa’s barriers exploded so fast the shockwaves hit Mireden as he staggered. Then Valeterisa slammed into his side. He tasted his blood. But how…?

His [Aspect of the Stone Giant] had deactivated.

That can’t have been five minutes. Did I pass the damage threshold? He tried to breathe, and his ribs creaked. His skin was punctured. She’d broken a rib, and the bone was protruding through his skin.

Amerys’ jerking movements came to a halt as the half-Giant raised a wall of stone to shield the two of them. The Skill ended. Mireden’s back was still against the far wall of the dome, and Valeterisa was drinking a healing potion. Eyes wide.

This insane—

Amerys’ voice came from beyond the wall, husky. As if the Skill had done some damage to her, if only mental. A skill made out of her experiences.

Suffering—the insane wave of attacks from someone who had been unable to move, unable to so much as twitch for months, over a year.

Those fools at Wistram had just made her even more deadly.

“I’ve always thought it was funny. Every [Mage] I’ve ever met trusts to magic. So few of them have an attack Skill except hybrids. As if we can’t invent our own.”

“Well…”

The half-Giant rasped, but he had no more smart replies. Valeterisa tried to get up, then clutched at her stomach. She nearly puked before halting it with a spell. There was a crack-thwoom of magic; Amerys had either kicked the wall or hit it with magic. Lord Moore raised the walls and encircled them until a dome of stone was protecting them. He sealed it with iron and then grabbed a healing potion and drank it.

“I knew that was coming…but not the attack Skill. I thought—with ten years, she was within reach! What a monster.”

No wonder she was undefeated in her time. Valeterisa was leaning on one of his legs; she looked worse than he felt by far. She’d had to battle Amerys alone until he’d stepped in. Dizzy and sick; she must be nearing mana burn. The Archmage of Izril’s eyes narrowed. She adjusted her cracked spectacles and stared up at him. Then recoiled.

“You orchestrated this?”

The half-Giant winced as a rib snapped back into place. Their shelter shook again as Ameys hit it.

“It’s nothing personal. It just seemed to be the most convenient option. For the election.”

She was staring at him, open-mouthed, as if she hadn’t also manipulated events for personal gain. Although—the half-Giant glanced up.

He’d really thought it would be easier than this! They were all the same level! Two of them versus Amerys—she hadn’t even needed to call in backup! He turned to Valeterisa.

“I’ll buy time for you to use your highest-tier spells. We will discuss this later, Valeterisa. Valeterisa, she will try to kill us both. You’re a rational woman. D—”

 

——

 

Amerys was calmly firing [Grand Lightning] at the dome, waiting for an opening. She expected a unified counterattack.

Even in her ‘calm’ state, she didn’t expect the dome to explode from the inside. A huge chunk of earth landed behind Amerys in the water, and the half-Giant went tumbling out of the inside, covered in flames.

“Huh. That’s pretty funny.”

She was running out of mana, and she had only two potion’s worth left before she was in mana burn. Her kick took Valeterisa off her feet.

Time to finish this.

 

——

 

“Dead gods, she invented a combat art?”

Even Grimalkin had gone quiet after they’d seen Amerys unleashing one of her trump cards. That was the only thing Noass could really think to say.

That…

It was fair, in the sense that of course a [Warrior] who had a [Sword Art] was capable of feats on par with magic. He’d heard of people like Orjin of Pomle pulling the same stunt off. But letting Amerys invent a combat-Skill…it just seemed sort of like cheating!

“She is the Archmage of Lightning. The King of Destruction’s Seven. That is no idle boast. She was always thought to be the closest person to the [Archmage] class in Wistram. Lord Mireden and Archmage Valeterisa are supremely talented magi. But we are seeing the pinnacle of the Waning World.”

It was Magus Grimalkin who spoke as the fight reached its turning point. He never took his eyes off the scrying orb as Sir Relz whispered. His scales were white.

“No wonder she was able to battle Zeres to a standstill. W-what a monster. And there are, what, five more like her? I—I feel like I have been unfair in my commentary to Chandrarian nations. No wonder it takes an army to hold one of the Seven at bay! How can any nation hope to curtail the King of Reim? Countermeasures of some kind must be taken against her! She’s too powerful for this era!”

He was babbling. Grimalkin didn’t appear to hear Sir Relz, though. For his next words made no sense as a reply. Or perhaps they did, but only to himself and few others.

“Yes. She must be so lonely.”

Lady Pryde’s bagged head turned to him, and the two Drakes goggled mutely. Grimalkin’s eyes were locked on Amerys’ serene face.

“I wonder…yes, now I wonder how it must be to hold back an entire Skill and modality of fighting simply because no foe has forced it out of her. She did not do this in Wistram. She is supremely alone, even amongst the Seven. The only living spellcaster among them. But she is not alone, is she? I see it now. In Reim, she has the only peers in the world. In another nation, even one such as Pallass, she would be, what, one of two? Saliss and Chaldion and, perhaps, Pelt.”

He shook his head.

“Moreover, she has a [King] who is a peer, who does not fear her, as they once feared Perril Chandler. Yes. I wonder…does she associate with the other Seven? What do they do to relax? To have fun? Perhaps this, as much as Flos Reimarch’s charisma, is what drew them together.”

He was pontificating. As if this engagement nearing its end were but an idle scrap. Yet he was not oblivious. Lady Pryde touched Grimalkin’s arm. Or tried to; Sir Relz saw her doing it from behind the table, and his hand shot out.

He knocked Pryde’s hand down before it was visible on camera. They stared at each other, and she hesitated. Grimalkin didn’t notice the strange oddities behind him. He was just…nodding.

“Yes. That is an apt comparison. They said that when both were alive…it is speculated that the Archmage of Golems, Zelkyr, and the Archmage of Death were this level when they made their ill-fated attempt to slay the Demon King. It is speculated that for most of their lives, they were this level, and it has been argued Zelkyr never reached a higher capstone.”

Every eye turned to Grimalkin, and Noass croaked.

“What? What level?”

The Sinew Magus gave him a slow blink, as if Noass were an imbecile.

“Level 60, of course. It is possible they reached Level 70, especially Az’kerash, but this is the level she hangs upon. Or do you disagree, Noass?”

He nodded at the image of Amerys. The Sinew Magus locked eyes on the Archmage of Chandrar pursuing Valeterisa, who was fleeing. Back towards the inn.

“She is closer than not to that level. But not, I think, Level 60. Archmage Valeterisa and Lord Mireden are of parity with her, but she outlevels them in combat experience and levels, I suspect. See; Lord Mireden is leaping from hill to hill, but he cannot keep up with the other two. Valeterisa cannot best Archmage Amerys. I thought she could, but—”

He whirled.

“Torreb, the greatest [Warrior], was above Level 60. Mars is the only confirmed member of the King’s Seven who can boast of the same. To compare her to the other Seven is a laughable notion. Not all levels and classes are equal, regardless. This is a mere academic distinction. If I live, I will present my conclusions drawn from personal experience.”

He was trying to navigate around the tangle of chairs and the film equipment when Noass and Sir Relz realized what he meant. The Drakes gasped.

“You’re going to—Sinew Magus, you cannot! This is madness! You’re not Level 50!”

Relz’s jaws snapped shut since that was a military secret, but the Sinew Magus just turned back once.

“This is true.”

“Then—”

“Archmage Valeterisa is a friend, and Lord Mireden is one I hope to call friend. I must go.”

There was an echo in his voice that an Eye of Pallass, watching the broadcast, heard. The simple statement as the Sinew Magus squared his shoulders. Sir Relz shot to his feet.

“Stop him! We can’t lose—”

He tried to tackle Grimalkin and just slid down his torso. Noass was on his feet, and the film staff tried to stop the Sinew Magus. They hadn’t a chance; he just moved them aside gently but urgently.

Someone was hesitating. Not Grimalkin, but the woman who stood there, looking at the Archmage of Chandrar. Then the Drake resolved to fight or die. She reached out, and Sir Relz knocked her hand away again.

Again, Lady Pryde hesitated, uncharacteristically or characteristically if you truly knew her—like Lady Bethal and Lady Magnolia, who both still called her friend, even if the reverse was not true. But Pryde would always stand. So she did and took Grimalkin’s arm with a grip gentler than anyone else’s.

But he halted.

“Grimalkin. No. You cannot. You’re not prepared. You…don’t. Please, don’t.”

Her voice was husky, barely audible to the cameras. Sir Relz glanced at her as Grimalkin turned, and his normally-booming voice had gone silent. He swallowed, visibly, as he tried to say something to her, and the [Commentator] made his mistake. This time, he moved between the two and shoved Pryde back.

“Sinew Magus! May I ask who this—this Human [Lady] is to you? This is a Pallassian matter, not for outsiders!”

