071, 2/2

Erick returned to Windy Manor in a blip of white light with Ophiel on his shoulder. The sun came down from the east, barely peeking over the tall trees around the manor. Poi waited for him on a bench on the lawn in front of the large western windows. The sapphire scaled guard immediately stood up as Erick appeared, his face tense. But he relaxed as recognition set in.

“Hey, Poi.” Erick asked, “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Poi added, “Nothing. Glad to see you’re okay.”

Erick smiled. He teased, “I’m glad to see you care so much.”

Poi deadpanned, “I care about my ride back home.”

Erick laughed. Poi cracked a grin.

Kiri rushed out of the front door, saying, “Oh thank the gods. When the [Crystalline Air] went down we all started to panic.”

“Ah!” Erick said, “I have a reason for that. Here.” Erick materialized two blue boxes of [Prismatic Ward] and tossed them to Kiri and Poi.

Poi casually caught his box, but Kiri’s eyes went wide as she snatched hers out of the air. Poi read the box and dismissed it as he gently sighed out into the early morning sky.

Kiri shouted, “Holy gods.” She read the box again. She laughed.

Erick quickly gave permissions to Poi, Kiri, Teressa, Rats, Ophiel, and Jane, as he looked past them, to the house. He lined up his new spell then spent an extra 250 mana to Extremely Shape a 4500 point [Prismatic Ward] across the whole of Windy Manor; over the exposed wooden exterior and massive western windows, past the roof and into the ground an extra meter. The air around the manor shifted in some dense way, showing as a slight bend around the edges of the protected space, but nothing when viewed straight on. As the spell settled in, Windy Manor seemed a bit dimmer, and a bit brighter. Warmer yet cool. And shielded for over 50,000 points of damage.

Erick had originally considered [Prismatic Ward] to be some flashy thing, a brightness and a darkness and everything else all rolled up in one, similar to the fractal crash of [Crystalline Air], but more. That idea had shifted as time went on, for the base idea of [Prismatic Ward] was to protect, to nurture, to ensure survival. Survival was not flashy, or at least it wasn’t flashy for Erick, or for Hocnihai.

Reading that man’s journals had helped Erick in many ways to achieve what he had achieved today. Erick barely understood all the math in all those pages, but he understood the need for a place to call home. That’s all that Hocnihai was looking for, after all, from the Greensoil Republic to the Wasteland Kingdoms, he had been betrayed and hurt on all sides but he had eventually found a place of his own.

As Erick watched [Prismatic Ward] fill Windy Manor, he knew that Oceanside was not his home, but it was good enough for now.

As Kiri watched the spell take hold her eyes went wide and a tiny squeal escaped her lips. When the spell finished, she rushed to the Manor’s entrance, to touch the solid air hanging across the open space. Her hand moved through the dense space without interruption. The air did not fracture like with [Crystalline Air]; it didn’t seem to do anything at all. Kiri rushed into the house, laughing as she moved.

Poi watched the house, asking, “A permanent spell?”

Erick said, “I wasn’t expecting it, but it’s nice, right?”

“It’s something.”

Erick smirked. He said, “You know… I haven’t added ‘air’ or ‘water’ to the permissions, but water flows through the space anyway. You can breathe, even though it’s solid.” He added, “This is exactly what I imagined when I cast.”

Poi said, “Have you already given me permissions?”

“Of course!”

“Remove them for a moment.”

“… Okay?” Erick removed Poi from [Prismatic Ward]s permissions. “Done.”

Poi nodded, then blipped blue. He did not move, though. He just blipped in place. He hummed. He said, “It denies [Teleport] exactly how we all thought it would. Now… for this…” Tendrils of thought extended from his sapphire head. “That’s not blocked, so that’s good.” He turned to Erick. “Done. Please reinstate my permissions.”

Erick did so, then said, “We’ll still get messages if Spur needs us, then?”

“Yup.” Poi said, “That is exactly what I was testing.”

