Ar'Kendrithyst

Chapter 37

Erick had gone to bed early and woken up with the sun. No attacks came in the middle of the night; the day was already better than what Erick had expected. Jane made coffee-tea, and however she had done it, she had accomplished a brew much better than Erick’s attempts.

“Big day,” Jane said, sipping her coffee on the veranda. The sun had yet to rise above the city walls, but already the sky was awash in golds and reds. “Are you prepared?”

“Should be.” Erick refilled his cup from the pot nearby. “Are you going to join me?”

“Yes. Some of it. Most of it, actually.” She held her coffee. “Mog asked a lot of people to be there, mostly on the sidelines. I was going to be there anyway. Something is going to happen, for sure.”

Erick smiled. “You haven’t been out to the farms for a rain yet, have you?”

“I’ve met everyone, but no. I haven’t been there for a rain.”

Erick drank his coffee-tea. Gazing at the hot green liquid, he said, “I hope there’s some non-sacrilegious way to take a piss out there.”

Jane chuckled.

She went quiet.

She said, “I felt like you were going to get yourself killed until a few days ago when you went and destroyed those mimics. Then you rescued me from the spiders, and went on to kill a hundred mimics around the farm… Now you’re getting beat up every day at the Guild. But you’re also getting up every time.”

Erick joked, “That’s making news, eh?”

“It is! And… It’s…” She blurted out, “It’s nice. Okay? It’s nice to know that you’re here. I didn’t think you were really here-here, seeing what I was seeing, until… Until very recently.”

Erick set his coffee down. He listened.

“You have this trusting nature and I didn’t… I’ve never respected it. Especially lately.” She blurted, “Thank the gods we were labeled ‘planar’ or else… I don’t think the incani would have stopped with the attack on the Sewerhouse. One of us would have died and I don’t know which would have been worse. You leaving me, or me leaving you. I’m just…”

Erick felt his eyes cloud, but he held back. Jane wasn’t done.

“I’m glad that didn’t happen. I’m glad you killed those mimics. You always used to talk about the social contract when I was a girl, about helping your neighbors as a way to help yourself; that expecting a return was failing to understand that the contract is never about getting a return. It’s about faith.” She sniffled. “I’m really glad to see your faith hasn’t been misplaced—” She looked over to Poi standing at the side. “Guards are still weird to me, but I’m glad they’re here. I’m also glad to see that you’ve stepped up to your end of the social contract.” She smiled, looking away from Erick, at the rising sun. “I hope I can keep up with you.”

Erick watched the sky, listening to Jane.

He said, “Life on Veird isn't that different from Earth.”

Jane sipped her coffee, then nodded, saying, “Sure… There’s monsters and gods and everything else. But. We’re just closer to the front lines on Veird. It’s a luxury to be able to fight over school funding and zoning; here, luxury is carved out of the desert with blood and sweat, then served up on the dinner table.”

Erick nodded.

Jane and Erick both watched the brightening sky.

- - - -

The temple was the same as before; massive, 8 pillared, with a statue of Atunir in the back. The only change to the center of the farms was a small, four walled, no-roofed hut with a hole in the bottom, located just outside of the Ring of Gods. As far as bathrooms went, Erick had seen worse. At least the room was stone and sturdy.

The farms themselves looked a lot dirtier than the last time Erick had seen them. Most of the land had been tilled under, but the small grasses in front of Erick were yellow. Erick pointed out the yellowing to Valok.

Erick said, "They were perfectly healthy before, weren’t they? Shouldn’t some water still be in the soil, or did they really dry out this fast?”

Apogough answered, “That’s [Grow] fatigue, not drying. We tilled and planted new crops in every field, but it looks like we missed some weeds.”

“Look here, now.” Valok pointed toward the temple. A few young dragonkin were hanging out; one of them was Pinkscale, Valok’s daughter. “We got runners for anything you want. If you don’t ask for them, they’ve been instructed to stay away and not make much noise.”

Erick looked to the temple, then looked beyond, to Ar’Kendrithyst.

Apogough asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just waiting for the drama to start. I’m expecting fireballs, but I’m also expecting to be surprised.”

Valok, Apogough, and Poi, joined Erick in looking at the walls of the Dead City.

Poi said, “We have contingencies in place. If there are interruptions, then there are interruptions. This experiment will be cut short upon first violence. Hopefully, nothing happens, but we are prepared for many possible events.”

Erick nodded. “Then I guess… We’re ready?”

“Ready,” Valok said.

“Whenever you are,” Apogough said.

Krakina was not there. Erick felt a bit sad at that.

But the show must go on.

