David Niemitz
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Guild Mage 166
🕑 Added 2025-05-05 19:48:05 +0000 UTCChapter 166: The Flowers of Home
When Liv went back inside the Vædic ruins, she found Sidonie once again standing before the curved glass panes in the control room. The journeyman’s book was spread out next to her, along with her small pot of ink and quill pen, and Liv noticed that she had managed to get smudges of dark ink on her nose – probably from adjusting her spectacles.
“You asked me to take you when I next entered a rift,” Liv recalled. “I’m sorry this one doesn’t have the corpse of a goddess, or an army of skeletons.”
“Don’t be,” Sidonie muttered, without even looking at Liv. “This is interesting. I think this place has only one purpose, Liv, though it’s hardly capable of functioning after so long.”
“That isn’t surprising. The Foundry Rift seems like it was designed to turn out Antrian war machines in great numbers,” Liv reasoned. “I imagine it was built - or maybe just rebuilt - during the war, when the Vædim needed soldiers. When they got desperate. That’s probably when those chambers of Wren’s people were built at Godsgrave, too. And the Well of Bones. But then there are other rifts that seem almost – mundane in purpose.”
“The Tidal Rift was a fishery,” Sidonie agreed, nodding. “Food production. Did I ever end up telling you about the rift they sent us to, while you all stayed at Coral Bay?”
Liv shook her head, sitting down on a nearby bench. “Not really. By the time we got back from Lendh ka Dakruim, there was the coronation to catch up on, and then I had a class of students to teach. I’m sorry that I never asked.”
“Duskvale,” Sidonie said. “The place is horrible. A sort of gloom just leaks out of the rift, into everything. You can’t see, and when you walk into it the temperature drops. You can feel it, I couldn’t help but shiver. You have to bring lights with you. Anyway, they kept us just at the edges of the shoals to reinforce a culling team. But it made me think, what was that rift for? Or was it ever for anything at all?”
“You have a theory,” Liv said, smiling.
“Three types,” Sidonie said, holding up three fingers. “Rifts that were built before the war, for a specific purpose. I think we’re in one of those, by the way. Second, rifts built during the war, when the Vædim were trying to find a way to win. Third, rifts that formed entirely by accident. They have no discernible purpose, but they do have something in common, I think – they’re where the old gods died.”
“The Tomb of Celris,” Liv said. “Godsgrave. The Well of Bones – though wouldn’t that actually fit into two of your categories?”
“I think a certain amount of overlap makes sense,” Sidonie said, nodding. “After all, the Vædim couldn’t have been planning to die where they did. Maybe their death twists things, like the magic you found beneath the Well of Bones.”
“You think Duskvale is one of those rifts?” Liv asked her.
“I’d like to find out,” Sidonie admitted. “I can’t think of much reason to just create a place that leaks darkness. It makes more sense to me if that’s an expression of magic gone out of control, like the Well of Bones. But, back to this place. It creates mana.”
“All rifts release mana,” Liv reminded her. “That’s why they’re surrounded by shoals. And then it builds up, and they erupt, and mana comes spilling out.”
Sidonie shook her head. “But that isn’t the purpose of every rift,” she argued. “Not specifically. The Foundry leaks mana, but its purpose was to construct an army. The Tidal Rift, too. And you said that after you destroyed Costia’s corpse, the Well of Bones decreased in power. It put out less mana. So let’s say that all rifts of the first and second categories produce a modest amount of magic, in addition to whatever they were designed to do originally. And then the places where the Vædic Lords, maybe they’re all just leaking power from a corpse.”
“All the most powerful rifts would be places where the old gods died, then,” Liv mused. “Whatever else that place was before. Even if it was never a rift in the first place.”
“But this ruin is small,” Sidonie said. “Just three levels, a room a piece, and then the mechanisms out along the ridge. No greater purpose, not vital to their war effort, and none of them died here. Its only purpose was to catch the wind, turn those mills, and use the machines down below to throw mana out into the world. Why?”
“I can answer that,” Wren said, walking over from the shaft. Liv hadn’t even noticed the huntress enter - but then again, the other woman had years upon years of practice at moving silently, at being unseen.