He glowered at Pryde as every eye in the studio swung to Grimalkin. And here, Noass opened his mouth, because he had realized something Sir Relz had not.

Peer pressure. Social pressure. The weight of the consequences of his actions.

What of it? It was mere weight to the Sinew Magus. His shrug of the shoulders was a lift and curl as he drew them back. He spoke with a clear voice as he placed a hand on Pryde’s shoulder and hugged her.

“Lady Pryde Ulta is the recipient of my affections and admirations, Sir Relz. She has every right to speak to me and ask me anything in the world.”

He paused. And Noass closed his eyes and sat back as Pallass, nay, Drakekind stared at Grimalkin, who was…the Sinew Magus rubbed at his chin.

“Hm. I realize I often dance around the truth. We are…dating. Which sounds too juvenile. We are romantic partners? I love her. And, ah. I do not want to lose her.”

He looked into her eyes then wavered as he glanced at the scrying orb. Noass reached over and slapped a magical rune.

The image of Grimalkin and Pryde holding each other’s hands shut off across the world. Commercials started playing on the news. The complaints began pouring in by the thousand the next minute. Half Drake, half Human.

But the Drake and Human that mattered didn’t move. He was bent over, gazing into her eyes; she refused to let him go, and his resolve wavered in that moment.

This was a love story.

But this was not the time.

 

——

 

There was something…righteous about the way it ended, Valeterisa thought. It was not fair, but it was. Even in magic, the stronger one dictated events.

It was savage, an antithetical system to the one she wished for. But it was the one that existed and had played out throughout history. And wasn’t it an honor?

It was her. Amerys. The being who they had all looked up to, for all her infamy. The [Mage] who was pride and power on the battlefield. The closest one to what they were supposed to be, but for Zelkyr.

Oh, she was beautiful as she descended, a strange wren made of lightning. She struck Valeterisa, and the Archmage of Izril cried out, but no one could help her.

Not the inn, not the distant Mireden trying to catch them, or the running Drake crying her name. Amerys was too close, darting around. Unassailable in her supremacy.

Tired…yes, that too. Valeterisa knew her opponent did not have forever to spend her energies, but like the veteran she was, she had calculated the point of no return, and she had not hit it yet. Now, she was doing what Valeterisa did.

Looting a random encounter. Or maybe a <Quest>. That was funny, ha-ha, just not right now.

<Heroic Quest — Beat the Archmage of Izril! (And possibly some half-Giant from the future.)>

It wasn’t a <Mythical Quest> she was pretty sure. Alas…

The stray thoughts jumbled together as Valeterisa hit the ground. She cried out. Her [Parallel Thoughts] were going nonstop. It was that or face the pain, the exhaustion, the burning mana in her veins.

Valeterisa-Movement: Body not working. Get up, get up—

Valeterisa-Analysis: Her positioning is superior. Without preparation, we cannot strike her. If we only had time to cast spells which could account for her magic.

Valeterisa-Bravery: Montressa and Relc made it out. Job done. Go out swinging.

Valeterisa-Cold: Overload your mana circuits. Take her with you.

Valeterisa-Emotions: I’m afraid. Maybe…

A blow scrambled everything. She was reaching for her wand, but the Archmage of Lightning was chaining her kicks and punches. No time for Valeterisa to mount a counteroffensive. She was…after her goal.

Then, the Archmage of Izril saw it. The belated realization as she wondered why that last round of blows that had destroyed her barrier hadn’t killed her. She was a limp ragdoll being tossed around, but Amerys had enough force to make Valeterisa literally explode with a kick.

Aside from not wishing to get her feet dirty, why prolong the risk? The answer was simple.

Amerys was a liar.

 

——

 

A [Message] spell came in as the Archmage of Chandrar concluded her hunt, circling her weakening opponent much like a predator in the wilds. She refused to lose concentration in this moment; this was where a mistake would cost her greatly. But if she made no mistakes, the outcome was clear.

Hence, the [Message]. There were hundreds who might try to contact Amerys in this moment; she would have ignored even the King of Destruction’s words, but not this one. It came from the inn, and Amerys’ eyes flickered as she swept past a desperate hail of light-shards coming from below.

Lyonette: You’ve won. We have a ballista, and Bird the Huntress does not miss. Nor does Elia. Kill her, and you won’t draw a second breath.

 

Many had threatened her. But this one she would have taken seriously…if it mattered. For Amerys had never intended to risk the inn’s wrath.

She wasn’t…targetting Valeterisa’s life. She was flitting around Valeterisa as the Archmage of Izril pivoted, trying to fly, kicking, slashing with a small blade made of lightning. At Valeterisa’s side. She even tried to grab—

“No!”

Valeterisa’s fingers sprayed deadly shards of crystal, and the Archmage of Lightning vanished, but she was on the attack again. Towards the only thing that mattered.

Valeterisa’s bag of holding. Her life’s work. Her notes, her spells…all collected in the one place that would always come with her. As Amerys had said, it was there.

So much was in Valeterisa’s head. But even she could not encompass it all. Now, like the hunting bird she was, Amerys had come for the true treasure. She was a thief! A dirty mugging thief, no wren or even magpie, but a swallow made of thunder and electricity!

“Nonono. Please…don’t—”

Valeterisa was holding the bag of holding in her hands. Trying to shield it with her body, forgetting it would be so much easier to kill her. But that was who she was. A [Mage] who loved magic.

The Archmage of Chandrar saw it all. Her eyes were locked on the bag of holding as she thrust a tiny object forwards, darted away as Valeterisa swept flames across the Floodplains at her. And Lord Moore had stopped chasing, perhaps considering this a small price to pay to avoid death.

The needle made of lightning was attached to a crackling string. Amerys yanked, and Valeterisa felt her bag of holding coming undone. The precious dimensional space she had enchanted herself wavered…and she felt it begin to disgorge its contents, the emergency failsafe to avoid wholesale destruction.

“Stop!”

She reached out, and the magic of the bag of holding wavered. For a second, she held the dimensional space together, and Amerys drew in a breath. But the Archmage of Izril’s control slipped—and then it began to spill.

An Archmage’s treasures began to fly upwards into the air and rain. Not what you thought: artifacts or precious reagents. Montressa had all that in her bag of holding or the Chest of Holding they used.

Valeterisa only kept what was most precious to her: paper. Enchanted scrolls of ancient vellum. Magical hide, scavenged pieces of faded writings. Re-copied notes on pieces of simple paper written with a neat clear hand.

Her notes. Her theorems. Her formulas, the magic she had yet to uncover, or things she thought she understood. Everything, oh, everything.

Not just thousands of pieces of paper. Tens of thousands…even more. Fluttering upwards, then falling in the rain. How much could you cram into a bag of holding made by an Archmage?

Valeterisa reached for it with a cry like her chest was splitting open. She tried to call them back to her—but there was a flicker of lightning. Pages vanished.

Amerys swooped around the wailing Archmage of Izril, collecting her notes. When Valeterisa tried to stop her, a blow to her chest sent her crashing into the waters. She reached up as she surfaced, trying to protect it.

Glowing magic written with such delicacy that no picture from any device could ever encompass it was floating down, ignoring the rain trying to bring the paper into the water where it would be lost forever.

The water had stopped falling. Gravity…Amerys had cast a gravity spell. She was darting around, picking the papers up, but there were more than she had dreamed of. Valeterisa’s lips moved.

My great work. Amerys was not just grabbing everything; she was targeting what she knew was the most valuable, what could not be copied because it was the language of spells itself, writ on paper.

Her notes on the lost magical art she had spent eight years of her life—no, decades pursuing. They were hanging in the air, a tapestry of glittering hope and despair.

Valeterisa couldn’t breathe. She was reaching up, forgetting she was an Archmage. Just a girl pleading for the Archmage to give her life’s work back. Eyes streaming with water trying in vain to memorize all she was losing.

So close. It was all so close. The future had said so. She had been given all the hints, had worked for years without sleep or rest, knowing the conclusion was there. Just unable to make that final leap of genius with all the pieces assembled.

Like a blacksmith’s puzzle, she had told Relc once. Only, the hardest in the world. Imagine a puzzle beyond complicated that you had to solve. But all in one move. And if you didn’t do it perfectly…you couldn’t understand it.

A part of her raged at Amerys. Take it, then, and be damned with it! But even that part was sobbing the wrath.

The worst part? The very worst was that there was so very little malice in Amerys’ eyes as she hovered there, collecting the notes. She could have killed Valeterisa, but she had never come for war.

I greatly admire you. I misjudged you. We could have been great friends. Greater enemies.

There was no true rage, just the heat of battle. No hatred. Just a strange desperation in Amerys. The desperation of one of the world’s greatest [Mages] who had seen the ceiling of her ambitions. Who saw Eldavin rising, the moon cracking, and knew she had to improve or die.

