Chapter 17

The 9-day trip home seemed to take months. A steadily growing dread fueled by not infrequent new unpleasant reports. Or rather the same report in many ways over and over again. Large scale migrations encompassing various thresholds in a way the early Mongolians would have been proud of. Not so much sieging as simply existing in the area.

Existing in sufficiently large numbers to block all travel. And that took some serious doing.

Humans are adaptable. Take away the ground and the water would beckon. If water is not available or already occupied then maybe it's time to become arboreal.

But they currently had cats and jumping dinosaurs in the trees with hogs and wolves on the ground all rolled up with a side of rat tide and the occasional river shark pack. Hell, even birds of prey were waiting overhead for anyone attempting an Icarus.

In time, just so long as mole men didn’t come into play, he quickly crossed his fingers, the underground labyrinthian connections would be ready.

In time.

Time they might not have.

“You want to explain that one to us, Brother?”

Spotted about a large table at Paradise were the usual suspects. Arthur, stone-faced and sitting at attention. Da with Ma leaning against him, her petite frame almost disappearing into his much more massive shape. Her slightly fading but still bright red hair shouted out her presence. Nature's warning signs came in many varieties, but bright colors were definitely one of them.

Kevin sat a step-down, playing with his marbles. No, Timothy mentally shook his head, Kevin didn’t like it when they were called marbles. Planets he insisted. Better than a tarot deck, Timothy mused, but with much the same purpose.

The three ninja turtle-named brothers were kicking back a spot down from Kevin. Lounging on their chairs with the long-bodied limpid grace of the east coast old money, or rather of those they aped it from. British aristos. The vibrant blood-colored leather armor didn’t detract from that image. Just threw it back from modern gentleman to warlord of old. William of the conquering vintage would be proud.

Throw in Lotsee and her husband on the other side of the table decked out in their own version of armor. Feathers, bone beads, and artistically dyed robes. Then round out the hand with the Binder. It was hard to think of the 6’6”, 220 lb muscly man carrying a sword Conan would have been proud of as Darold. Black hair and innocuous brown eyes rounded out a face well lined with guilt.

Deserved guilt as well. Only about half of his hold’s initial 500-ish people survived. One of the pathfinders found a dead-end to his path early and exploded. The other was a gardener. An impressive gardener that did a smash bang-up job of keeping the town fed. But so far hadn’t managed to create thorn spitting plants or lashing vines. Just as well. Plants like that might not stay owned. Unfortunately, that left the defense on ‘Darolds’ shoulders. And Darold had been a bit of an idiot.

His chosen magic allowed him to bind an object to a person. If life was in a video game he would have called it a soul-bound weapon. The resulting swords, spears, and the occasional club were indeed magical. Able to punch through a hog's motion absorption and occasionally warn their wielders that some invisible cat or snake was poking around. It made wooden swords supernaturally sharp and clubs delivered shockwaves of energy.

What it didn’t do was make getting into melee range with creatures much larger and massively heavier any more survivable. Sure they could, and did, kill many beasts. But they paid far too much for it. The fact that he’d managed to keep anyone alive was impressive and went to show that the man was a badass.

But dumbass went along with it.

Thankfully even a stubborn old dog can learn new tricks. And despite the foolishness of his original path, the tricks he could pull off were doozies. Soul bindings were one of the vital pillars that allowed the thresholds to work. Throw in the ability to link a guardian to their favorite enchantment or focus and he was damn useful to have around. Especially when the hot-headed ideas about swinging a sword gloriously in battle had long since been pounded out of him.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, Brother Brotherhood. I’ve said an awful lot.”

Regi threw him an annoyed glance, but Timothy just grinned. A bit of levity was needed when times got dark. “Why don’t we have time, smartass?”

“Language!” Ma piped in, sitting up to glare at Regi.

He waved a quick hand in apology but didn’t drop eye contact with Timothy.

“Ahh, that part. We’ve had quite a bit of time to work on this, but the measures I have available do have some flaws.”

“What do you mean? You’ve had time to work on this?” Binder broke in, incredulously.

“I mean we have had well over 2 years. This was a predictable danger and we have not been lazy about making preparations.”

A bit angrily he leaned over the table to fix Timothy with his own stare “Saying it’s predictable doesn’t help me a whole lot! How did you know this was coming and why didn’t I know?”