Erick said a prayer to the gods, then—

[Exalted Storm Aura].

Fog rolled in, then up. Clouds began to roil, spreading across the farms, then a bit further. Muted thunder echoed across the Crystal Forest as silver light coalesced in the sky. Platinum rain fell. Yellowed grasses perked right up, turning green, but no further; they weren’t proper targets for Erick’s magic. Apple trees, wheat fields, rice paddies, vines of fruits and bushes of spicy peppers; every crop began to [Grow], as every waterway began to fill. The cows joyfully mooed in the gentle rain as their pasture turned lush, vibrant, and tasty.

Erick moved out of the rain and in to the temple. He went to his bench and took a book out of his shoulderbag. It was one of several novels he had borrowed from Zago after he returned her books on flying, and showed off his unusual aura.

She had said his [Flight of a Thousand Hands Aura] was a good flight spell, and quite similar to the usual one already in the Script; but no one bought that version of [Fly]. Upon reading the description, Erick could see why they didn’t, and why neither Zago nor her books recommend the option.

Intentioned Flight Aura, 10 MP a second, short range.

Grip yourself and the air with your mind. Fly at walking speed.

10 mana a second for walking speed? Utter shit. How could someone even make that, when the base costs for [Airshape X], [Telekinesis X], and Mana Shaping X, added up to 600 base cost every 10 minutes? Even the most basic version of Erick’s Handy Aura shouldn't have added up to 10 mana a second.

Zago had no explanation for the inflated costs, but just that ‘sometimes it’s like that’. Erick either got really lucky, or maybe his understanding of the spell was different than current understanding, which both of them agreed was probably the case.

Erick listened to the rain, and went back to his borrowed book. The light in the temple was a bit dim for reading, so Erick cast three light orbs into the air, each at a varying height and distance. Together, they gave off some good, varied reading light.

Jane showed up shortly after the rain started. She settled into the bench across the temple from Erick, then took out her own books. They looked new, or possibly freshly [Mend]ed. That was odd.

“Did you buy those?”

Jane held up her book. The title was in some foreign language. “Political history of the Crystal Forest. Bought it yesterday down in Portal.”

Suddenly stricken between loss, and anger, Erick asked, “… You went to another town?”

Jane’s eyes went wide. She schooled her expression. “Yeah. I did.”

“And you didn’t invite me!”

Suddenly serious, Jane said, “You can’t go anywhere without your guards.”

Erick was more than a little mad, but he got over it. He sighed. He said, “Maybe I should get [Polymorph] and take a trip incognito, too.”

Jane shook her head. “Sorry, Dad. I tried transforming into other people. Can’t be done without looking like a toddler’s clay sculpture. I mean, you can— The books in the Mage Guild’s Library say you can, but you gotta eat a person to take their form. I’m not doing that.”

“That’s disturbing and wow! Nasty.”

“Yeah.” She asked, “Want me to pick you up something the next time I’m there? I’ve only been twice.”

“Books on mechanical engineering. I want to make a typewriter and a printing press.”

“I think they already have those. I could buy you a typewriter, if you want. Don’t know about a printing press, though.” She smirked, asking, “You want to write a thesis and nail it to a church door somewhere? Distribute some leaflets?”

“Phhbt! No.” Erick held up his book. “What I want is books written in legible block text.”

"... And how would you do that?"

"I'm not sure. Take a book written by hand, and feed it through some sort of magic? That's my working theory."

"Quite a working theory."

Erick grunted, then went back to reading.

Not much happened except for some reading, and some harvesting.

Erick’s story was about a dragonkin on the high seas who—

A field to the south exploded in darkness. Poi rushed to Erick’s side. Jane moved to Erick’s other side. Mog materialized in front of the temple, and the farmers in the fields abandoned whatever they were doing to either run away or materialize armor around their bodies. The kids in the temple ran away, quietly, surely. Erick never stopped the rain; he wasn’t about to let some singular explosion stop him.

A voice carried on the air, “Hello, denizens of this turd-of-a-city, this steaming pile of poor architecture north of our great Kendrithyst!” The explosion had passed; dust and debris were washed out of the air by platinum rain. In the middle of a field two hundred feet away, where wheat had been growing, there was a non-distinct man made of shadow, but thin; stretched out in the arms and legs. He raised a hand at the walls of the Dead City behind him. “Prepare to receive the words of my master!”

Erick waited for someone else to kill the Shade. “That’s a Shade, right?” When no one did, or answered him, he asked Mog, “Want me to [Withering] him?”

“No. That’s not a Shade. You’d know if you saw a Shade.” Mog stepped closer to Erick. “They love their drama. Don’t interrupt yet.”