She was framed above the spiral of notes hovering in the air. In her, Valeterisa saw a door opened in that [Palace]. A place where the two might have been those things. A lifetime of regrets, of things she had not done.

Found Relc sooner.

Found Montressa sooner.

Been kinder.

Been wiser.

Done more for the people she loved.

Sacrificed less.

Saved more.

But she had sacrificed it all, all of it, always, for the thing she had told Montressa was worth it.

Magic. Magic alone. Now it was stolen. Hanging there.

It was not fair that you could steal that of all she had. Valeterisa’s eyes were wide, her glasses missing. Even Amerys halted, an expression of surprised guilt on her face. For the Archmage just lay in the waters, gazing upwards.

She could remember writing every word above her. Every symbol. Not…not consciously, but she had done it. The symphony of notes that no one but magic’s children could hear. The stairway to the future she had built out of nothing but thought.

Valeterisa had never seen it all like this. Never unspooled, exploded into the skies. A bubble of her thoughts surrounding her, presented in a way she had never thought of. Her grey eyes swam with tears, blurring the magic. Distorting it.

Clouds as lovely as the rains of Liscor, Relc had once said of her eyes, which had hurt her feelings until he clarified that was a compliment. Not very magical eyes, really, not like Amerys’. Just grey. Distant fog obscuring a realm beyond imagining. Like the mists of the secrets she had tried so long to unravel.

Amerys, meeting that gaze with effort, saw in the swirling vortex of Valeterisa’s irises the lines of magic coalescing, like an idea of ten thousand pages coming together to a single meaning.

Amerys, the Calm Flower of the Battlefield, hung there a moment like a bewitched predator seeing a hypnotic pattern. The lights flickered in Valeterisa’s tear-studded eyes, and then…Amerys saw the grey clouds part.

“What…?”

A ray of color she had no words for, the color of magic, shot from those eyes. Just a sliver of radiance that Amerys thought was her imagination. A hallucination. Then the eyes blinked…and the color brightened.

“Oh. Is that what it is? I wrote a circle around it.”

The faint voice from below was audible in the stilled rains. Amerys glanced around at the papers hanging there. Then down.

No.

It couldn’t be. The other woman was in denial. Valeterisa had hit her head too hard; snapped from the stress of losing…her eyes.

The sliver of magic called to Amerys. The Archmage of Lightning reached down.

“What…what do you see?”

She had never beheld that gaze among the living. Not even the image of Archmage Eldavin, that smug genius. Nor even in the rare records of Silvenia Ettertree’s eyes. Just once, Amerys remembered seeing that.

Just…once. In a picture of that Drake that someone had found before it had been confiscated by his last servant. That monstrous, arrogant fool who had still done the impossible. Archmage Zelkyr, the Drake who had rediscovered what was lost. Reinvented a truth of Golems, of magic.

The same eyes. Someone who had found it, not been taught or stolen it. Who had uncovered it by themselves.

Down, the Archmage of Chandrar reached, gasping, breathless, trying to steal something she knew was unattainable. Until she caught herself. Until those grey eyes glowing with magic’s insight focused on her.

Archmage Valeterisa Imarris tore her eyes away from the vision of magic that she beheld so…so casually. Because it was in her. Then, the woman floating on her back narrowed her gaze and focused on the woman who had brought battle to her. Who had tried to steal everything.

Amerys heard an alarm like [Dangersense] ring in her head.

“Uh oh.”

 

——

 

Montressa du Valeross was screaming her master’s name, trying to run towards her over the water, heedless of the danger. Only trying to protect her Master’s work.

She halted only when the Archmage of Chandrar stopped moving in the bubble of anti-gravity. When she suddenly, for no reason Montressa could see, darted upwards. Up—then Montressa clutched at her chest?

“Montressa? Speak to me, kid.”

Someone seized her shoulder, panting. But Montressa was—gasping. Tears were streaming from her eyes, but not of remorse.

“It can’t be.”

Suddenly, she was smiling. In disbelief. The [Apprentice] fell to her knees as the Archmage of Lightning took a fighting pose. Lightning crackled around her, and she conjured a shield of yellow electricity. The first she had called on—

The water exploded up in a geyser. It rained past Montressa, but it never touched the papers; they were encased in glowing bubbles of violet light. Montressa felt a [Message] spell reach her as a familiar figure flew upwards.

Apprentice, protect my papers. 

 

——

 

Valeterisa shot skywards, shedding water, magic surging in her veins. She was no less weary, no less battered than before, but she didn’t care.

She felt like Amerys, as if she had touched the root of something real. The foundation of…everything.

She spotted her opponent in the skies, and the bolts of lightning crackled towards her. Valeterisa’s thoughts scrambled.

 

Valeterisa-Shields: Barriers up! One, two, three—

 

The [Lightning Bolts] bounced, three different types, each one meeting a differently calibrated [Lightning Ward] spell. That was easy. So easy. But flying and fighting? Flying, fighting, calibrating spells?

It was so hard. Valeterisa never had time in a fight to do everything, even with a hundred [Parallel Thoughts]. She began to fire spells back.

 

Valeterisa-Manacheck: Out of mana. We’re burning on empty, Captain!

Valeterisa-Main: Don’t tell me the numbers. Get her! What spells do we have?

Valeterisa-Spellbook: Working…[Autocast] requires pre-prepared spells! We don’t have any ready! Use—use [Light Arrow]!

 

“[Light Arrows]!”

Valeterisa thrust her wand forwards and began firing [Light Arrows]. The most basic combat spell known to [Mages].

Amerys’ eyes widened as the spells flashed towards her. In an Archmage’s Duel? Had Valeterisa lost her mind? They came out in a spray, a hundred tiny comets, so negligible that Valeterisa could cast them all day. Each one hurt as hard as getting punched in the head—but the Archmage of Chandrar just drifted left a meter, and the leftwards edge of the spray of arrows passed her by.

 

Valeterisa-Analysis: Full miss on 173 arrows! We have no homing nor aim precise enough at this range!

Valeterisa-Sarcasm: No shit! Look, even she can’t believe it!

Valeterisa-Main: That…didn’t take any concentration.

 

It was true. Even for [Light Arrows], throwing one took the effort of shaping the spell in your head. Of course, even a lower-level [Mage] could work up to hundreds or even thousands with dedicated practice and Skills. It was a visualization exercise: keeping the images in your head—like imagining five apples spinning at once, in detail and color. Or even spinning in different directions all at once.

Valeterisa could do hundreds—but she hadn’t felt the concentration of casting any of these [Light Arrows]. She’d just…

[Autocast: Light Arrow]. And all her concentration was in making one regular [Light Arrow]. But she could keep firing them nonstop.

 

Valeterisa-Research: It works. Ancestors of Sky and Flame, it works! We’re doing it!

Valeterisa-Threats: She’s coming! Do something!

Valeterisa-Spellbook: Quick, apply [Spell: Homing] to the [Light Arrows]!

Valeterisa-Analysis: She’s just going to dodge them, she’s too quick!

Valeterisa-Sarcasm: Not if she’s marked! But how do we do that?

Valeterisa-Manacheck: We don’t have the mana for a hex…and we don’t need any! What about Milaw’s magic? Light rays don’t cost anything!

Valeterisa-Doubts: Can we cast the [Seeker] spell mid-combat?

Valeterisa-Spellbook: Yes! I know every part of that spell! I made it! Help me!

 

Her thoughts were all working at the speed of, well, thought. Everything Valeterisa knew about magic was unravelling. Was a spell just something you cast?

No! It was made out of component parts! And what if you had the building block, the tool to automate parts of magic?

Then you were like that thing Kevin kept rambling about. Or his bicycles. With one inciting lever, you began to do a hundred different things.

The Archmage of Izril took apart her spell and reconfigured it, automating the calculations. Archmage Amerys was circling her, not understanding what Valeterisa was doing. Her eyes narrowed.

 

Valeterisa-Threat: She’s coming at us. Are we ready!?

Valeterisa-Spellbook: Three…two…one…now!

 

She raised her wand and pointed it.

“[Valeterisa’s Lightning-Catchers]!”

The Archmage of Izril blinked; she hadn’t realized she’d renamed the spell until it came out of her mouth. But the rays that came shooting out in every direction were green flickers of light.

Familiar—Amerys paused. She began to zip backwards, searching for an opening to dive through, then realized—

The [Seeker Projectiles] kept coming out of Valeterisa’s wand. Not one or a dozen, but hundreds. Just rays of light, zig-zagging, searching for targets to report back on.

“Impossible.”

Amerys knew Valeterisa’s spell. Even a [Grand Mage] could barely cast forty without a day-long headache. Let alone sort the information that was coming back—

 

Valeterisa-Analysis: We’re getting too much feedback! Eliminate all inputs that don’t have magical residue!