Kevin sighed, spinning his ‘planets’ up from the table to hover in vaguely solar system esque rotations. “He is calling it predictable because I predicted it. And you did know. I sent around a few warning plaques. Not my fault if you didn’t read them.” He paused then added with a bit of a bite to his voice. “Or if they got ignored after nothing happened for a few days.”

The two of them did not get along. The Binder may have learned his lesson about charging a horde of beasts, but he remained a hopelessly direct man. Prophecy’s and indirect influence might not have been kryptonite to him, but it was a close thing. In turn, Kevin wouldn’t know how to be direct and concise even if held at gunpoint. The man waxed eloquent about his morning squashmeal and couldn’t say the sun was rising without using two full sentences.

“I looked into the rising and falling of the planets, the colors of mars and the impact of aggression vs the more gentle light of Venus and the harsh truth of the moon. I plumbed the depths of the star's connection and divined the coming of large waves of beasts. Not merely the standard beast waves we have all learned to love. But a drawing in of the tide itself.”

“Really?” The Binder looked ready to hurl.

“No.” Timothy could have sworn he heard Jackass added to the denial. “In this case, some common sense mixed in with a basic understanding of beasts was enough. Our frequent culling of any high-tier beasts in the river lowlands has created a vacuum. None of the beasts would be strong enough to protect the territory they hold if they lived outside our borders. That’s not a complaint. We must be the dominant predator in our territory. And we are... Mostly. But-”

“Mostly?” Binder broke in. He really was asking for a beating today. Timothy cringed, that was clearly a trap and he joyfully dived into it face first.

“By all means, take your He-man sword and go fuck up a d-” Kevin paused, visibly restraining himself under a table full of glares, in a more subdued voice he continued “ a large flying reptile.” And he had been doing so well. Irrepressible as he was, the subdued tone faded fast. “I’ll take a T-Rex head while you're at it. Or survive a couple days in the deepwater off Porta La Boca Hold.”

Saved from humiliation by Kevin's own misstep, do not name dragons, not unless you wanted an intimate meeting, Binder wisely kept his mouth shut. He wasn't a stupid man really, just a bit overly direct at times.

“Anyway, nature abhors a vacuum. We’ve always known that. And unfortunately despite our nigh-apex predator stature-” He offered Binder a nod, his point had been made, no need to push their relationship any lower than it already was. “- we don’t have the numbers or ability to maintain a presence. It was inevitable that sooner or later higher tier beasts from unculled areas would start to bleed in.”

Binder grimaced, “Sorry, I do remember those discussions. It’s why we ginned up the Thresholds. I just expected a few high-tiered packs wandering in, not ten thousand beasts moving in and setting up shop!”

Timothy sighed, “We didn’t either. But what we prepared is still holding strong. First-tier is, as you mentioned, the thresholds. They’re holding strong. Despite the numbers, they are simply cut off from us. Not directly threatened. Not yet. And that brings us to the second preparation.“ He nodded to Mike.

Taking up the narrative, the tall slim but muscular blonde (the black hair dye had long since run out and even Timothy was beginning to grow tired of teasing him on the subject.) leaned forward to steeple his hands on the table. “We have a ritual room setup back home. It’s been reinforced and updated regularly- thank you, Timothy-”

“Happy to help.”

“-and it's ready to be activated at any time. But while it will be somewhat expensive to keep running, we might need some help on the blood collection, I don’t understand Timothy’s comments about lacking time. With enough blood, and between us we can manage that, it should be something we can keep up indefinitely.”

Timothy allowed his head to slip down to gently bonk on the table surface. “Et tu Orange Blood Bro? I explained how that spell worked when we set it up together!”

He looked around, seeing most of the table now nodding in understanding. Understanding should be good, so why does it feel like the other shoe is about to drop.

“Son, you ‘explained’ it... That doesn’t mean that anyone else understood. Most people's eyes glaze over and they wait to hear what you need. Trusting that you will make it work.”

Grinding his teeth Timothy took a deep breath before responding. “-I’m not unaware of the problem, Da. But I don’t think the rest of you appreciate how much of a problem it really is.” Frustration tinged his tone despite his best efforts. “These spells are not just black boxes with big red buttons! They require understanding to be properly used!”