Kiri rushed out of the house, her emerald eyes glittering as she said, “This is amazing!” She exclaimed, “And it’s permanent! That’s crazy! Magic is supposed to degrade but this doesn’t! How did you even do that?”

Erick smiled. Now was a good a time as any to share his ideas with Kiri. He said, “I think it might decay all the time, but it also regenerates all the time, like how a Grand-[Prestidigitation] stove or a Permanent [Special Ward] recovers over time.”

Kiri stopped in her steps. She said, “Okay?”

Erick walked toward the house, saying, “I have this theory about [Renew] already being a part of [Ward]. The Headmaster spoke about how a Permanent [Special Ward] was more like how [Mend] returns an object back to its remembered state, so I’ll have to research that some more. You can help, but first, let me lay out my ideas and you can have at them, too.”

Kiri frowned a little, but said, “Okay?”

In the comfort of the house, Erick spoke of his [Renew] ideas. Kiri mostly listened. She was willing to accept his reasoning, but surely someone else would have tapped into this possibility before him, right?

“I think we need to research [Mend] more,” Kiri finally said. “I don’t know nearly enough about this spell.”

Erick said, “I agree. But we’ve got time, and lots of stuff to do besides.”

Kiri’s eyes blazed emerald as she smiled, saying, “We do, don’t we.”

 

– – – –

 

Erick stood beside his wooden desk, looking over a dozen books that laid scattered across the various surfaces of his room, while Ophiel sat on a perch by an open window. A gentle breeze flowed across the winged [Familiar]; he was in his preferred position for when Erick was working in his office.

Kiri had taken Erick’s idea of [Renew] being inside [Ward] and run off on her own to investigate; her eyes alight with passion. But for Erick, it was back to studying. He might not have gotten far with [Gate], but he was doing well with enchanting despite the math and diagrams and rigidity of the discipline. The dozen books set around him now were all the most well respected books on the subject, each holding clues and rhymes and the runes of all the most common spells. One of the books was a complete breakdown of [Prestidigitation], stretched out to 500 pages of text and pictures that detailed everything known about this most complicated, most basic spell.

The sheer volume of magical effects produced by [Prestidigitation] was worthy of a few thousand pages of in-depth study, but this smaller tome was a perfect primer on the subject.

Thanks to these books, Erick was now able to enchant any of his normal spells into rods or wands as needed. He could enchant [Prestidigitation] into knives to make them sharper, too, or make a stove that never ran out of fire or power. He even made a hat that he could pull a ‘rabbit’ out of. It was a ‘rabbit’ made of fuzz and nothing that instantly puffed away as soon as it was released, but it was still a fun little effect to enchant into a hat.

Needles that sewed fabrics together on their own. Needles that sewed lace on their own. Cards that shuffled themselves. Cups that always kept their contents cold, or hot. Gems that turned the wearer’s clothes sparkly. Salt shakers that added salt flavor without actually using salt. [Prestidigitation] was quite fun. Erick had learned a lot trying to form that spell into the desired enchanted effect.

But enchanting a staff with an aura was quite another endeavor entirely. This was yet another of his goals in coming to Oceanside. A Staff of Withering Domain was a bomb he did not want to create, not right now, but there was another spell in his arsenal that also needed to be made for others to use. A Staff of the Exalted Storm. But there were problems. A lot of problems.

Firstly, it was damned expensive, and Erick was already running low on supplies. Each try for a staff of [Exalted Storm Aura] took a full grand rad. Secondly, his first five forays into enchanting such a thing leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, their metal shafts blackened and twisted, while the diamond orbs on top were broken, cracked things. Erick left them like that instead of [Mend]ing them back to metal ingots and perfect spheres because how the magic failed to take hold was supposed to tell him how the enchanting failed. Hence the books all around him.

Erick read over auras and mathemagics, he pored over diagrams and energy rates. He studied pictures of staffs and how enchants failed, trying to figure out what was wrong with his methods.