Valeterisa-Sarcasm: Still too much! Sort by targets above a resistance level of—

 

The data deluge washed over Valeterisa’s mind, then faded away. Her mind was…clear. She wasn’t being overwhelmed by her own thoughts!

In fact, Valeterisa had time to actually watch Amerys waver, then try to dance a path through the storm of tracers.

Was that an expression of uncertainty? She began flicking from point to point, divining a path through the storm, like a single flower avoiding a storm of raindrops. Amerys burst out of the deluge of hundreds of tracers, panting, but teeth bared. She gazed up—and Valeterisa slowly raised her other hand.

“[Valeterisa’s Lightning-Catchers: Storm of Analysis].”

She dual-cast the spell, and a thousand tracers shot from her fingers and the wand. Then another thousand.

“That’s not fair—”

Amerys dove into the magic, dodging, whirling, trying to throw lightning bolts to diffuse the tracers. Then—Valeterisa felt it.

 

Valeterisa-Analysis: Target locked! We have her!

Valeterisa-Spellbook: [Autocast: Homing Spell]. [Autocast: Light Arrows]! [Autocast: Speed Spell]!

Valeterisa-Doubt: Don’t stop there! [Autocast: Diffuse Trajectory]! [Autocast: Invisible Spell] on every…6th arrow!

Valeterisa-Barrier: Altering the velocity of arrows on a 1-400% randomized scale! Are we ready?

Valeterisa-Main: Fire! Fire all spells!

 

She raised her hands and shouted.

“[Arrows…of…Light]!”

Around her, magical theorems flashed into being. The very spell matrices were moving, assembling, like some—some—factory of magic automating everything. Amerys gazed down at Valeterisa and finally saw what she’d done.

“Autocasting. You—”

Then the [Light Arrows] began shooting upwards. Like fireworks. They were different colors, sizes, and were coming at countless different velocities, some so slow they appeared to be orbs in the air, some arrows flickering towards Amerys.

Each one was homing. The Archmage of Chandrar tried to evade—a blow against her barriers made her twist.

They were invisible, too? She looked up as the cloud of spells followed her.

 

——

 

On the ground, Lord Moore’s mouth was open. He whispered as the skies lit up with Valeterisa’s magic.

“She did it. Not Montressa. She actually did it.”

He paused and thought about it.

“And I helped.”

A smile spread across his face, of disbelief and pride. He saw Archmage Amerys fleeing in the opposite direction and just trying to outrun the arrows pursuing her, because how was she supposed to dodge everything?

But the Archmage of Izril was chasing her. Lord Moore was about to shout at her to be careful—she only had one spell, albeit so many! Then he blinked.

Wait, was a cloud of those arrows splitting off? It was coming at—

“Ah.”

He began to raise his cloak as Valeterisa fired arrows at him—then tried to count how many were coming his way. The half-Giant spun and began to run, throwing up [Walls of Stone]. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the first one shaking nonstop—before [Light Arrows] punched through and kept coming.

“Hells—”

 

——

 

She had them on the run! Valeterisa stopped hammering the half-Giant after the first thousand or so arrows; he was a stationary target, shielding his face.

Amerys was still dodging. She was taking hits, but Valeterisa was finding tagging the Archmage of Lightning a real challenge.

You couldn’t even fire a swarm of homing [Light Arrows] at her; Amerys would just keep outrunning them. You had to fire the [Light Arrows] into the air, create a moving minefield of arrows in every direction for Amerys to run into, and even then she was blasting through them.

Valeterisa had never admired another [Mage] more. She had never wanted to hit another [Mage] more.

Revenge! She was generating higher-tier spells with [Autocast], but it was hard. If she had a day, more, she’d come up with a truly dangerous spell using this formula. Right now, she was pinning Amerys down with [Light Arrows] and—

“[Spear of Light Volley]!”

One of them hit Amerys and sent her plummeting. Valeterisa clenched a fist.

“Got her!”

The Archmage of Chandrar caught herself—then the [Light Arrows] began hammering her into the water. Geysers rose as the rest of the arrows followed her down, and Valeterisa made a note.

“Apprentice, write this down: autocasted magics very susceptible to flaws in system. The issues of [Parallel Thoughts] magnified. Automation of magic may lead to efficiencies in many ways. Idea: arm a [Shadow Familiar] with an autocast function? Like, say, [Cleanse]? Simplify cleaning…”

Master! Watch out!

A [Message] spell hit her, and Valeterisa blinked. While she’d been pontificating, Amerys had been in the water. But surely she was beaten. After all, Valeterisa…

She flew up, firing [Light Arrows] as fast as she could. And she saw a blur breaking through the storm. Coming straight at her.

“How—?”

It was Valeterisa’s turn to be stumped until she saw the crackling lightning shoot past her. Amerys was panting. Her hair was hovering around her—

And she was just charging through the [Light Arrows]. No counterspell, no elegant magical tricks. Her hands blurred as she shot at Valeterisa, and the Archmage of Izril saw Amerys punching a [Light Arrow] out of the air, her hands shrouded in lightning. She was just attacking so fast she cleared a hole in Valeterisa’s magic.

“Th—that’s not fair—”

“Valeterisa! Get down!”

She dove, firing frantically, more than just her autocast spells, towards Lord Moore. He threw a gigantic boulder at Amerys; she had to dodge around it. Valeterisa landed next to him. Smoke was still rising, and he was covered in soot marks, but he just pointed up.

“Unbelievable. She’s still ready to fight? Quick, show me how to [Autocast]. We can fight her back.”

“You don’t know the magic?”

She shouted at him, and he bellowed back.

“It’s complex and locked up at Wistram! Even the Blighted Kingdom didn’t know it! Hurry, she’s—”

They saw Amerys shoot down and hit the Floodplains of Liscor. She landed on the water in an instant—then the water heaved upwards. The shockwave of air hit them a moment later; a wave blasting both [Mages]. Then the waves of water crashed over the hills. Valeterisa stumbled.

“Oh dear. Was that a faster-than-sound—?”

Lord Mireden threw himself forwards. He stumbled—fell to one knee. Valeterisa gazed up, and Amerys’ foot was buried in one shoulder.

The sonic boom struck her less than a second later. The Archmage of Chandrar vanished as the half-Giant tried to grab her. She was a thousand feet away, and the sonic boom cracked across the Floodplains, creating another wave.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I think she broke my shoulder.”

He was gasping, blood drained from his face as he clutched at his shoulder. Valeterisa stared at him. She only broke his clavicle bone?

Instinctively, Valeterisa conjured more [Light Arrows] and made them stationary. If Amerys hit one of them at the speed she was going…but the Archmage of Chandrar just stood there a moment, panting for air. Studying her foe.

Now they saw each other. The hermit crab with her strange plans and machinations had made something that the hill of ancients and the fierce bird had never dreamed of. Just like a silly hermit crab was a silly foe until it started firing needles and [Light Arrows] from its shell…

The analogy fell apart. It didn’t matter. Amerys wasn’t done. Lord Moore and Valeterisa tensed, raising their wand and staff. Amerys vanished. Where—?

A flicker of lightning arcing up. She appeared with a Tier 6 spell in hand, ready to throw. Valeterisa raised her wand, eyes shining with magic’s truths.

Amerys was grinning. Blood and soot on her face. Both of them heard her voice.

“We would be such great enemies.”

The [Thunderbolt of the Storm Giant] pulsed in her hands, and she hurled it down towards the two [Mages]’ barriers.

It exploded halfway towards its target, and the shockwave kicked Amerys in the chest. She backflipped in the air before halting, surprised.

“Huh?”

That wasn’t a spell. Had Valeterisa put an invisible landmine in the air? Clever—then the Archmage of Chandrar twisted.

“—gods!”

The tip of the spear slashed across her ribs and would have laid open her flesh but for her robes. She dove, and the second spear nearly hit her—she blasted it with lightning and saw it shear through the lightning.

And her barriers?

The training spear hit the waters, and Amerys watched it fall like the water were but air. She turned. Then she saw the Drake standing on the hill. He was already drawing another spear back to throw.

Relc.

 

——

 

The Gecko of Liscor heaved, and the training spear from Liscor’s Watch House flew straight as an arrow. He was no [Javelineer], but he had practice. And [Recall Weapon: Spear].

It was no good on his destroyed spear, but he yanked one of the spears out of the water; it nearly hit Amerys as she dodged it and it boomeranged back.

“Relc! Get back!”

Valeterisa was screaming at him. The [Spearmaster] ignored her. He’d seen Amerys coming in for a second pass, and he hadn’t been able to join the fighting in the skies—but he thought he saw it.

Right there. He pivoted as Amerys vanished and threw. She appeared on a hilltop to the right of the one she’d been standing on, and he heard her swear as she had to throw herself out of the way of his spear again.