The great mountainous walls of the Dead City, seven miles away, shifted in hue, the brown and white and grey and orange stone drifting through to black, to grey, to dark brown.

Mog whispered, “That’s a Shade.”

Erick stared.

A deepness took hold in the black on the Dead City’s walls, like someone punching a hole into darkness, and in that darkness there bloomed a white light. One light at first, then two, horizontal from each other, thousands of feet apart, dozens of feet wide. Spur was seven miles away from Ar’Kendrithyst, but the thing that dominated the walls was still intelligible, even through the glowing rain and the vast distance. White expanded, filling with black; the whites were eyes, staring across the land and down at Spur. They were the same kinds of [Scry] eyes Erick had seen before, and so very similar to the very first eye he had seen in the darkness of his first Meditation. But the eyes on the wall were massive; If the walls were a mile high, then those eyes were thousands of feet tall.

Below those eyes there formed a crack of utter darkness; a window to an abyss. The crack moved; a pulsewave of sound blasted out across the sands of the Crystal Forest, to crash against Spur, and the farms.

“Tania greets you, mortal ants! Bow and be spared, stand and be severed.”

22 points of damage ticked off Erick’s [Ward], but not a single person bowed. The people of Spur, having secured and readied themselves, stood tall, chins up, facing the darkness with eyes wide open and mettle in their souls.

Erick muttered, “Oh thank god.”

“Did you think we would ever bow to them?” Mog asked, a smile on her face.

“I didn’t think I'd see a giant face yelling at me for 22 points of damage, either!”

Mog smiled wide at him. “She’s going to want something. Likely from you. But—”

Silverite’s voice carried on the air. “What do you want, Tania Webwalker, Foul Shade of the Dead City?”

Her voice came from above! Erick moved out of the temple, into the rain. Yup. Silverite was standing atop the temple, feet firmly planted on the domed roof, waiting for Tania’s response.

“To gobble you all up, of course! But I am willing to trade for something lesser. The living body of one Jane Flatt, delivered to me, giftwrapped in platinum slave chains. For this small trifle I am willing to spare your hovels and your selves.”

As Tania’s voice ticked for a dozens points here, thirty points there, Erick felt his stomach drop. He felt cold. Tania was going to take Jane. Silverite would let it happen. Maybe even sanction—

“Fuck off, Tania.” Silverite shouted.

Erick never should have doubted Silverite, not even for a second.

The darkened walls of Ar’Kendrithyst rumbled as Tania’s great maw opened and shut. The rumble was low at first, but quickly rose, loud enough to hear like far away demolition, loud enough to drive fear into the hearts of all who listened. Laughter. She was laughing. A sudden peal of joy, louder than her chuckle, came out like an avalanche, thunderous and strong, rolling across the land, a visual wave of pressure heralding its arrival. Rain bent, clouds shredded. Erick felt the temple stones crack and his bones shudder.

386 points of damage rocked across his [Personal Ward].

Erick felt an entirely different sort of drop in his stomach. He was in real danger. He looked right. Jane looked fine. She looked ready for anything. He looked left. Mog looked ready for anything, and also relaxed. All across the fields, people were looking his way; looking at Silverite and Mog, and probably him, too.

He should relax. People were staring, their own [Ward]s either flickering against their skin, or against their domed [Ward]s. Erick tried to relax, knew he failed to be relaxed, but kept trying anyway. Breathing came a bit hard, but as Tania’s laughter struck for another hundred damage, Erick realized he could do something.

… Might be able to do something.

First, he turned off his [Exalted Storm Aura].

Then, he began:

“The air doth still, and vibrate not.

“A cry goes up, but travels till

“it cannot move, save breath and stop.

“A time for rest, put down the quill

“I beg of you, now [Standstill].”

250 mana ripped out of Erick. Out of 750, 250 was nothing, but it still felt awful. Mog caught him as he went to one knee. Poi jabbed him with a rod of [Treat Wounds]. He felt much better as a set of familiar boxes appeared. Some free points from Rozeta, thankfully, as well as the spell description, which showed that he had accomplished what he set out to accomplish.

Stillness 1, instant, 1 hour per level, super long range, 250 mana.

Drop all to the level of a in a super large area for 1 hour.

No ‘Particle Mage Only’, either!

Erick laughed, painfully, as he showed Mog the box, and said, “Thank you, Poi.”

Poi just nodded, then stepped back.

Mog smiled as she held Erick and [Stillness]’s blue box, saying, “That’s gonna take some of the wind from their sails.”

