[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]

“Look on the bright side,” Tem tells me an hour later, speaking with far more cheer than the situation calls for. “This is an even better mana-control exercise than I thought it would be.”

I pause in my efforts to freeze off the lock and give him a flat stare. We’d wolfed down some of Tem’s rations, including an energy bar that accelerates mana regeneration, then waited until I’d recovered sufficient mana to activate [Heat Manipulation]. I’m sweating with the effort of directing heat away from the door, but I still can’t drop the temperature cold enough to shatter the locking mechanism like I’d planned. There’s something strangely mana-resistant about the greyish-blue metal that I can’t quite pierce with my Skill, and I’m starting to lose my patience.

“Well? Hurry up,” Tem chides. He’s starting to get antsy, pacing two or three steps either way, pivoting, and repeating his truncated circuit. The light from his little mana torch bobs and weaves next to him, giving me a headache as I try to focus on the task at hand.

I groan and lean my head against the smooth stone wall next to the door. “You said I’d enjoy the fruits of my labor more if I earned it. You said it shouldn’t take more than a moment or two, if I put my mind to it. Hmph! I should have known better.”

Tem laughs sheepishly. “The principle is sound. No one could have known how long it would take you.”

“Couldn’t you just use a high-level [Expert Scout] ability to infiltrate? Why do you always have to make me do things the hard way?”

“Hm. Probably not, given its durability,” Tem admits. “I’d have to break the lock to get us inside, and that defeats the purpose of stealth. What if it’s alarmed?”

I crane my neck and look at him over my shoulder, my face all scrunched up. “You’re that afraid of this Captain?”

Tem nods solemnly, surrounded by the glowing halo of the mana torch. And beyond that, nothing but darkness. “Remember the wraith lord? He’s like an under-officer to the Captains.”

“That makes no sense,” I complain. “Who comes up with these rankings? Are they just making it up as they go?”

“Certainly sounds like it,” Tem says. He glances both ways down the dark corridor as a sheen of mana covers his eyes. “Regardless, they’re not to be messed with. If we do encounter one, I may be able to delay him while you flee, but it’s not a sure thing.”

“Aren’t you an expert assassin?” I blurt out.

“That’s a common misconception since I’m good at neutralizing enemy [Mages], but no, I’m not primarily a killer. Most of my Skills are focused on not leaving a trace, ferreting out spies, or tracking a target of interest.”

“I saw you blast apart those wraiths,” I say with an accusatory tone.

“I can do things that most people can’t,” Tem admits.

“But?” I prompt. “There’s always a but.”

“If I do it, then I’m just about drained. I won’t have . . . my abilities . . . for a fight. Do you really want to take that risk?”

I look at the annoyingly-resilient lock on the door, then back at Tem. With a great force of will, I bite my tongue before I say something stupid. Tem is helping me out, and I’ve been prickly at every turn—he doesn’t really deserve it.

“You’re right. I’ll do my best,” I promise. I buckle back down to work, watching the flows of energy with my [Lesser Manasight] activated. Yet no matter how much I pour into the lock, the door seems to devour it, like the maw of a ravenous void beast. I keep working on the lock, no matter how stubborn the metal is against the cold, and mana spools out of me at an alarming pace. I’m so lost in thought that I flinch and fail to stifle a scream when Tem taps my shoulder.

“Listen, Nuri, you’ve given it a good try,” Tem says. The praise sounds a bit awkward, as though it’s hard for him to get out. “You’re almost out of mana, though, and we’ve been here for half an hour. Why don’t you take a break? As I said, I have another method I can try. It’s messy, but effective.”

“You’ve convinced me already,” I say, chuckling as I scoot to the side. I flop down in the dust of the tunnel floor, feeling like a wrung-out dishrag. Tem is welcome to take charge

Tem waves me back a little farther, puts his hand on the door handle, and blasts a hole as big as my two fists clenched together right through both the lock and the handle. Drops of sizzling metal run down the side of the doorframe like melting wax trailing down a candle.