“Yes! I can do it!”

He pumped a fist, then grabbed another spear from the cluster he’d planted in the ground. He looked up and dodged as Lord Moore landed next to him.

“Relc, are you mad? Valeterisa, barriers!”

They were throwing up shields, and Relc panted at Valeterisa.

“I can’t let you get hurt—alone. Don’t worry, she’s tired, and I’m fresh! Sorry it took so long! I stole Tekshia’s spears. I couldn’t find enough!”

He felt guilty about that, but she’d let him have ‘em if he bought her more. Valeterisa was just shaking him.

“Relc, we can’t beat her! She’s inexhaustible! Even with my new magic—”

“‘Course she is. She’s just bluffing. I’ve seen it before. Every [Mage] always says that when they’re tired. ‘You’ve forced me to use my real power’. I nicked her. It proves she’s out of mana.”

Lord Moore was blinking at Amerys, who was watching them, eyes narrowed as if she were confused.

“That’s true. Those are unenchanted spears. How did you hit her, Relc?”

He seemed confused. The Drake pointed at him.

“I’m just doing what you did, Moore.”

“What, me?”

“Yep. Seeing where she’ll appear. You did it at the start of the fight. Took me a second to figure it out, but I knew I was seeing it. Just like those damn [Scrying] spells. Looks like a fishing net in the skies. See? There!”

He pointed as Amerys flickered left, and she visibly jumped as he pointed. So did the two [Mages] next to him. Relc grabbed another spear.

“All we gotta do is hit her once! Just—like—this.”

He didn’t know what was going on. It was just sort of…clear. When he raised the spear, drew it back, threw, it was like he was aiming both at Amerys and something else. Relc cursed.

“Nearly hit it.”

“Hit what, Relc?”

Amerys had ducked the throw. But it had been closer than any before. No one was seeing what he was doing?

To the Gecko of Liscor, it was obvious. He could see the magic that Valeterisa had to point out to him and make more visible, like fishing nets in the air. All the little components of a spell strung out. It wasn’t as if a [Fireball] was just a ball of fire. It was a bunch of little strands of fire; even he’d noticed that. So, just like that…

[Scrying] spells were so much more than just an eye in the sky. There were all kinds of little bits and threads that made up the spell itself. He didn’t understand it, but he saw it. And he wondered if you sliced one of the little threads, what might happen? But the Drake was no mage.

Amerys…Amerys was easier. When he lifted a spear, it was clear. He could not follow the speed of her lightning. Nor her movements with the naked eye, but it was like…fishing. You had to gaze beyond the dim shape of the fish underwater, if you could even see it. It was like a line he followed, moving from where Amerys was pivoting, taking a step, towards where he knew, suddenly, she’d end up. All he had to do was hit it—

There. Her finger blew the spear out of the air a foot from her face. Relc sighed. He’d never hit her with a spear, even if he was on track. So he glanced down at the water lapping at his boots. Another problem.

“I need [Waterwalking] if I’m gonna fight her, Valley. I’ve got to get close up. Mireden, if you’re using [Mark Target] or whatever that is—keep doing it. The squiggling lines are hard, but I can touch her. But is the water…?”

He squinted at Valeterisa, then at the water. Then turned to the other two.

“That’s not magic or where Amerys is moving next. Who’s doing that? It’s beautiful, but all I want to do is cut it.”

Valeterisa and Lord Moore were exchanging glances and staring at the things he was, but they didn’t seem to see it. Relc gazed down into the water, and he swore…he could see something under the dark, muddy surface of the Floodplain’s water. Like he swore he was when he was fishing sometimes. Or spear dancing. Like a layer under the surface of the world…

His head rose as he whirled another spear up. Then, Relc glanced at Valeterisa. Her eyes were focused on him. On the way he drew his arm back to throw, and Amerys was watching him too.

Warily. No longer smiling, but with respectful eyes. As if she might blink and die. And Valeterisa? His beloved Archmage was gazing at Relc as if she had for a moment forgotten the magic now visible in her own eyes.

Like someone gazed upon a painting come to life. A work of art; a gaze he had never known, but longed for all his life. For the pride in it. The pride and satisfaction.

The Drake caught himself. Lord Moore had exhaled, like a witness to great miracles, and bowed his head. He clasped a fist to his chest as a man praying.

The Archmage of Chandrar was waiting, a woman possessed by the desire to see. The Gecko of Liscor lowered his arm, and the scars on his bulging muscles glinted in the rain.

He inspected his arm, as if he had never seen it before. Then, suddenly, tilted his head back like a man hearing a story he had once told. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out.

A dreamer wishing to see the end of this, even if it was just his imagination. Relc Grasstongue stood before the eyes of the world and saw no Archmage of Lightning. No Floodplains filled with rain.

Just…a grinning old Gnoll, long in the tooth, hunched over a worn spear as he chatted with a weary [Soldier] on the side of the road. The [Spearmaster] laughed, then swung his spear and parted the grass.

But that was not, truly, the amazing part. Relc told that story so many times to his students, to other people, and they focused on the two hundred and thirty-eight steps he had taken to find the end of the place the spearmaster had cut. As if it were about mere distance.

No…Relc had thought that if the old Gnoll had wanted, he could have cut the field as far as Relc could see. Because it wasn’t about the grass. He hadn’t cut the grass. He’d cut something…else.

Now, the Gecko of Liscor saw the same thing. A layer under the world he knew, no less real, that he had touched so many times in the moments when everything was perfect. That feeling, as if you could leap into the skies if you jumped right or catch a piece of the air itself. Sheer instinct, mastery, and longing.

So, the [Spearmaster] opened his eyes and copied the gesture he had tried a million times to remember. He looked around and gazed at the water.

“Oh, there it is.”

His spear, the simple practice spear placed by Tekshia Shivertail’s shrine, cut through the rain. It cut through the air as he slashed across his chest in a straight, horizontal line.

The waters before Relc splashed softly. A spray of liquid; Amerys Retoiber gazed down at what the Drake had cut.

“Ah.”

She sighed, and the mirror of her reflection showed her a smiling woman, battle-worn, but standing in quiet awe for a moment in the rain. Water landed on the water that Relc had caught and pooled over the top of it.

As if…the water below were no longer a liquid. Valeterisa gazed down at the mirror’s finish of the water. A patch of clear space, not much longer than Relc was tall. Still liquid, and yet not liquid. Captured, controlled.

Still. Then Relc’s feet landed on the water.

“Huh. It’s flat.”

He stood on the place he’d cut, blinking down—until the mirror’s edge wobbled, and he leapt back onto the hill of grass. The oddity in the world collapsed, and water rushed around before returning to normal.

Relc gazed at his spear. Then slashed the water again. And this time, he saw what he was doing more clearly. It wasn’t half as graceful as the old Gnoll. Relc had missed his mark, cut something else instead of space. He’d cut…

Motion? The water went still again, and there was a peace from the patch of the world Relc had…silenced. A quiet calm that let other parts of the world touch it and not yield.

Once more, when the spray of water cleared, there it was. A mirror’s edge. He failed when he tried it a third time, but when he glanced up at Amerys, she understood why her barriers had vanished.

That spear cut through the hum of magic. Through the rush of waters. It brought only quiet where it touched. She was lucky he didn’t have mastery of it.

Amerys felt at the gash on her ribs and addressed him directly.

“[Spearmaster]. There are such laws as physics, you know.”

His teeth shone as he gave her the sharpest smile she’d seen in her life.

“That’s what everyone tells me, but I forget them all the time. Neat trick, huh? Okay, Valley, Lord Raithland. Think we can take her now?”

Amerys was calculating what he could do. Break her magic with the spear? Create improbable surfaces? He couldn’t fly—but he’d be running over the water.

“Gecko of Liscor. How appropriate. You know, some geckos can run on water?”

Relc opened his mouth, frowning.

“Are you…trying to hurt my feelings? Because it’s working.”

His tone was casual, but he’d lowered himself into that attack stance, and Amerys was eying the half-Giant and Valeterisa. Valeterisa with her new magic…Amerys felt at her belt pouch. She glanced at the bubble of Valeterisa’s sacred texts being shielded by Montressa, a dedicated [Aegiscaster]. Stared at the sky.

“I’ll have to reroute around Pallass this time, and Zeres…mhm.”

She checked her mana pool and nodded. Then she raised her hands.

“I concede defeat. Today. Next time, we shall duel properly, Valeterisa. No outsiders.”

All three, Drake, Human, and half-Giant, didn’t move for a second. Amerys floated backwards, smiling beatifically. She pointed at Valeterisa and nodded to her.

“Cowardice does not befit you, Archmage of Izril.”