Silverite looked down from atop the temple. “Please stop helping, Erick,” She gazed south, and frowned. “You made her mad.”

Mog complained, “She’s already said her piece, Silverite. You know what always comes next.”

Silverite grumbled, steeling her gaze at the Dead City.

The rain rained itself out, but the air still held some strange solidness. Seven miles away, Tania’s great mouth opened wide. Sound poured out like a bomb, rolling across the land, only to hit thick air, striking with a force that transformed into huge pops of white light, a chain of detonations cascading across the edge of [Stillness]. Tania’s voice was much quieter than before.

“Take that down this instant!”

Silverite yelled, “Fuck you, Tania,” producing her own sonoluminescence reaction; like pops of brief light all around her. She whipped her hands through the air, trying and failing to brush the popping light away.

Erick would have laughed if not for what the shadowman in the fields said next.

“Prepare for bombardment, foolish mortals.”

He vanished in a puff of black.

Silverite said, “Preamble done. Erick. Don’t do anything unless it’s to— Ah. [Withering] that, please.”

Mog saw what Erick could not. “Oh yeah." She pointed. "That needs a [Withering].”

Erick stepped up the temple steps to get a better view. Mog guided him up the stairs, but he hadn’t created a big spell; he was more or less okay. He was not okay when he saw what Mog was pointing at.

A section of Ar’Kendrithyst’s walls, a very tiny portion near the bottom, had opened.

Correction. Three tiny holes had opened. Darkness swamped out to cover the Crystal Forest. From this distance, those ‘tiny holes’ had to be hundreds of feet tall. Whatever was coming out, was the same size as those doors, but along with those monsters came a thin blanket of black, churning up dust as it raced forward, ahead of its larger fellow dark soldiers.

Shaped [Withering].

Shaped [Withering].

Erick dropped two five-foot tall sections of death across the land, covering much of the seven miles separating Spur from the Dead City, the area of effect extending well outside of the direct path from there to Spur. But mostly, he concentrated on covering all the land directly outside of the portals.

Kill notifications started rolling in. Crystal Mimics, of course, as well as other monsters.

Tania started laughing again, which was only slightly confusing; she was an obviously unhinged megalomaniac who could see that her monsters were dying and her noisy attack was nullified. What was highly confusing, was what she did next. Pinpricks of black dropped from the tops of the walls, scattering into the advancing horde, blowing them up like confetti scattered to the wind.

She was killing her own army?

“What the fuck is she doing?” Mog asked.

Good thing Erick wasn’t the only one confused.

Silverite answered, “This wasn’t about us. It never was. She turned on Bulgan.” She leapt down from the temple roof. “What kill notifications are you getting, Erick?”

Thousands of notifications burned across his eyes, but he focused on one, then another, then dismissed the rest, and said, “Wolves. Mimics. There’s one cat.” Another notification popped. “And… Giant?”

Mog said, “Those would be the big ones.”

“She’s clearing out Bulgan’s amassed forces.” Silverite said, “Wolves are easy to control with a few cats and cats attach themselves to Shades like ticks. Giants come next; they’re just a show of power away from winning them to your side.”

Tania, or her people, rained destruction down upon the tide of darkness leaving the city.

And Erick couldn’t see a damned thing. All he saw was a general impression of darkness across the land. Where was Zago when you needed her? Wait! Jane had [Scry]!

Erick turned to Jane, “What do you see, Jane? With [Scry]?”

She said, “Wolves. Some very tall monsters; Giants. So glad we’re not fighting those. I can’t see any cats. They must have run? All I see are… The monsters are just… dying. Thousands of them. Running forward and dying, drying out into husks that are then trampled by the ones still to come, who then die themselves. Where’s Bulgan?”

Silverite said. “Killzone is informing me that Bulgan is attacking Frontier right now.”

Erick immediately said, “I need to help them. I have [Teleport].”

“We already are helping them.” Silverite said, “But. You’re right.” She turned to Mog. “Take him to a good spot in the sky, drop a [Withering], and get out.” She looked to the air, “I’ve just informed their leadership that help is coming and to prepare [Weather Ward]s.”

Mog held out her hand. “Ready? In and out. Turn on your flight aura, we’re popping into the sky.”

Everything was happening so fast. Erick took a moment to think. He didn’t think long. He activated his Handy Aura and took Mog’s thumb; her hand wrapped completely around his.

The world shifted.

