Chapter 1.15

Karson

Finally, I had time and mana to work with. I hardly knew where I wanted to start. But there were a few things that needed to happen first, to get some basic practicalities out of the way. I had been studying the Atlantean chest I’d picked up, and found a great many complex enchantments to learn from, and I wanted to put them into practice.

I settled into a corner of the mud shack using a pile of crates as a makeshift desk. I tossed my jerkin aside and folded my traveling cloak underneath me as a cushion. I missed the crappy, twenty year old desk chair that was at my desk in the classroom. It had a squeaky wheel and wobbled precariously if you leaned in a particular direction, but it was mostly comfortable. Strange the things you miss, and what you don’t.

The chest was in front of me, opened so that I could examine the spellworks from the inside. The Atlantean magic was distinctive in design. The enchantments were built in pieces, like independent circuits or modules that connected to each other via wires of gold inlaid into the wood. I could see how this could be advantageous. Each module could be inscribed individually, allowing more complexity and a strong enchantment into each one. Each module was also covered in tightly engraved Atlantean runes that glowed with eldritch power. This indicated that the casters couldn’t see magic like I could, so carefully laid runes helped build the spell, rather than weaving the components ad hoc and inscribing them like I did. It would take much longer that way, but probably had far fewer failures when trying something new or even from simply being tired and making a mistake.

It kind of reminded me of early computers, where giant rooms full of huge, simplistic components connected to each other via wires wrapped around posts. Sure, they might have only been able to do simple arithmetic, but the potential was amazing. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what these Atlanteans would come up with after a few centuries of research and development.

Regardless of my impression, their work was brilliant and far beyond my own abilities. I could definitely take cues, however, and adapt their knowledge with my style, or lack thereof. My own crude attempts at enchanting may have compared poorly, but I was a fast learner. I could see how the wards interacted with the physical world, and it gave me a ton of ideas about how to proceed. The reinforcement spell was particularly valuable, as was the ward against dispelling. The protection from physical harm could be adapted, too.

I opened one of the blank journals and began to take detailed notes. I was careful about being thorough with my note taking, because every scrap of paper was invaluable, and I couldn’t waste any of it with cryptic shorthand or doodles. I made a mental note to have Ax conjure me a thin slate chalkboard and some chalk.

After I’d observed all I could from the chest, it was time to start making improvements. I removed my health ring and cast a dispel on it. With the mana I could bring to bear now, the enchantment dispelled with depressing ease. I needed something more adaptable, and able to link to multiple mana sources. Ax had told me how his ring had healed his minor burns with the same priority as his concussion. I had to fix that.

Puzzling out an improved enchantment took a lot more time than the hasty first attempt I’d thrown together before. I built it in modules much like the Atlanteans, but didn’t rely on the mana wiring to put it all together. The spell emphasized stopping external bleeding and head wounds first, followed by internal injuries. Burns, bruises and broken bones were the lowest on the priority list. In the end, I had to envision as many common injuries I could come up with, and run them through a logic test to ensure that the spell could at least stabilize the injury, even if it couldn’t heal it. I added a module to ward against dispels, and a basic reinforcement to protect the ring from damage. Damage to the ring could destroy the enchantment, or at least the module inscribed where the damage occured. I built an intent control on top of it, so that the wearer could direct the healing. As an afterthought, I added a prophylactic effect as well. I didn’t tie it to the intent control. To stop that, I’d have to remove the ring, which would be a very deliberate choice.

I finished weaving the spell and began to inscribe it into the ring. When it was finished, I put it on and immediately felt refreshed. I then moved on to a new spell. The ward against physical damage on the chest gave me an idea about how to create a magic barrier or shield against blows. Considering just the injuries from the past week, and we hadn’t faced anything more than a handful of raiders or an unprepared group of archers, this would be essential.

From my pouch, I took out a handful of gold rings that Ax had made for me. I hadn’t enchanted gold before, but considering the differences between copper and silver, I thought it might hold the enchantments better. It was fairly obvious that materials mattered. I began weaving a spell to create a bubble of armor around the wearer that would catch blows but still allow normal interaction with the world. The mechanics were quite complex, and without the chest’s ward as a guide, I’d never have figured it out. But when I went to inscribe the ring, the ring slipped from my hands. I tried to catch it, but it bounced off the crate and onto the floor a few feet away. Trying to hold the spell weave, I fumbled for the ring. I stubbed a finger while groping, but got the ring in my grasp.

Once I got it back, I saw that the weave had frayed and was precariously tilting towards unraveling. With a sigh, I released the spell. It unraveled swiftly, leaving me back at square one. I looked down at the offending ring in annoyance. Then it hit me, and I looked back over at where the ring had been on the floor. It was several feet away, but I had been able to bend over just slightly to grab it. I bent over to touch the spot where the ring had been, next to a bag of grain. It was a long stretch that I could barely reach from where I was sitting, not a short grab like I had done. I had bent space to reach it, and frayed my spell in the process.