“Subtle and elegant solution, just like me,” he says, hooking his sword through the hole in the door and swinging it open. “Behold the wealth of princes!” Tem booms, gesturing grandly.

I rush forward, giddy at the thought of treasure. Heavy-duty, metal stands designed for weapons hold heavy halberds gilt in gold, standing vertically in an array like soldiers at attention. On a table near me, a bundle of flanged maces made of some dark metal I don’t recognize warp the light. I shudder just looking at them, and I turn away in case they’re actually dangerous to my senses. A dozen crossbows without any discernible winch or arming mechanism hang on the wall above the maces.

“Who uses all these weapons?” I ask as a thought strikes me.

Tem’s jolly demeanor fades, replaced by the cold, efficient professionalism of a longtime royal [Scout]. “Labyrinths are where incursions are staged. I’ve disrupted or sabotaged more of them than I care to remember.”

“You’re saying that our realm is in constant danger?”

“Life is always dangerous,” Tem says noncommittally. I roll my eyes at his evasiveness, and return my attention to cataloguing the armor and armaments of the outpost armory.

A row of shields on my right positively gleam in my mana senses, and two suits of armor at the other side of the room light up like a bonfire when I fully activate [Lesser Manasight]. I’m halfway across the room, ready to claim them for my own, before Tem stops me with a hand on my upper arm.

“Give me one moment to check that they don’t have any active defenses,” Tem says, his face grim. “Then we’ll take as much as we can carry.”

I pause, sudden suspicion turning my stomach. “This is all right to just take? You’re sure they can’t track us if we steal their stuff? If this is how they equip themselves for incursions, then I can’t imagine that they’ll look kindly on our intrusion and theft—and they may move up their invasion timelines.”

Tem just chuckles. “Good thinking, Nuri. They won’t like us taking their stuff! Usually I’m the paranoid one, but I’ve completely overlooked this all important and potentially deadly detail! Let’s flee this place forthwith and return to our homes, where we shall quiver in fear underneath our cozy blankets!”

I rub my temples with my fingertips to ward off the impending Tem-induced headache. “Are the defenses active or not?”

Tem purses his lips, scanning the room again. A glimmer of mana lights up his eyes, and he nods a moment later. “Ahem. You’re fine. Gear up, lad.”

“Any suggestions?” I ask hesitantly. There are so many options that I barely know where to begin. I can’t carry more than a few items, unless Tem assists with his strange storage Skills, but narrowing down my choices is already throwing me into a mild panic. What if I make a poor selection? What if I pass up something incredible because I don’t know what I’m looking at?

Tem wanders around the room, poking at weapons. He hefts a sword, tests the balance, and sets it back down with a grimace. “Hard to say what’s best for you. I doubt you’ll find a rod or paddle or shears to assist with glass blowing and sculpture. Armor is an option, since it’s all enchanted against mana intrusion. The labyrinth walkers tend to rely on other methods for their damage. Mana is a treat to them, a source of vitality and wealth. They feed on it, but they don’t wantonly use it in battle.”

I put down the dagger I’ve been examining. “Is that why they invade? Our realm is, what, like a garden they want to harvest?”

“If only that were all,” Tem murmurs. His eyes take on the glassy look of a man lost in memories he’d rather forget, and for once I have the good sense not to interrupt him with some irreverent or irrelevant statement.

He shakes himself at last, walking over with two weapons in a hand. “Do you gravitate toward the spear or sword?”

“I prefer answers,” I say quietly. “Why, exactly, do Incursions happen? What has you so spooked?”

Tem’s smile is brittle. “Tell me, Nuri, where does mana collect in greatest densities?”

“Uh . . . within our mana pools?” I offer hopefully.

“Precisely,” Tem says, his tone frosty. “They’re not here to harvest herbs. They invade to set up abattoirs from the abyss.”