He Handy Aura’d one of the less twisted staffs into his hand. The gem on top was cracked in a spreading spiderweb pattern, while the staff itself was simply blackened and pitted. He Handy Aura’d through three different books, looking for the answer.

According to this book—

Poi stepped into the open doorway, saying, “Sir. A monster approaches Spur.”

“Okay.” With a hundred Handy hands Erick rapidly set book marks into his books, closing them but leaving them where they were, while he set the broken staff back into the corner of the room. He summoned five Ophiel and began sending them across the ocean, saying, “It’s almost time for the rains, anyway.” He asked, “What kind of monster?”

Poi stood tall and said, “It’s the Flare Couatl.”

A sudden, bone deep, dead tired emotion washed through Erick’s entire body, settling into his chest and behind his eyes. He blinked long, simultaneously halting Ophiel’s procession to Spur as he said, “Monsterified?”

Poi said, “Initial reports are inconclusive, but disturbing. He attacked some rookies training outside the city but they managed to escape. Now, he’s hovering outside the walls, demanding that the rookies who escaped be released to his custody. That was five minutes ago. He vanished when Silverite said no, but promised to be back after he gathered enough hostages to force a trade.”

“Silverite would never trade hostages.”

Somewhere outside of Erick’s office, a chair slid across the floor. Footsteps drew near.

“Exactly, sir.” Poi said, “But there’s another problem. The creature is asking for you, personally.”

Erick groaned, mostly silently.

Kiri stepped to Poi’s side, watching.

“Okay.” Erick nudged Ophiel to continue on to Spur, as he said, “I need to be there in person.”

“If you wish, sir.” Poi said, “I’m ready when you are.”

Kiri offered, “You just summoned your Ophiel, right? I’ll take us all to Spur.”

Erick had worked out a system for Ophiel to expend the least amount of mana to [Teleport] to Spur, where a few of them took most of them toward the end and then blipped backward, back into position. But they still ran through 250 to 750 mana each blip; it added up. And there was no room in Erick’s system for them to come back and take him and Poi along for the ride.

“Sure,” Erick said. “That works. Thank you, Kiri.”

Kiri turned around, toward the balcony that ringed the central airspace of the house. She cast into the open air, conjuring a disk of swirling green Force inscribed with an innate circular [Teleport] rune. Kiri’s [Teleporting Platform] was modeled after Erick’s, though she went for [Airshape] instead of [Stoneshape]. Air was everywhere, after all. Stone was not omnipresent; there was barely any stone inside of Windy Manor. Kiri hopped over the balcony, landing on her platform. She turned to Erick and Poi, waiting for them to join her. Poi went first, over the balcony rail, onto the platform. Erick followed.

Erick asked, “Did you talk to Teressa and Rats, Poi?”

“They know we’re going.” Poi said, “Whenever you’re ready, Kiri.”

Kiri answered in a crash of green light, blipping the three of them a thousand kilometers northwest, over the ocean. They continued to blip across the wide, wide waters, under Kiri’s power, across prairies and over mountains. Soon enough, they appeared above an endless tan desert where sunlight caught on endless crystal agaves and mimics.

They continued on, to Spur.

 

– – – –

 

Kiri blipped her platform into the air just outside of the house, in orange Human District of Spur. Seven tiny Ophiel hovered above the roof of the house, while a small crowd had already gathered on the grounds below, in anticipation of Erick’s arrival.

The two orcol guards who Silverite had watching over his house, Turock and Veel, stood to the side, near lemon trees of the garden. Jane stood by the door. Erick locked sight on his daughter, and though Silverite and Mog were also nearby, he instantly hopped off Kiri’s platform and rushed to Jane, to wrap his daughter in a hug.

Jane chuckled over his shoulder as she hugged him back, saying, “Good to see you too, Dad.” She let go, whispering, “But there’s a crisis.”

Erick let go of Jane, saying, “Right, right.” He looked his daughter over a little, making sure she was really okay. She was, as far as Erick could see. Same brown hair clipped behind her head, same brown eyes, same wry smile. So Erick nodded, then turned to Silverite, asking, “What’s the score?”