She floated backwards, still facing the others—until the spear passed through the place her head had been. Then Amerys zipped back down and landed on a hill.

“Damn.”

That sometimes actually worked. Relc grabbed another spear.

“She’s running! Get her!”

“Wait, she is?”

Valeterisa was so surprised she forgot to attack for a second as Lord Mireden slammed his staff into the ground. Amerys lightning-dashed away, heading southwards—

The half-Giant crashed to the ground and swung a blade of iron down, cutting off her path. She swerved, cursing—

Relc leapt off a hill, threw a spear, and it met a [Lightning Bolt] and exploded. He landed in the water, swearing, and Amerys did an aileron roll—then saw the [Light Arrows] coming. Too slow. She was grinning until she slammed into an invisible forcefield.

“Ow. What the—”

“You—you think you can just run away after all you’ve done?”

Montressa du Valeross might not be a fighter, but she was great at walls. Like, say, one that kept someone in a bubble. She hid as Amerys’ eyes sparked at her.

“Good job, Apprentice! Get her, Relc! Attack! Attack!”

Amerys moved along the inside of Montressa’s bubble, kicking it, punching, dodging a slash from Relc, and commenting, breathlessly, but surprisingly cooly given the situation she was in.

“I’ve lost. You don’t want to see me fight to the death, and neither do I. Besides, this isn’t my first duel. We both know how you do them.”

Valeterisa frowned. Mindgames? Amerys was desperate. She began shooting [Light Arrows] through Montressa’s one-way barrier at the Archmage of Chandrar. Then she began to analyze what Amerys had just said. Wait…no good [Mage] went into a duel without a backup plan if they lost. Only idiots did that, and her hero, Valmira.

What if—her head turned. Scanning the Floodplains of Liscor, the rain and battle-damaged hills. But Valeterisa was too slow. Even Amerys sometimes was.

 

——

 

A blur raced up Liscor’s walls. The [Guards], focused on the distant magical firefight and their [Spearmaster], didn’t even see him. There was only one millisecond when you would have even caught a glimpse of him.

A Garuda, one foot clutching the edge of the wall for support as he tensed to leap. Then he was gone.

You could see him then, but not fully. Just—the spray of water. If you were following that, he was hundreds of feet ahead. He raced across the churning waves caused by Amerys’ silly little duel.

The footing sucked. He envied the Drake. Solid ground would be an asset. If they’d been friendlier, Takhatres would have asked for a lesson to see if he could learn it.

They were both [Warriors].

“Ah, well. It was a good break. And they don’t even sell water here. Amazing. [The Great Desert Kicks].”

Dust over the waters. Sand—a surreal sight. Comforting; all the water unnerved him. His clawed foot hit the barrier imprisoning his friend and drinking buddy.

Takhatres went through Montressa’s spells and struck the half-Giant twice in the chest; peeled away, shaking his clawed hands out.

“Hard as a rock.”

“What was that?”

Archmage Amerys leapt with him, a bolt of lightning and the fastest Garuda in the world, onto a hill. There he could stop moving. Takhatres slowed down his voice.

“I said, ‘hard as a rock’. No wonder you weren’t cracking him. Shoddy work with the [Spearmaster], though. I’ve never seen you appear that rattled.”

“I have witnessed a miracle of magic. And that Drake just earned a true mastery of the spear!”

Amerys glowered at him. She was panting; he smiled, his lower beak curving upwards. The Lord of the Skies wore a simple traveller’s clothing, not his beautiful regalia when he was upon Chandrar. Amazing how often that worked.

He’d been in Liscor, oh, all of two days. He’d stopped to check out the New Lands and some other places, like the yodelling Drakes, when Amerys had dropped him close enough to Izril’s shores to run the rest of the way.

He couldn’t cross the entire ocean by running; it was too tiring. But he was not one of the King’s Seven for nothing.

Of course, it took the other Archmage, [Spearmaster], and half-Giant time to process him. Then the Drake swore.

“Oh shit, it’s that guy! That other guy!”

“‘That guy’? Is that all my name is in Izril?”

Takhatres was insulted. They knew Amerys by her hair alone! No one had even recognized him once! He’d gone into Pallass without so much as them arguing over his passport!

“You have to attack one of their Walled Cities to be famous. Were you planning on letting me die out there? You saw my signal!”

Amerys was nattering. She was shaking her hands up and down, and Takhatres rolled his eyes.

“The moment the Archmage of Izril started firing those [Light Arrows], you should have fallen back. Now, are we going to fight a bit more before leaving? They’re going to be on us like ticks on Flos Reimarch’s ass after a swamp battle now that they know it’s both of us.”

He eyed the [Spearmaster] and half-Giant. Warriors both. With Amerys, he could make a fight of it, but he didn’t want to. It left a bad taste in his beak after the city was generous with its water.

“I don’t want to fight the [Spearmaster]. He just capstoned or I’m a peacock’s uncle. They’re always feeling themselves when they capstone, even before they level.”

Amerys was gritting her teeth.

“She just unlocked [Autocasting]. I have to have it, Takhatres. It’s going to change everything—! I have some of her notes, but most of them are in that bubble.”

She pointed, and the Lord of the Skies raised his brows.

“I’m not jumping to grab it. Too much. You think you can pop it and grab the lot before she fries you?”

“I’m thinking. Shut up!”

The two’s conversation was so much faster than normal people were used to. Valeterisa pointed at him in alarm.

“It’s Takhatres, the Lord of the Skies, Relc! One of the King’s Seven! Get back!”

The Garuda bowed to her.

“Finally.”

Lord Moore slapped his forehead.

“Damn, I forgot all about him in the excitement.”

“You knew he was—?”

Relc and Valeterisa rounded on Lord Moore, and Takhatres reckoned he could have tagged one or the other. Maybe not; the [Spearmaster] seemed pretty quick.

“Amerys? Time’s running out.”

She glowered at him.

“You’ve been fighting for ten seconds. I knew I should have brought Mars.”

“And how is she going to get you out of here?”

The Archmage of Lightning ignored him. She floated upwards and gestured to the Garuda.

“As you can see, I brought backup. Shall we call this a draw?”

Valeterisa gobbled at her.

“You—you beat me up, stole my papers—give them back!”

“Nooo….no. Don’t be silly. You’ve achieved a grand discovery of magic. I’m the outraged one. And your paramour capstoned.”

You had to admire her. Takhatres grinned again; Amerys was acting like she was the one who had every reason to be outraged. Certainly, she seemed to have stunned Valeterisa into having trouble breathing.

The half-Giant struck the ground with his staff, and the waters rippled; Takhatres eyed him warily. He hated foes who could change the terrain.

“Further conflict benefits no one. Try Liscor again and you will not just face us, but the inn. There is an [Archer]—two [Archers] who could clip even the Lord of the Skies’ wings.”

Amerys’ eyes narrowed as Lord Mireden thundered.

“Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten you, half-Giant. Was it you who provoked me?”

He nodded his head to her.

“One should fall for bait less easily if they are outraged at being treated like a fish, Archmagus.”

“Hah. Fish metaphors. What a strange continent.”

The Garuda shifted from foot to foot, waiting impatiently. If they were going to scrap, they might as well…but no, [Mages].

They just had to float at each other. The angry Archmage of Izril and the Archmage of Chandrar circling each other, trading insults. Takhatres rolled his eyes.

“[Mages], am I right?”

He tried to strike up conversation with the [Spearmaster], but the Drake just jabbed a spear his way. The Lord of the Skies sighed and listened to them fight.

“I—I won’t forget this! You thief! You thug! Brigand!”

“Oh, please. You do the same thing. Turnabout is fair enough.”

“Calling in help to run away! Cowardly! Despicable! Craven! Pusillanimous!”

“Says the woman too afraid to fight me until her [Apprentice] and lover stepped into an Archmage’s duel.”

“How would you know? You have neither!”

Ooh. That one landed. Takhatres saw Amerys grin; but she did that as a reflex whenever someone got her. She glanced down at Relc, then her voice became oddly…conversational.

“Yes, well, we all find lovers. I envy you the joy of it until it flickers out. That one is a [Spearmaster], but has not a whit of magic about him. You cannot speak to him of magic, can you? Just as he cannot touch you unguarded but break you.”

Her eyes focused on Valeterisa, searching her for cracks—but unlike the [Princess], Valeterisa just blinked owlishly at her.

“I…what? Naturally, I speak to Relc of magic, which he does not always understand.”

“Ah, so.”

The Archmage gave Valeterisa a knowing, even superior, smile of weariness. Valeterisa tilted her head left and right.

“But he listens and provides much Relc-commentary. A delightful listening experience even my apprentice enjoys. Just as I listen to things I do not know. Like fishing.”

That made Amerys blink in genuine surprise. Relc glanced up.

“Uh, Valley? Is this the time?”