“Can you?” Sidonie asked.
Wren nodded. “They need it to live. If they’re anything like Ractia, at least. She recovered strength at the rifts, and withered in between. I saw it during our journey across Varuna. Sometimes we worried that she was close to death, actually.”
“Mana density,” Liv said. “It’s the reason mana beasts don’t often leave the shoals unless there’s an eruption. They’ve grown used to it. I think it actually hurts them to leave, like if you throw a fish up out of the water – it’ll thrash around desperately trying to get back, because otherwise it will die.”
“The Vædim are fish?” Sidonie laughed. “What an irreverent way to think about gods. But it fits. If they need a certain density of mana to exist - then why not build places like this, spaced all around? Look.”
She flipped to a blank page in her spellbook, dipped her pen in ink, and quickly sketched an outline recognizable as Lucania. Then, Sidonie began marking in the location of rifts: at Freeport, Coral Bay, Whitehill, and a dozen other places. She then drew a circle around each marked rift.
“The circle is how far out the rift could push a shoal,” Sidonie explained. “So you would need more rifts to make the circles overlap.” She added rifts where, so far as Liv knew, no rift existed. More circles around them, covering the landscape. “The fish came up on shore and built themselves springs, fountains, to flood the land so that they could survive.”
“If I was going to fight them,” Liv said, twisting a strand of her hair around one finger as she thought, “I would begin by just destroying places like this. Creating stretches of mana-starved land where they couldn’t exist for long. Denying them as much territory as I could.”
“Destroying the magic of the world in order to kill the gods?” Sidonie shrugged. “Who’s to say they didn’t do just that?”
“My father’s people will know,” Liv realized. “My grandfather was alive during the war, and he wasn’t the only one. The most ancient of the Eld remember - the elders of the houses. And there will be journals, books - like the diary of Semhis Thorn-Killer. We might be able to find records in Al’Fenthia, and if not there we could track down Keri’s family.”
She turned to Sidonie. “Have you learned everything you can here?”
“I’m sure I could study everything for ages,” the other girl admitted. “Months. Years, in a rift isolated enough not to have many mana beasts. I may want to come back here, at some point. But compared to someplace like your father’s lands? I – we – will learn more in the Tomb of Celris, I think. And if we’re right, the corpse of a god is waiting there.”
“Alright,” Liv decided. “Most everyone seems to have got a handle on how to exist in the shoal without dying of mana sickness. Let’s make our way to Al’Fenthia.”
☙
It wasn’t that simple, of course.
“I wish I had Triss’ word of power,” Liv grumbled, looking down through swirling snow at the valley below. “You’re certain?”
“When the wind blows the right way, you can smell the smoke of their campfires,” Wren told her. “Game’s been getting scarce, as well. They’re hunting out everything within half a day’s ride of their march. And I flew down last night to get a better look.”
“That was dangerous,” Arjun pointed out. The five of them were huddled up on the icy ledge, with only the waste heat from Liv’s magic keeping them from frostbite. Their breath steamed the air in pale clouds with every word of the conversation.
“I’m just one more bat at night,” Wren said. “No one’s looking for me.”
“Most bats this far north hibernate,” Sidonie pointed out. “I know you grew up in the jungle of Varuna, and perhaps there bats are active year round, but here you’re likely the only bat that isn’t sleeping deep inside a warm cave. You’ll stand out more than you might expect.”
“I could do what I did at the Foundry,” Rose offered. “There’s more than enough loose rock around here, even without mines. I could bury them in a landslide, and then we make a push northwest.”
“If Wren’s numbers are accurate, there’s well over a hundred people camped in the valley,” Liv objected, shaking her head. “As far as most of them know, they’re after a criminal on orders of the king. The average person doesn’t really know just how much of an utter shit Benedict is, or that I’m not a murderer. I don’t think they all deserve to die just for being down there.”
“If they catch us, Liv, they won’t give us a choice,” Rose pointed out. “They won’t have any qualms about trying to kill you.”