Before I got myself excited, I went ahead and finished two of the armor rings. I couldn’t let myself go off on tangents, a discipline I’d learned the hard way while in college and used to good effect while teaching. I slipped on one of the rings, and felt a hum of energy swirl into existence around me. I could see a faint blue outline of the bubble around me. I played around with bringing it closer to my skin, finally satisfied when the bubble outlined my body two inches away.

I tossed a coin on the ground, and focused on reaching the coin without stretching to pick it up. I saw a glimmer of magic as space warped. It was like looking through thick curved glass, with the coin in perfect focus and the space around it bowed in like it had been compressed. I picked up the coin easily.

If I could master this effect, could I make a bag or a crate hold more than it should? How would it affect weight? Could I make a bubble of space that simply attached to a door, like a tiny pocket dimension? What would happen if that door broke?

I needed to test. I went and collected a few bricks from Ax’s brickmaker machines. Back in the hut, I found two bags roughly the same in size. I then wove a new spell, that would expand the space inside the bag. I wasn’t sure how much extra space I’d get, but it was worth a try. The fabric didn’t hold the spell well, requiring a long time to push the enchantment into the fibers. When it finally finished, I looked inside the bag.

Inside the bag, the fibers seemed much larger, and the space much roomier. I put one of the bricks into it. When I looked in, the brick seemed normally sized against the abnormally large threads of wool. But the bag didn’t feel like it had a brick in it. It felt empty, in fact. It didn’t bulge at all. I put a brick in the other bag just for obvious comparisons, and it felt like a bag with a brick in it. I could fit maybe five or six more in, but they would tear through the fabric.

I cast the enchantment again on the other bag with the brick inside. This time, when I opened the bag, not only were the fibers much larger, so was the brick. So the spell warped whatever was inside the spell to make more space. Whatever was inside kept shape and form in proportion to the spell, so this bag had less space.

Then I decided to pull the brick out. The minute the brick passed the mouth of the bag, it shattered and the bag shredded. Bits of brick hit the mage armor protecting me at very high velocities, and a lound bang resounded as the spell explosively unraveled. Then the backlash hit, bypassing the shield and giving me an instant mana headache. It felt like the brain freeze you get from eating too much ice cream.

It took me a few minutes to realize that I’d turned a working spell inside out. It was the magical equivalent of a short circuit. I’d made parts of a live spell connect to parts that should never have touched. Bits of slate were embedded in the crates all around me. I wondered if I could use that to make grenades. No, I didn’t need more projects right now.

The door to the shack opened.

“Are you alive in here?” came Ax’s voice.

“All good!” I called back.

The door slammed closed as he left. The thought about grenades made me realize I needed to do something to ease my spellcasting. Casting took too much time to get off more than one or two spells in combat. I was beginning to realize that if I were to be able to make full use of my abilities, I’d have to enchant some weapons. But that would be a problem for after dinner. The light was waning and I was hungry.

The next morning, I woke early and got back to work. I had Ax re-work my bracers with overlapping bronze plates, since the original metal strips were poorly enchanted iron. I cast strong reinforcement enchantments and wards on them, and tied them to the geothermal mana pump. I wasn’t sure the range on it, but I was fairly certain that it would reach across town, at a minimum. I’d have to build some pretty hefty batteries soon, to hold us offer as we traveled.

I then tied in the acid spell and the strength sapping spell. Both were very handy in combat. They were both directional spells, so I made it so that it would cast at whatever target I was pointing at. Actually casting the spell would require my intention, as well. I then spent some time working out a few safeguards and ways to prevent accidentally triggering it. The bracers would automatically disarm if I removed them, or if I fell asleep. Once they were finished, I strapped them on for testing. I wandered down to the woods, and found an old stump. I pointed at it, and triggered the acid spell. The spell flew across the distance and acid began to bubble across the stump, eating away at the rotting wood. I tried with the other hand, with the same result.

I tried from different distances until I was able to determine the range. I could hit a target from fifty feet away, which was pretty helpful. I also tried rapid-firing the spell, and found that I could cast roughly every two seconds.

“That is very impressive,” said Zahra. “I have not seen a mage who can wield such powerful spells so swiftly. Is it an artifact you use?”

“I enchanted these bracers with the spell,” I said. “I tied it to a power source, which gives the item the power it needs.”

“Ah,” she said. “Do you mind if I watch?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “But I was just finishing.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, disappointed.

“I don’t mind sitting and talking with you for awhile,” I said. “To be honest, I’m due for a break and wouldn’t mind the company.”

She brightened at that. Her dark red hair was tied back in a tight braid today, and she’d left the armor and thick fur cloak behind, in deference to the heat of the late morning. She wore her leggings and the long sleeved tunic, which wrapped around her torso to form a v-neck. I could see a shift of some sort underneath it, covering her to her neck. In the distance I saw her bodyguards, close enough to be of assistance but far enough away to allow private conversation.