I snicker at his pompous phrasing. “So, what, we’re just sheep headed for slaughter? I’m not keen on offering up my throat to [Butchers] from the void.”

“Then I ask again. Spear or sword?”

My gaze flickers to the wicked edges of the elegant halberds and brutal battle axes on the near wall. “Not an axe?”

“Do you have any training with the axe?” Tem asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, but they look so awesome. Imagine me at the front of a band of [Warriors], swinging my axe like a [Woodsman] chopping down a grove!” I break off to whistle in appreciation at my own imagined fantasy. “Talk about heroic!”

“Sometimes I doubt that you only have two Skills,” Tem says with a sigh. “In fact, I’m almost certain that you have a third Skill that requires you to seek out greater and greater follies, but somehow keeps you alive through it. For someone without any defensive abilities or armor, you sure find yourself on the front line an awful lot.”

“Must be destiny,” I reply with a shrug.

Tem nods along. “Yep. Only way to explain why you’re not dead a dozen times over.”

“C’mon! It’s not that bad,” I protest. “I’ve only run into jaguars, wraiths, and now this Rift with its behemoths and crabs and weird lizard beings. It’s really not . . . fine, I see your point.”

“Armor is a good idea,” Tem reiterates with a wry chuckle.

I shake my head. “I’m making my own set. Ezio’s commission.”

“Out of glass?” Tem asks.

“Speciality glass,” I correct him, heat rising to my face.

He coughs politely. “Sounds fancy.”

We stare at each for a long moment before I whirl away and rummage through the table at the back of the room. I don’t know what I’m searching for, but I don’t feel like looking at the smug expression on Tem’s face for another second.

No one believes that glass armor is worth anything. Even Ember thinks I’m wasting my time, but she’s not exactly willing to turn down Ezio’s generous gift. She should know better, since she’s used the enchanted swords on the studio wall, but if she doesn’t believe me, then why should Tem?

“All right. I’m going to start collecting what I can carry. I don’t have much space left, what with that Rhodium ore in my storage. If you don’t want to pick over the leftovers, then I suggest you stop pouting and start packing.”

“I’m not pouting,” I mutter, suddenly intensely fascinated by digging through the tools and instruments on the table. Maybe I can find something useful for the studio. I’ve always wanted better shears and tongs, or perhaps an enchanted wand or staff that I can use as a pontil once I graduate to mana-imbuing.

“Suit yourself,” Tem says. He clangs a few shields together, making more noise than I think is strictly necessary, but I ignore him and get to work.

I sort the tools into piles, not by type, but rather by level of helpfulness to my crafting. A set of blue-steel needles and black thread go flying as I toss them off the table. Moments later, they’re joined by shaving spokes and woodworking tools that I’ll never use. All the big hammers and oversized tongs that a blacksmith might use for repairs go off to the side, until a thought strikes me.

I pick up the nicest hammer and tongs, checking with my [Lesser Manasight] to confirm their value, and walk over to the armor side. “Tem? Could we bring back an enchanted pair for Mikko? He’s done a lot to help me, and I want to find a way to pay him back.”

“I’ll have to ditch the shields I picked up,” Tem grouses. He runs his fingers through his short, tightly-curled white hair, and lets out a dramatic sigh. “All right. I respect a gesture like that. Generosity is an admirable trait.”

“But it’s not an action that you would take,” I say, suddenly second-guessing myself.

“Not a chance!” Tem says. “The only way to get ahead in these sort of situations is to grab everything you can for yourself.” He paused, his jaw clenching. “Now, it was different when I had a team. We looked after each other. Like you and your friends you wrote me about. But it's a whole new world now. A poorer one, if you ask me.”

“You’ve still got to tell me what happened with your team,” I say, hoping that he’ll actually provide answers for once. As usual, Tem says nothing, but he doesn't look quite as upset he has in previous conversations. Maybe that means he’s warming up to me and I can get some information out of him soon.