“Fine, fine-” He placatingly gestured for Timothy to sit back down. Odd since Timothy hadn't realized he was on his feet. He complied, getting his tone and emotions back under control with difficulty. “-why don’t you explain it to us all again then. If you try to keep it simple and understandable we’ll try not to tune you out.” The twinkle in his eyes removed some of the sting from his comments, but not all of it.

Taking a few moments to run through some breathing exercises he reinforced the artificial calm. If he didn't like the results, and he most certainly did not, then change them. He made a mental note to spend a bit more time in the future on his explanations so this farce didn't occur quite so often. He didn't kid himself that he could avoid it entirely. There were always people out there who were incapable of listening, no matter how well he expressed himself. In the meantime, deep breaths. Deep Breaths. Calm.

“Ok, let's try again. The spell we carved out is tied into and powered by the blood pools, the main ones at Bloodhaven and the minor ones at each threshold. We had to do it that way to keep it running all the time. It’s too big a spell, covering the entirety of the trade union like it does, for a single person, or a quartet of Cardea for that matter, to hold. Both for mental energy expended and for mana. Every quartet out there helps to maintain it, along with the normal wards of the threshold. Now, I shouldn’t need to remind you-” But if he didn’t someone would definitely have forgotten. “- but words, names especially, matter. We call them thresholds and their guardians Cardea, for a reason. They are the doorways, the thresholds, over which guests may enter our territory and their keepers the guardians of the threshold. If you don’t use the doorways, then you are like a thief in the night. Thieves are afraid of the owners of a house. If they were not then they would simply bash in the door and invade, rather than slink."

"This is not their home and they do not belong here. Home is a very powerful concept, as is the tradition of the invited guests and even old-world thresholds were said to prevent the access of creatures of the night. At least until invitations were offered. No offense to our own wannabe nosferatu.” He ignored the cheerfully offered middle finger from Rafael and continued, “Tying the spell into existing stories, concepts and beliefs makes it massively more powerful. The result is a suppression field over any uninvited guests. The suppression is larger the higher tier the sneak is. An early Tier three should be dropped to the lower end of Mid Tier 2 for example.” It was a bit of a guess at this point, they hadn't needed to run it for real yet, but it should be about right.

Oscar leaned forward to interject. “I would think stronger beasts could resist it more, why does it work the other way?”

“The short answer is intelligence. The spell makes the uninvited feel that lack of an invitation. The smarter they are, the more they can feel and imagine what that feeling is from. The suppression is not forced upon them, it’s a subtle rejection based on their own reactions to the spell. Feeling alien, they reject the local magic field, being rejected the field reacts by rejecting them in turn. If the creature is dumb enough, then it might lack the imagination to be affected at all.”

He paused looking at Oscar, to see if that answered his question. Oscar gestured for him to continue. Not quite the lightbulb over the head moment of understanding that he’d hoped for, but it would have to do. “Now I’m simplifying the hell out of this for you, so trust me that there are a number of refinements and various magical levers added in to provide more oomph for the same amount of fuel. That said, I can finally get to the time issue. The beasts that were born here are not suppressed by the spell. This is their home too. And how long does it take for a full generation of hogs to grow up?”

Binder sighed, “A year?”

Timothy nodded “It might be slightly longer than that, but close enough. The thing is, once you’ve had children, and raised them on the produce of the land. Possibly buried family in the same soil. Then you are no longer an alien. It’s now your home too. For humans that might take a while. For hogs? We’ll have to see. But I don’t suggest waiting for it. Before that day comes we need to kill as many of the high-tier beasts as we possibly can. We won't be alone in that pursuit. The local beasts, culled down though they are will be an enormous help. Their power may be suppressed, but the amount of magic in their blood isn't. They are feasts on the hoof for the locals. Of course, those feasts might create a few unsuppressed homegrown high-tiers if we fart around too much. That's why we don’t have time to simply sit and wait in our fortresses.”

He let them chew on that for a bit, taking the time to stand up and get himself a cup of water from the spread laid out on a sideboard. He wasn’t even back to his chair when the questions began.

Rafe started it off. “You said if they don’t go through the thresholds they are an uninvited guest. What happens if they overrun the threshold?”