“That would be pleasant.”

I pulled out the waterskin I’d brought with me, and offered it to her. She drank a few mouthfuls, possibly out of courtesy, and handed it back. I drank deeply, still not accustomed to the heat.

“So what brings you all the way to this part of the world? That can’t be a short journey, even for a sklotoi.”

“That is possibly the politest ‘why are you here’ I have ever heard,” she said with a smile. I liked her smile, it suited her.

“I was just trying to make conversation,” I protested. “We all have our reasons for where we are.”

“I have no choice,” she said. “I have to be here.”

“Why?”

“What do you know of Oracles?” she asked.

“That they receive visions of the future, and some are cursed to never be believed,” I said.

“You already know more than most. Those who are chosen as Oracles by the gods also have their own Fate. But an Oracle who refuses to accept their Fate becomes cursed. Every word that comes from their mouth is thought to be a lie, not just their Visions.”

“So you follow your fate, so that you are not cursed. If you were cursed, no one would ever believe you again. And your fate is to be here?”

“Yes,” she said. “I have had Visions of helping you and your brother.”

“And how can you do that?”

“Like all Oracles, my gift is information. Sometimes it is helpful, sometimes it isn’t. But even with a Vision, I’ve noticed most people do not have the fortitude to rise above the fate dictated by the gods.”

“How do you mean?”

“I was in a town on my journey. A drunken man stumbled out of a public house and ran into me. I could See that he was going to assault a woman down the street. Her angry husband would then beat him to death.” Zahra paused to collect her thoughts.

I nodded encouragingly.

“I told him of his fate. He decided he would try to accost me instead. I tried to convince him to listen to me about his fate, but he continued to try and grab me. Antiope grew tired of his boorish attempts, and slew him on the spot.”

“Sounds like he got what he deserved,” I said.

“No doubt,” she said. “But he also would not even think of changing.”

“So fate is determined by the gods, but sufficient willingness to change and adapt can allow you to escape your fate?”

“Essentially,” she said. “What point is an Oracle’s gift if it is only a prophecy of what must happen? It’s a vision of what could happen. It shows you what the gods themselves believe will happen, and they are usually right.”

“And you see everyone’s fate? Just by touching them?”

“To some degree or another,” she said. “Sometimes I see a lot, sometimes I see very cryptic visions. I almost always see their end.”

“That must be difficult,” I said. “To have horrible visions of your loved ones, even from something so casual.”

She was silent for a long few minutes. I had just started to think I might have offended her, when she said, “It is impossible. Ever since I was a child, I’ve never known the comfort of an embrace.”

“That must be…”

“Lonely,” she admitted softly. Then she shook herself and said in a louder tone, “anyway, I know you seek war against the Cult of Kronos, yet know not where to start.”

“That’s pretty much the gist of it. We’ve been scrambling to not die for the last two weeks or so. The only clue we had was from Prometheus, directing us to the Great Temple where we met you. We know next to nothing about the Cult. I figured out that they are trying to establish anchors for Kronos in other worlds.”

“That is grave news,” she said. “Few dabble in the affairs of gods, for the punishments for such things are quite… extreme. But fanatics cannot be swayed by fear of such fates. Kronos and his Titans have never sought the worship of men. The fae courts and the underdwellers favor them, as do the sea peoples. But Zeus and his ilk have learned from Ra and his pantheon about how to gain strength and advantage from having a broad following. It has given them strength to rival even Kronos himself.”

“So how did Kronos wind up with his own cult?”

“Kronos is crafty. He fears death more than anything, and fears Zeus is fated to slay him as he slew his father Uranus. Gaia hates him for locking away her monstrous children and enslaving the Great Beasts, and mankind breeds like rabbits, giving Zeus more strength. His gambit is to steal away followers and slaughter those who will not support him. The dead only strengthen Erebrus, the Titan of Darkness and Death.”

“Can we find the Cult in Tekmon?”

“No, they are few and far from here. I have foreseen Axerios fighting them near Iolcus. They hide in the city, but their stronghold is hidden, and shielded against divination. I cannot foresee anything of it,” she said. While she spoke, she had glowed with magic. The magic dimmed as she finished.

“I think your gift is a curse, no matter if you follow fate or not,” I said.

Her eyes brimmed with tears for a moment, but she blinked them away. The Royal Saka persona she wore slipped back into place. “I do as I must. My people were born the strongest of the Skolotoi, and my mother is their Queen. Her blood helps me to bear even this terrible burden.”

I leaned over and caressed her cheek, much as she had done to me in the Temple. “You don’t need to do it alone. You are among friends now.”

She looked shocked at the touch, so I leaned back. Then she gave a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

Behind her, I saw Xene coming down the hill towards the guards. I nodded in her direction, to give Zahra warning. Zahra stood and fussed with her clothing, straightening her tunic and composing herself.

“Lord Karsos? Lord Axieros requests your help,” called Xene.