“We can’t let them catch us, then,” Liv said. “We fly for Al’Fenthia before they can start scouting the slopes. You’ve seen no sign of any other airborne mana beasts, have you Wren?”
The huntress shook her head. “Eagles like that would have a lot of territory normally – nevermind ones grown to the size we fought. And with a nest of eggs, hatchlings on the way? They would have driven out anything that would be a threat, or that would compete for food. I think we’ll be safe for half a day’s flight, at least.”
“I’m worried about whether we can stay warm,” Arjun said. “The temperature’s dropped in just the time we’ve stayed here, and flying makes it worse. I don’t want to have to cut off any fingers or toes when we land. Can you deal with an entire day of flying, for all of us, Liv?”
“As long as we stay close together,” Liv said, slowly. “And I’ll have to watch for pockets of ambient mana that I can swing us through. It’ll be good practice for that, at least.”
“Dawn’s the best time to leave, then,” Wren said. “I can do just fine at night, but we’ll want Liv to be able to see where she’s going.”
“Everyone make certain you’ve packed up everything you have tonight, then,” Liv instructed. “We leave as soon as we can see.”
They headed back into the ruins, where they ate a meal consisting mostly of rabbits that Wren had brought in. Afterward, Liv gave the dreamstone to Sidonie.
“I don’t know that he’ll be using it every night,” Liv told her friend, “But the next time Master Grenfell checks in, I want you to be the one he speaks with.”
“He was your teacher, not mine,” Sidonie pointed out.
“That’s true,” Liv said. “And after you speak to him, you can always give me the stone back. But I think he would be interested in the notes you’ve taken on the rift. And on top of that, you’re a journeyman – who isn’t even wanted for murder!” She grinned, trying to make a joke of it. “He can imprint Cei on you, and it will be completely within the rules of the guild. Let’s take advantage of that before Genevieve Arundell changes something.”
“That will be my third word,” Sidonie said. “You know how few people have three words, Liv?”
“More now than there used to be, I’d bet,” Rosamund said, from the other side of their circle. “With a second word opened up to all the journeymen, that means the court mages and culling teams will be learning it too. Anyone who had a word from their family will have three now.”
“It used to be most people only had one,” Sidonie pointed out. “And only the royal family had two - or sometimes, there’d be a deal for one generation as part of a marriage alliance. The second sons and daughters who joined the guild were an exception.”
“Most people had none,” Liv corrected her. “Most people are tanners, or farmers, or fishermen. They know a charm or two to help them work, but nothing of high magic. Anyway, you’ll probably have more time to work out spells with Cei than I will,” Liv admitted. “And I want us all to be as prepared as we can be.”
“Liv,” Rosamund asked, after a moment. “Is there an Eldish house that uses Stai?”
“– stone?” Liv asked, after thinking for a moment. “I don’t know by name,” she admitted. “I would expect there must be. From everything my father’s taught me, Lucania lost more words over the years than the Eld, and the Masons Guild uses Stai.”
“I wonder if I could learn it while we’re in the north,” Rose said. “I’ve been thinking about it, this whole time, since the Foundry. I can move rocks if there’s earth around them, but it would be much easier to have both words.”
“That’s your archmage spell right there,” Sidonie pointed out. “Combine Stai and Cem.”
“And it's not illegal to learn in the north, like it is in Lucania,” Rosamund said.
“No, but it could cause you problems when you go home,” Liv pointed out.
Rose shrugged. “The only one I’d really miss would be my brother.”
☙
There wasn’t much to pack up: when the group had left Valegard, they’d prepared for a night raid, not an extended expedition into the wilderness. Liv and her friends had little more than the dirty clothes they’d been wearing for days, and their weapons.
“I can’t wait to have a bath,” Sidonie complained, as they crept out onto the ledge in the light of the dawn. “I don’t even know the last time I was this filthy. We all stink.”
The crossbow bolt came while Liv was conjuring two gyrfalcons from pure mana. She was focused on casting the spell, not on the slopes below them, and it would have drilled her through the eye if Sidonie hadn’t raised a mana-shield without a sound, by pure reflex.