“Then they came through a valid door and no suppression happens.”

“The hell? Why would you add a loophole to the spell like that?” Mike stared at him in disbelief.

Timothy sighed, glancing about for a bit he reached over and grabbed a walking stick from a bucket by the door. It was a nice piece, if more functional than anything else. Well polished and peeled but unstained.

“Let's say, just pretend for my sake, that I offered you this staff of power, “He ignored the snort from Oscar, it was his walking stick after all. “I told you that bear it forth and smite the herds of beasts and they will die. Would you believe me?”

Various variations on “Hell no!” smacked into him to his amusement. He focused for a minute, shaping his intent into a piece of polished quartz hanging from his belt. Building the illusion with care, he slid it around the staff. Adding a regal-looking purple gem to the top, bound in place by a double swirl of wood that crept up branch-like to embrace the stone. The staff itself grew more polished and lined with impressive-looking, but magically inert, runes. A bit of effort extended his aura to surround the staff, giving it the presence expected of a powerful object, if not the performance.

“How about now?”

“No!” Regi snorted, “We saw you change it just now.”

“Come on, give me a break, I can hardly just pull out something real in ten seconds. A bit of suspension of disbelief please?”

“Fine, let's say it was real. It looks impressive but I’m still not buying it. If it was that powerful, not even you would simply walk in here and hand it over.”

“Exactly! But what if I put it out in the jungle somewhere. Behind a sealed gate that required a series of difficult, dangerous, and tedious tasks to open. Things like collecting a bottle of blood from an alpha of 9 predatory species after fighting your way through the depths of the jungle?” He didn't give them time to object. There was always some joker in the audience ready to disagree for disagreement's sake. Proper showmanship controlled that kind of thing and while he was no professional stage magician, he was learning to hum a few bars. “After a long painful quest that took effort and sacrifice you’d start to believe it wouldn’t you? The funny thing is that if we set it up that way, with a long painful quest and spread the existence of the quest to the populace it would probably make even this walking stick an object of power.”

He took another drink from his water cup, giving it a moment to sink in.

“So just belief would turn a stick into a weapon of great power?” Binder, Timothy was not surprised to hear, broke in incredulously.

“There is nothing ’just’ about belief Binder. Belief alone is incredibly powerful but it is not alone in this case. The build-up of belief is magnified by the buildup of narrative. It tells a consistent story. A story is meaning and intent given size and scope. The building blocks of magic writ large. Throw in the sacrifices and costs the quest might require of its ‘hero’ and the results will be spectacular. They will also probably require quite a few lives. It has to be a hard enough quest to validate the power of the reward. For an object of great power that means hard enough that someone, or quite a few someones, will die in the attempt.”

“Assuming that's true, Runes, and I am not going to bet against you. What does it have to do with leaving the thresholds as loopholes in your suppression spell?” Lotsee broke in.

“It's the same thing. Here is the narrative. Our brave defenders hold the choke points in our defenses. Their blood sweat and courage hold the bottlenecks that keep us all safe. If they take our fortresses, then they can poor on in unaffected. If they don’t take them, they remain suppressed.”

He paused and tried again, seeing some confusion still. “I can’t make an invincible armor. I’m not sure if it will ever be possible but I am sure that no one wants it to be. At least no one who would not be directly wearing it. Think of Achilles. Even the gods had to leave him his heel. It's almost required. It's a narrative device that is so embedded in our minds that it has its own sort of power. You can make the rest of something stronger as long as you leave a loophole. An Achilles heel. That's the nature of where narrative, expectations, and belief cross ways.”

The silence lingered in the room for a time. Even on people who already knew about the spell. Kevin and the blood bro’s had been instrumental in setting the damn thing up.

It was perhaps more depressing than the invasion news. Why did no one listen when he explained things?

With a sigh, he started to stand. Let them think it through. He had far too much work to do to just sit here and wait.

“A moment Timothy. “ Arthur stopped him, halfway up. “While the time limit is important, and it needed explaining, it still doesn’t address the elephant in the room. The vacuum, as you call it, has been there for years. We’ve had a steady stream of small packs approaching the thresholds in all that time. What changed to make the speed of the invasion exponentially rise? Or phrased another way, what is nasty enough to push this many creatures into abandoning their homes?”

Well Fuck.