Erick and Mog popped into the air high, high above a stone city much like Spur, but smaller, with no farms. The buildings were taller, too. The walls—

Darkness was inside the city; black dots in the streets were attacking other dots wearing brighter clothes. Blots of color bloomed here and there as the defenders sought to destroy the monstrous tide with [Fireball]s and [Force Crash]es and other bright spells. But the place was infested; like fleas in a catlady’s house, or poppy seeds on a bagel, and rat turds in the attic. Here and there, there were dark giants, ripping apart buildings with their bare hands, kicking in walls with their feet, burying people in debris. [Ward]s popped, and people died.

Erick looked toward Ar’Kendrithyst; streamers of monsters poured in from the north. The walls of the Dead City looked much the same from this angle, but there was no face on this side, instead, there was a dark wind, between the human city and Ar’Kendrithyst, heading for Frontier, and also the size of Frontier.

The dark wind was racing, hellbent on destruction, kicking up showers of sand, thumping the air with the sound of massive footsteps, running forward with three giants inside the windy darkness, each of them smaller than the dark figure in the center of the attack formation.

Erick had to help. But…

There’s no way Frontier was ready with [Weather Ward]s.

Mog said, “Bulgan has seen us. Cast your spell where you feel is best. We need to leave.”

The dark wind on the path to Frontier was the same size as Frontier, and it was racing closer. A whistling sliced the air; Mog yanked Erick a hundred yards left, just in time to avoid a non-existent blot on reality a hundred feet wide. Like an invisible meteor, the attack missed Erick and Mog, but the air it displaced still made a sound like a close call with death. If Mog wasn’t here, Erick would have died.

Erick breathed. In and out. He breathed hard. He decided.

Shaped [Withering].

A twenty foot tall [Withering] occupied the city, and some of the lands beyond, covering up to the second story of most houses and a little bit beyond.

Shaped [Withering].

A ten foot layer of death stretched over the invading forces, and all of Bulgan’s path, clipping into the dark, monstrous wind. Giants tripped, Bulgan yelled, a blast of force—

The world shifted again, and Erick was on the temple steps. Desert winds had pushed aside the last remnants of his [Exalted Storm Aura], revealing green fields and an entranced audience.

Ahead of him, Tania destroyed Bulgan’s forces, while Spur watched.

A hundred miles away, monsters died.

Erick prayed his [Withering] didn’t kill anyone it wasn’t supposed to kill. But when a notification for Human A, 1% Participation, came rolling in, he couldn’t do anything but stare at the fleeting clouds. When Human B, 1%, came in, he was already numb to the world.

Silverite was beside him. Mog and Jane, too. Jane sat holding Erick, and he was glad for her company. Jane and Mog and Silverite talked, but Erick couldn’t hear their words, all he could do was stare at the kill boxes for Human A, and Human B.

A and B! How about that. Not even a name.

How…

How awful.

After a while, twenty minutes, maybe an hour, long after Tania finished off the rest of Bulgan’s forces and yelled some inane threat, Silverite’s voice carried on the air, “Spur has repelled the attack, and Frontier has routed their horde. Bulgan flees back to Ar’Kendrithyst.” White bubbles popped around her face.

The farmers, and all of Spur had been watching this entire time; from behind walls, from under [Ward]s. Now, they cheered, and the sound was still subject to Erick’s [Stillness]. Popping bubbles of light filled the land like tiny firecrackers. He would have laughed, but instead he just dismissed the spell, and the sounds of a cheering city rolled across the land.

Erick tried to feel good about the battle, but he couldn’t.

“A few monsters got through Erick’s [Withering] and Tania’s cleanup,” Mog said. She had been directing the adventurer response from Erick’s side all this while. “But my kids killed them all. A few hundred wolves and three giants. Nothing much.”

“Dad.” Jane put a hand on Erick’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“Two humans dead, Jane. I did that. I murdered them.”

Jane moved her hands in front of Erick’s eyes. “Put them away, Dad. Now.”

Erick willed the boxes away, but he knew he would pick them up again later.

He asked Silverite. “Is Frontier saying anything?”

Silverite stood strong, and said, “Frontier was already infested with shadowcats; they’re lucky they didn’t get routed in the first minutes of the fight. The final death counts will come in the following days, but they lost thousands. They would have lost one hundredthousand, if you didn’t drop that [Withering] on the city. 2 people dead is a tactical loss that any commander would be happy to hear, Archmage Flatt.” She looked out across the Crystal Forest. “I expected at least a thousand deaths in Spur whenever Bulgan got it into his foul head to attack, but you’re incredible. You turned back two tides of darkness, and even nullified a Shade’s [Force wave].” She stared at Erick. “Prepare yourself. You’re our new deterrent.”

“Ohhh.” Erick felt something break inside. “Don’t… Don’t say that.”