Both Archmages ignored him. The Archmage of Chandrar was glancing down at Relc and speaking slowly.

“There will come a…power is one aphrodisiac. Magic another. That he has some parity in your levels is perhaps enough. But you and I are old. How many little illusions do you cast? In private or public?”

“Good question, Amerys. You never tell me.”

She flicked jolts of lightning at Takhatres as Valeterisa blushed.

“I—I don’t cast magic! It’s very disconcerting to him.”

“Ridiculous.”

Now, Amerys glared at Relc, and he cast around as if suspecting there was some kind of cunning ambush occurring. He protested.

“Wh—we’re fighting, right? I can’t stand illusions. Makes me feel like someone’s about to mug me. [Prostitutes] used to beat up lads in—and there’s [Rogues] and—what are we doing?”

Amerys was thinking hard, hmming, as Montressa debated putting her fingers in her ears. Valeterisa seemed to snap out of this odd conversation she rather suspected she was winning somehow.

“I—I will not put Montressa or Relc in danger. I am aware of the Lord of the Skies’ danger. If you so much as raise a hand, I will hurt you. Badly. Begone from Izril!”

She shoved at Amerys, with her mana, and the Archmage of Chandrar resisted, then glanced down. She exhaled, and Takhatres saw how much she was bluffing to keep them from realizing she was tired. The two Archmages locked eyes—then dropped.

Valeterisa landed in Relc’s arms. Both glared at Amerys; Takhatres stepped to the side as she slowed to hovering just above him.

“Alright, [Levitation] and make sure you’re chained to me.”

He produced a…rope and tossed it to her. She hung in the air, rather like a balloon, as he tied the other end of the rope to a harness he wore for this purpose.

It was a trick to let him carry her at speed. She did tend to resemble a bouncing pillow being dragged along by him, but it was efficient. Amerys stared at Valeterisa being princess-carried by Relc. The Archmage of Izril glanced around, then gave Amerys a triumphant smile.

The Archmage of Balloons blew a kiss. Relc glanced down at Valeterisa.

“So they’re running away?”

“They have to. The longer they stay, the more the Drakes will try to capture or kill them. They have to make it all the way to Chandrar.”

Valeterisa seemed only mildly happy at the journey, and Takhatres’ feet hurt just thinking about it. He whispered to Amerys.

“You had better have leveled or I’m burying you headfirst on the beach when we get back.”

She whispered back.

“I’ve stolen her theorems! I’m on the path to greater magic! This is a victory—though I feel like I’ve lost.”

She glared at the Drake and Human couple. Relc was scratching his chin.

“So…we won? And they’re just gonna run off?”

“Yes.”

Lord Moore ratified this series of events to Relc. He stared at Valeterisa, turned his head to Montressa, then peered at two of the King’s Seven. The Gecko of Liscor nodded.

“Right. Valley?”

“Mm, Relc?”

“Blast them with everything you’ve got. Montressa, you too. Lyonette, if you’re listening, tell Bird to open fire. Relc to Watch Capta—Watch Commander? Fire the wall spells.”

The Drake glanced around as the Garuda and Human froze. He turned as Valeterisa sat up in his arms.

“What? They’re running. They just scared the shit out of our city, kicked the hell out of you, and ate my pizza and they get to just walk off? They said they’re retreating. Get them!”

He grabbed his spear and threw it; Takhatres was already dashing away, but he had to come back because Amerys had forgotten to tie the rope around her leg. She dodged as Valeterisa raised her wand, then fired a flurry of [Light Arrows] at her.

“Damn it, Takhatres—run!”

“I’m trying t—quail eggs!”

A ballista bolt came out of nowhere, and he jumped on top of it, then backflipped a [Stone Spear] from the half-Giant. An arrow shot towards his face. Takhatres bit the arrow and grabbed Amerys.

“Get them! Get theeeeeeem!”

Relc was roaring as Montressa hesitantly shot a bolt of lightning at two of the King’s Seven. Then realized they really weren’t firing back. Both were dodging—Montressa’s eyes widened, then she began to vent her anxiety and terror in spell-form.

 

——

 

Relc Grasstongue’s face was all over the scrying orb as Liscorians stared at him. He was standing on the hill, roaring.

“Where are the wall spells? Someone activate them! Let them have it! This is Liscor, our home! Nothing takes a swing at us and goes back unhurt! Get me another spear to throw!”

He was hurling rocks at the retreating duo. The Liscorians turned to the silent walls. But they were the King of Destruction’s Seven.

 

——

 

Watch Commander Venim was gazing in horror at the scrying spell, much as he had been for the last thirty minutes. He sat back at his desk as his [Receptionist] and Liscor’s Council gazed at him.

He didn’t touch his speaking stone. Who’d be mad enough to—

Venim’s heart jolted out of his chest as a female voice roared from the speaking stone.

“You heard him! FIRE THE WALL SPELLS.”

Watch Captain Zevara was shouting across all frequencies. Venim scrambled for the speaking stone. The Council began arguing, half for, half against—

“Zevara, are you mad?”

At least there were sane people on the w—then he heard a calm voice clicking on the other end.

“This is Sergeant Brassbadge. Order acknowledged. Firing, Watch Captain! Aim for the Garuda.”

 

——

 

Liscor’s walls lit up, and Takhatres swore as he sensed incoming artillery magic. It might just be wall spells, but it could hit them across the Floodplains thanks to a certain Archmage’s upgrades.

Who had the stones in that city—?

He jumped a long-range rune which exploded upwards in fire.

“Reimarch’s tits, Amerys! I hate dodging spells cast by decent casters!”

She was deflecting spells coming at them too—another arrow took out a tangle of her hair, and she yelped.

“Faster, you idiot! I nearly got killed! Who shot that?”

 

——

 

Elia Arcsinger lowered her bow and touched her heart for a second, utterly blank-faced. She turned to Bird, who was firing her bow and commanding the ballista unit.

“I thought she had barrier spells.”

“Oh, I think Relc clipped her with his new spear. You nearly murdered Amerys. Right when the King of Destruction would have seen it too. That would depress him so much he’d go to sleep again. Good job, Elia.”

Bird clapped Elia on the shoulder. The Named-rank adventurer lowered her bow and went for a walk.

 

——

 

They were on the outskirts of the Floodplains of Liscor, and the arrows kept coming. Archmage Valeterisa was throwing them down from above. So many that it was like a meteor shower; the two were dodging left and right, taking hits—not strong hits, but the arrows hurt if you took too many!

“[Lesser Spellsh—ow! [Lesser Spellsh—stop jostling me you idiot!”

“Just cast a moving umbrella, you dumb [Mage]!”

“No one has that! I can do a personal barrier, but not a moving barrier!”

“I saw the half-Giant do it! You incompetent spark-mage! You—incoming!”

Another bolt of lightning from Liscor’s walls was coming down, and now, Takhatres thought, the Walled Cities were going to let them have it. They were running out of Liscor’s range straight into the Bloodfields—then Pallass’ aegis. If they somehow made it past that, every podunk Drake city would think they could take a shot at these two thanks to that Lizard guy.

What was his name? Takhatres would look it up later.

The two of them were fighting, Amerys being dragged along like a lightning-filled balloon in the sky. Dodging attacks. And then…

Laughing. Their faces filled the scrying orb, even at a distance, as the Garuda and Human woman started giggling. Despite the attacks coming at them. Just…guffawing like they were having the time of their lives. Then the Archmage of Chandrar peered up and blocked the [Scrying] spells.

But that was how they left. That, perhaps, summed them up the best.

Madfolk. The King of Destruction’s Seven. As insane as he was. An Archmage who had crossed a continent to throw down the gauntlet at another peer and been sent packing.

Archmage Amerys, defeated by the Archmage of Izril.

Archmage…Amerys. Amerys, the Calm Flower of the Battlefield, defeated by Archmage Valeterisa Imarris. The Archmage who had lifted the City of Incantations had bested Chandrar’s greatest [Mage].

Wait—then you could see Valeterisa catch herself in the air, panting, and realize the same thing everyone else did.

She’d won?

She’d won.

 

——

 

Fierre val Lischelle-Drakle was stronger, tougher, and sexier than she’d ever been in her life. The power of the old blood ran in her veins.

She was still having trouble breathing, because Lady Ieka Imarris was holding her so tight even the Vampiress felt her ribs groaning.

 

——

 

“Well, well, well. This era has a [Mage] capable of grand discoveries. It’s one thing to learn ancient magic. Another to figure out how it’s done.”

Magus Tserre refused to say anything else nice about the duel. She’d been running a critique the entire time and really ruined the entire affair for everyone in earshot…only Prildor was in the room with her. Everyone else had switched scrying orbs.