I don't even know why I’m so intent on pumping him for details. It’s not like I can actually do anything about his situation if he has been pushed out of favor. In fact, tying my career to his is probably the worst thing I can do if I have ambitions! I'm committed now, and there’s no turning back. For better or worse, Tem and I are friends and I'm not planning on betraying his trust.

“Nuri, don’t forget to pick something for yourself before we run out of time. That lock I broke will be a dead giveaway that we’re here. After all the work you’ve done, you’ve earned a reward. You need something to get ahead; don’t short change yourself. But do it quickly.”

I lick my dry, cracked lips, and nod at him to show I’m listening. “Help me find a staff. Do you think they have any enchanted ones here that I could substitute as a new pontil in the hot shop? I could also use an etching tool. I won’t need it until I can imbue, but it’s not a bad idea to prepare ahead of time.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Tem says. “But don’t lock yourself in a corner, lad. You still need weapons better than what you have currently. You’re not particularly quick or stealthy, so dagger work probably is not your friend. You need more reach on the battlefield, which normally would mean the spear, but I don’t know if you prefer wielding a sword.”

I feel my face light up at the thought of a sword, but I try to slow play so that Tem doesn’t shoot down my idea. “It’s hard to tell. I’ve used practice swords, and I’ve trained with a staff when I’m battling the iron lunk. A staff is like a spear, right? I do prefer the reach but. . .”

“But there’s something noble about swinging a sword?” Tem interrupts.

“Yes!” I fairly shout. “It makes me feel like a hero from a story. How am I supposed to pass up that kind of opportunity?”

Tem shakes his head. When he speaks, his voice is soft and sad. “Nuri, you know what happens to heroes.”

I think I already know the answer, but I bite anyway. “Tell me. What happens to heroes?”

“They’re remembered fondly.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I say. “There’s a funeral. Bards write songs. It’s a big to do! But since when is risk a good enough reason not to try hard things?”

Tem swings a sword around experimentally before tossing it into the discard pile. “Can’t say I entirely disagree, or else we wouldn’t be in the middle of a Rift right now. Still, you’re taking your life into your own hands, lad. At least be smart about it.”

“Fine,” I say, perfunctorily looking over another few spears. “You think a spear is my best bet. I believe you.”

Tem shakes his head, although I can’t tell if he’s disapproving of the next weapon, or disagreeing with my statement. “No, a spear is just a stopgap while you lack power. Your best bet? If you improve and build up your glass Skills, then your mana control becomes your best threat. I’ve seen high-level [Papermakers] who could slice enemies to shreds with the worst paper cuts of all time, or wrap them up in endless layers of parchment and suffocate them.”

“You’re spinning tales now!” I laugh.

“Hmph. No respect. I give you the truth, and you throw it in my face,” Tem grumbles.

I lean heavily on my elbows amid the haphazard mess of tools and rejected weapons on top of the work table. “All right. I believe you. But you told me not two minutes ago that choosing a weapon is in my best interest.”

“It is,” Tem insists. “That doesn’t mean you’re always going to wield a spear or sword. If you walk this dual path of crafting and fighting, then we have to prepare you both for the short and long term. If you don’t want this armor, and you insist on being in melee range, then just get a spear!”

“And in the long term?” I prompt him, moving over to the row of spears to undertake my search in more earnest.

Tem joins me looking over the spears, tossing aside several that don’t meet with his approval. He says, “If you continue to progress under my tutelage, then your other Skills will make you feared even in the Capital. I can guarantee that.”

“What other Skills?” I say, incredulous at his arrogance. “I only have two, and one of them is still a lesser variant.”

“Not this crap again,” Tem snorts.

I kick an errant helmet lying on the ground, and snarl, “It’s true! Why do you keep acting like it’s not a big deal? I only have two Skills, and neither of them is going to defeat a [Warrior] or [Mage] in a duel.”