“Ambush!” Wren shouted, dissolving into blood and then winging up in her bat form. Rosamund and Arjun flung glowing blue mana-knives down the rock face, chipping sprays of stone up into the air. A second bolt was thrown off course by the wind, hitting the rock face into which the great metal doors were set.
“Onto the birds!” Liv shouted. She drew her wand, clicked the third button, and drew it across the edge of the ledge. A wall of ice sprang up quickly enough that the next two bolts hit that, sinking an inch deep with a pair of thunks, and vibrated there from the force of their flight.
Rosamund was already up on the back of one bird, reaching down with one arm, and the moment Liv clasped hands with her, the dark haired girl hauled her up. At the whisper of Liv’s intent, both birds launched themselves up into the air, but she knew that it was too dangerous to simply flee. Liv could clearly recall the feeling of Arianell Seton’s silver dart piercing her thigh.
She reached up to the clouds, stretching her Authority into the sky, and stirred them with ice, channeling the waste heat into her friends. With the vantage of height, as the conjured gyrfalcons circled, she could see two men pressed to the rock face below, wrapped in thick wool cloaks and furs. One of them she recognized as Baron Galleron Erskine.
“Lucet Aiveh Æ’Stais,” Liv shouted above the beating of the wings.
With a sudden crack, a jagged tongue of lightning stabbed down from the clouds and hit the bare rock of the mountain summit. The men shouted, scrambling not to fall, and Liv knew their eyes would be blinded for a few precious moments. At her silent command, the gyrfalcons turned and soared northwest. No more crossbow bolts came, and when the ridge of the mountain dwindled behind them, so that even the ruins of the ancient mills were no longer visible, Liv was finally able to relax.
“Sidonie just saved my life,” Liv shouted, over the wind, and found herself trembling.
“Good thing you aren’t alone, then,” Rose replied, her mouth right at Liv’s ear. She squeezed her arms around Liv’s middle.
There were no more eagles, and no sign of rifts until the afternoon. Liv led them through every wisp of ambient mana she could find, and it was only just enough for her to keep her friends warm. She sculpted roses and columbines, bluebells and aspen flowers, everything she could think of that grew wild in the spring and summer around Whitehill. Each frozen flower she dropped, to fall beneath them and shatter somewhere in the high passes.
As the sun was descending to the south, Liv caught sight of Bald Peak in the distance. “That’s my home,” she shouted to Rose, and pointed. For a moment, the urge to bank the birds around and turn toward the mountain was almost irresistible.
Once they reached Bald Peak, she would be able to find Castle Whitehill by sight. They could land on the ramparts of the walls, and Liv could run down the steps. Her mother and Gretta would be there, with hot food in the kitchen, and they could all warm themselves in the hot springs beneath the keep. She could sleep in her own room, in her own bed, for the first time in over a year.
But Benedict’s men would look for her in Whitehill.
Liv flew them north, searching the horizon for her first sight of the Elden city.
Comments
Sam A
I normally don’t comment critically unless something doesn’t make sense to the point of disbelief for me. The confrontation here feels forced… how in the hell did they even find her? They couldn’t have tracked her the normal way because they flew. And somehow they got close enough to get off a headshot with a crossbow?? That’s like 50m. On the top of a mountain? I just don’t think they would have been able to actually hunt her down this well (not to mention how it’s a big stretch that they would have the motivation to spend weeks out in the cold climbing mountains on the off chance to come across her after seeing her fly that direction). Unless they have a mage with a word of power that’s useful for finding exactly where someone is it just pulled me out of immersion. They seem way too desperate.
Jim Smith
It was a point in which she should have reconsidered her stance, underestimating her enemies almost cost her her own life or that of her friends, rise above crossbow range and rained down lightning. Will Benedict respond harshly, absolutely, but he won’t send help to his own people, but will send forces to kill her and her friends. No trial, no judge, after lies and killing Jurian. Obviously people make mistakes, but I would have expected her to reconsider and retaliate. Or optionally attach from above with adamant ice while blinding them with sleet, snow, et cetera. Enemies with a better idea of her capabilities won't be easier to fight later.