Tserre glared around as she realized she had no audience. Then she went to drag Princess Vernoue away from the cheering people to lecture her on exactly how many things had been stupid about that duel.

 

——

 

“Yes.”

Grimalkin of Pallass made a fist and bumped it against Lady Pryde’s. He stood in Channel 1’s studio, and his voice roared over the scrying orb.

The Drake you needed to end it all. His neck muscles bulged, and he roared that word so loudly it imprinted itself in the minds of small children and adults across the world.

“TESTICLES. That’s what true magic is! That’s what grit and determination do!”

He was slamming his hands on the table. Lady Pryde, far from trying to calm Grimalkin down, was so energetic she was lifting her chair up overhead.

“Izril! Izril! The superior continent! Do you see that, King of Destruction?”

“Sinew Magus, calm down—the set—”

Noass and Sir Relz were trying to stop him, but the Drake just pointed a shaking finger at the scrying orb. He roared at Noass.

“This is what happens when you people stop caring about what happens outside of your walls! An Archmage lifts your city skywards! Did you think that was an illusion? Did you think she could only do it once? Fissival could have had her. We could have had her.”

He clutched at his head, then gazed at the Archmage of Izril firing spells without end into the sky.

“She is going to clear a path to the heart of magic. I swear, I will be there when it happens.”

He stooped and gazed around, the light of what she had seen reflected in his eyes. The Drake whispered.

“I want Pallass to see it too.”

Then he kicked the news anchor desk over.

“Gonads!”

He and Lady Pryde stormed out of the room to exercise the adrenaline out. With actual weights. Nothing like endorphins for pushing your limits.

 

——

 

Then it was done. Lyonette du Marquin stood there, watching the two Drakes trying to pick up their news desk, then switched to Channel 2, where Drassi was racing to Liscor to interview the heroes.

After a few moments, the [Princess] realized no one had actually invoked The Wandering Inn or was even coming here for a party. They were all at Liscor, which was mindful, and it was excellent the inn was safe, but…

She couldn’t help but feel that they’d forgotten Amerys had come here first. No, it was fine. This was the point! Just—

It was an odd feeling. Surreal. Mrsha turned to Nanette and Visma.

I keep thinking the inn is going to explode or this is where the Elder Creler pops out. Huh. Knock on wood?

“I’m going to be an Archmage!”

Visma shouted, throwing up her clawed hands. Nanette whispered to Mrsha.

“Think we can get Valeterisa to teach us autocasting?”

The two girls rubbed their hands together as Lyonette relaxed and smiled in relief.

There, that was better.

 

——

 

One last thing. Oh, there was much more. The King of Destruction’s reaction, both to the battle and to his vassals’ return.

Levels…so many levels. For so many, and one sneaky Gnoll [Server] who was trying not to appear smug as could be as he cleaned tables.

The changing nature of magic. Archmage Eldavin reassessing his ‘junior’ Archmage both in popularity and magical ability.

Valeterisa, hugging Relc, and the [Spearmaster] of Liscor’s return to his city, where they cheered for him harder than the Archmage. His surprise and gratitude as he laid the spear he had taken on Tekshia Shivertail’s altar and saluted it.

Gecko of Liscor.

Archmage of Izril. Perhaps they needed a better title for her.

And the half-Giant of Liscor, who had cemented his name in the city’s eyes, despite the potential cost. He didn’t meet a certain young Gnoll woman’s eyes as Arrema scowled at him, the one dissenting face in a crowd of admirers.

But one…small thing.

 

——

 

Takhatres, the Lord of the Skies, waited until they were in a safe area between danger zones as he slowed. Amerys needed to rest—and use the bathroom—and heal and replenish mana.

Long way back. A level for her would make this all worthwhile. He cricked his neck, sighing.

He hadn’t gotten much, but he’d at least gotten lots of free water, and his bag of holding could hold a lot of the stuff. The water was worth hundreds of gold pieces, even if he needed to purify it a bit. He spat something into one hand and inspected it idly.

“Takhatres? What was that? You hung onto it.”

“It’s the arrow some bastard shot at my face. Good shot too. I noticed it had this attached to it.”

The Garuda flicked the arrow at Amerys, and she shrugged.

“Just some arrow. Nice fletching.”

“Right? Not enchanted; they weren’t trying to kill you, except for that one arrow. But what’s this?”

The arrow had a little piece of string attached to it and a sodden note. Takhatres unfurled it and read. The note read:

 

Hello, I am Bird. I have a question. If you cannot fly, are you a bird or not? I am very confused.

—Bird the Huntress

 

The Lord of the Skies stared at the note for a long moment as Amerys read over his shoulder. He slowly crumbled the note up, then shredded it.

Of all the things he’d go through on the way back home—

That one hurt the most.

 

 

[Class Change: Spearmaster → Spearmaster: The Spear of Silence Level 40!]

[Spearmaster: The Spear of Silence Level 40!]

[Skill – Cut of Mirrors Learned!]

[Skill – Magebane Armaments Obtained!]

[Skill – Spear Dance: Catch the Lightning Obtained!]

[Skill – Summon Temporary Weapon: Spear (Mundane) Obtained!]

[Skill – Thrown Weapon: Angler’s Weave Obtained!]

 

[Grand Magus of Mind and Studies Level 57!]

[Spell – Autocast Rediscovered!]

[Skill – Supreme Spellcraft Obtained!]

[Skill – Create Automagic Spell Obtained!]

[Spell – Ninvet’s Continuous Generator Obtained!]

[Skill – Dimensional Note Storage Obtained!]

 

[Title – A Glimpse of Magic’s Truth Obtained!]

[Title Skill – Eyes of Magical Truth Granted!]

 

[Dancing Magus of the Fulgur Bloom Level 58!]

[Skill – Sorcerous Transmutation of the Elements: Lightning Obtained!]

 

[Green Lord of the Cured City Level 52!]

[Skill – Increased Velocity: Earth Magic Obtained!]

 

[Title – Protector of Liscor Obtained!]

[Liscor – Reputation: Famed Granted!]

[Title Skill – Convincing Smile Granted!]

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

…And this was the final major chapter in the Halfseekers arc. I’m not sure if I wrote this one in one go. I sure hope not, but it’s an example of how no side stories are really just ‘side’. The showdown between Amerys and Valeterisa was on the books for a long while, but this was the moment for it.

That’s the way I tell some stories. Things interweaving and happening because they’re connected, as things usually are. So sometimes you vote for the Halfseekers and get two Archmages throwing down.

It happens. But our half-Giant from the future was here, too. Setting things up—that tricksome fellow. There’s just one chapter left, an epilogue of sorts, which I’ll probably release on Tuesday. Then we’ll be…

Hmm.

You know what? I don’t know. I liked writing these chapters, even if ‘short’ once again vanished. The style of it and pacing reminded me of how I used to write, but of course I can’t keep that old pace. The speed of writing a 20,000 word chapter in a single night and releasing it doesn’t work both in the sense that it was insane to do, and the quality was lowered for lack of editing.

Well, I’m in an introspective mood today. I’m thinking about that retrospective on the Palace of Fates I promised—I may begin looking for reader thoughts in some manner, if only on the Discord soon. For now, I’m going to rest a bit despite having come back off of my monthly break. The pace is still high! 40,000 words in a week…and that was on top of whatever I wrote to get here. You’re all lucky I don’t have other things to do.

Hope you enjoyed. Like Nerrhavia, I always long to see that silly Archmage fly. Valeterisa has some of my favorite scenes of any character in both her Fissival arc and this one. And perhaps the future…I’ll see you then. Looking forwards to it.

 

 

Innktober has begun! This is Day 1: Baleros, from submissions on the Discord! 

 

Titan of Baleros by Chalyon!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/chalyon

 

Niers by Carbon!

 

Baleros by Dalin!

 

Titan’s Stories by HumbleDuck!

 

Tallguard Poster by Lanrae!

 

Geneva by Yura!

Ko-Fi: ko-fi.com/yurariria

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/yuraria.bsky.social

 

United Nations by katiemaeve!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/katiemaeve

 

Centaur Courier by Karu!

 

Baleros Travel by Marg!

 

Erin vs Ants by LeChatDemon!

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/demoniccriminal

Stash with all the TWI related art: https://sta.sh/222s6jxhlt0

 

Eyes of Baleros by BrazyCanana!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/justaguywithabeanie/

 

Nerin by AVI!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/0avi0

 

Aria Fellstrider by Kazah!

 

Fraerling City by Gridcube!

 

Erin’s Plank by Guliver!

 

Nailihuaile’s End by Ashok!

 

Foliana Ambush by olento!

 

Ryoka Rescue and Team Green by Brack!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/brack

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Brack_Giraffe

 

Erin, Ulvama and Hornet by Sanfre!

 

Baleros Adventures by Sehad!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/F1F096BR

 

 

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