“Because your perspective is terrible, Nuri,” Tem explains patiently. “You’ve gained a second Skill. Why? Because you practiced! And as long as you keep practicing glasswork and mana control long term, then you’ll gain more Skills. I can help direct your evolutions, if you trust me. Remember, you’re not even at your first threshold yet, so just relax. You have time.”

I fiddle with another spear, holding it up to my face and staring down the haft to check that it’s straight and true. “And what if I don’t get anything good at the threshold?”

“Stop acting the fool,” Tem snaps. He smacks the spear out of my hands. “That spear is garbage. But unlike weapons, there’s no such thing as good Skills and bad Skills: there’s simply the will to act. If you have the creativity to apply what you have to the world around you, then you can make any Skill ‘good.’ I thought you’d figure that out after using heat and cold in combat like you do, not to mention the clever trick with those glass globes.”

“All right, all right. I trust your wisdom,” I concede. “Now let’s find a good, solid spear for me. Those weapons aren’t going to pick themselves up.”

In short order, we test out the few remaining spears in the row. Tem discourages me from taking a glaive or any of the assorted polearms. I finally find a spear I’m comfortable with; the haft feels familiar in my hands, reminding me of my practice staff, but the blade is a long, slender, leaf-like bit of masterwork that even Tem admits will serve me well and hold up under repeated acts of violence.

“My thanks,” I finally say stiffly. “I know I've been more than a little annoying, but I do appreciate your help.”

“Being annoying is the prerogative of the young,” Tem says with a wink. He rumbles with a deep belly laugh, and starts to open his mouth to say something else when his eyes go wide with shock. His head whips around toward the open door, and he hisses.

“Run!” Tem roars, charging toward the exit.

We sprint for the broken door, but a slab of iron slams home, blocking the exit. Pulsing lights and an ear-splitting siren explode around us, sounding an alarm, and we skid to a stop.

Tem’s dark face goes ashen, a sickly pallor under his hale, aristocratic features. “We have to get out, Nuri. The Captain is on his way. If we’re caught—no, better not to give you nightmares.”

“Blast it open,” I shout, panic spiking my voice to shrill levels.

“You have to help me,” Tem says, drawing his enchanted blade and rushing toward the exit again. “Use everything you have; I’m out of my aces for a few more hours at least. I warned you about this possibility.”

I run beside him, scrambling across the stone floor of the armory, and put my hand against the cold metal of the thick security door. My [Lesser Manasight] flares to life, and I sink my perception deep into the slab of iron.

“Not mana resistant?” I conclude, but I glance at Tem for confirmation, not trusting my budding Skill and its lesser prefix.

When he nods, I slam my willpower against the iron, spreading my influence through the metal as fast as I can bear. The pressure of pushing mana so deeply into the massive slab burns in my channels, but I grit my teeth and endure. When my mana reaches the saturation point, I rip the heat out of the huge iron door, stealing as much energy as I can. I gasp at the strain on my mana pathways.

The intense freeze leaves the security door brittle and unmoving on a scale so tiny that I can’t see it with my naked eye. Everything vibrates at an infinitesimally small, invisible level, though I can't prove it—only feel in my mana senses. That movement disappears in the door, at the cost of my entire mana pool.

Reeling on my feet, I gesture toward Tem, too exhausted and shaky for words. He slams an enchanted mace into the frozen-over door, and a crack radiates out from the point of impact. With a grunt, he smashes the weapon into the supercooled metal again. Each hit chips off more and more metal. Tem’s final blow shatters the security barrier, sending sparks flying as a flange breaks off the mace from the force of the collision.

He shoves me through the gap in the crumbling rubble, then grabs another mace before joining me back in the tunnels and taking off at a run just shy of a sprint. “No time to waste, Nuri! Follow the sound of my footsteps; I can’t risk keeping the light going.”

True to his word, Tem’s mana usage cuts off. I run blindly, my new spear out ahead of me in a loose grip in an awkward attempt to keep from smashing face-first into a stone wall. The tension builds as I fight off the panic of running through the darkness. Despite my best efforts to tamp it down, the fear of a high-speed collision eats away at me, fraying my already ragged nerves

“Halt,” Tem whispers harshly, and I stagger to a standstill, groping around for the wall. I touch the dressed stone of the labyrinth tunnel, and my whole body sags against the wall with relief. My chest tightens, and my heart skips a few beats, thudding erratically as the closed off spaces and the terror of pursuit hit me full force.

Tem grabs my shoulder, making me jump. He snaps out a command. “Give me your second glass ball. Hurry!”

A dozen questions ping around inside my mind, but I rip open my travel sack without arguing and find the ball. I shove it into his rib cage, and he takes the glass globe from me with a grunt. My entire world lights up a moment later as he stuffs more mana into it than I ever expected it could hold, but since it’s not heat-aspected, the glass doesn’t shatter. Yet.

Tem tosses the glowing globe to the right, and I don’t even need my [Lesser Manasight] to follow its trajectory down a side tunnel. The mana bursts forth like the sun.

Tem tugs on my wrist, dragging me in the opposite direction. He picks up the pace, and we fairly fly along, unerringly avoiding the walls and turning down corridors I can’t even see. All I can figure is that he has some version of [Darkvision], or a [Scout] Skill that enables him to map out his path in a strange environment.

Time seems to lose its meaning as we dash through the darkness. I’m sucking wind, and the blood in my veins burns like etching acid, but I don’t dare stop. Anything that scares Tem by all rights ought to utterly terrify me. My muscles shake, quivering like gelatin, and my steps grow increasingly desperate and unsteady. I can’t stop. I have to keep going. I have to—

My right foot catches on the back of my left ankle, and I stumble, slamming down into the tunnel floor face-first and breaking Tem’s hold on my wrist. Blood bursts from my lower lip, hot and tangy with salt.

For a brief, horrifying moment, I’m convinced he’s going to leave me down here, alone in the dark.

Relief washes over me as I hear Tem retraces his steps. His robes rustle faintly as he stoops down next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nuri. I got carried away and forgot to set a pace you can maintain. We’re safe now. You can rest.”

“The Captain?” I finally manage to wheeze out in between gasps for air.

“Took the bait,” Tem confirms with a chuckle. “That was a near thing. Luckily, mana is like catnip to those misbegotten sons of shadow.”

I roll over and sit up, groaning softly. “The exit? Is it far?”

Tem goes silent for a long moment, and I steel myself against the presumed bad news. Then he clears his throat, somewhat excessively, and a fresh suspicion pops into my mind. A moment later, he confirms my worst fears. “Change of plan. The Captain won’t be delayed by the mana orb for long. Once our deception is found out, the exit will become the primary target. It’s only logical, after all.”

“But we’re not the type of people who do logical,” I say with a sigh of resignation.

“No, we aren’t,” Tem says.

I catch my breath and stand to my feet, rolling my neck as I prepare for the next action. “So, what’s the score? More treasure?”

“We hit them where it counts,” Tem replies. “We’re going to shut down the labyrinth and cut off the void from this sector of reality.”

“Won’t that trap us here?” I ask in alarm.

“Your lack of faith in my abilities wounds me, my young protege,” Tem says. “We’ll break into the control room, and then I’ll plant a timed charge. If we move quickly, we can get out.”

“If,” I repeat back to him, my fingers already shaking with the rush of adrenaline.

Tem plows onward, ignoring my jitteriness. “We’ll make it. Just recover your stamina so you can keep up. Once the charge blows, we’ll take an alternate route to the exit, bypass the Captain and crew heading to the control, and we’ll escape the labyrinth in ensuing chaos.”

“That easy, huh? Blow things up, seal the portal, and sprint back to Silaraon?”

“Yep,” Tem says.

“Huh. One of your better plans," I laugh. "Count me in!”