He hadn’t seen Silverite in almost two months. She was the same pure silver wrought in the shape of a dragonkin as before. Silverite was the only wrought Erick ever knew who wore clothes. Today, she wore a nice, simple white dress, with a few frills on the arms and hem. Her face was a harsh thing, though.

Silverite said, “The Flare Couatl is still a person, but this does not matter anymore. He has decided to gather up adventurers from outside the city and bring them here, to try and force my hand into giving up those who he already tried to kill.” She looked to Mog. “Mog?”

Mog was the same massive pale-green woman that Erick had always known, with huge muscles and short black hair. She wore her leathers today; normal brown. They might have been her conjured armor, or not. Erick had learned a small secret in the past month: Mog could freely change the color of her magic. She was happy with people not knowing what her magical effects looked like; she liked catching people offguard. She was not happy right now, though.

Mog frowned, saying, “In the last week we have had three unsubstantiated reports from two different parties that the Flare Couatl tried to kill them while they were out hunting mimics. The one team that reported twice never came back from their latest hunt. That was two days ago. And now we have this.”

Erick felt a flush of anger at himself. He asked, “Has any Cinnabar Hand been found in Spur?”

Silverite stared at Erick with hard, completely silver eyes. She said, “Yes.”

Erick inhaled sharply, then said, “What? Really?”

“Yes.” Silverite said, “Two of them, two weeks ago.”

“… Anyone I know?”

“I don’t think so.” Silverite said, “I need that Flare Couatl dead, Erick. It has killed thousands of hunters since it appeared but I fear it is running out of targets. It’s also gotten too big. It’s an actual threat to Spur. Merit and Killzone are standing by for this confrontation, as are the other archmages of Spur. They will not move unless—”

The sky cracked with power, like a far away thunderstorm announcing its presence. Red bled across the roof of the world; a mist of blood and hatred and magic.

Mog said, “It’s back.”

All seven Ophiel held still in the crimson air, their bodies slowly expanding to their full size. Eyes opened up across their flowing wings as they silently gazed north. Erick watched the sky with them, as the entire city of Spur witnessed the Flare Couatl appear in the sky beyond the northern wall.

Erick felt his blood go cold as his heart beat hard.

The Flare Couatl lazed in the air like an impossibly large sea snake, matching the city walls for width and dwarfing every wyrm that Erick had ever seen. Two hundred meters long, three hundred? Erick didn’t know. The Flare Couatl was a lot bigger than Erick remembered. Blood red scales glittered in the red sunlight, flickering with power, while multiple sets of bright red wings flowed down his back, from behind his massive blunt nose, to his long tapered tail.

He spoke, quietly but pervasively, his voice carrying through the city, “I am ready for a trade. I also wish to speak to Erick Flatt. Please do not deny me this simple request.”

Erick quickly asked Silverite, “The people he wants— They’re not impostors, right?”

“They are not.” Silverite said, “If you can’t fight it, get it to leave.”

Jane stepped toward the Flare Couatl, but caught herself before she took a second step. She winced. She said, “Fuck.” She whispered, “Shit. I can’t be out here.” She looked to Silverite, saying, “I can’t help. Don’t make me.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Silverite said, “Then cower in your home like the rest of those who need protection.”

Jane locked up for the briefest of moments, staring daggers at Silverite. She quickly came out of it, nodding. She rushed back into the house, closing the door behind her. Erick stared at that door for a hot second.

Erick looked back toward the Flare Couatl. He took into the air on his Handy Aura, saying, “I’ll see what I can do to get him to leave.”

It took mere moments to fly over the stone buildings of Spur, to reach the wall. It took less than that for the Flare Couatl to notice Erick flying his way, flanked by seven now-tiny Ophiel. Erick set down on a flat stone tower next to the northern city gates. The Flare Couatl hung in the red sky in front of him, radiating a heat that failed to reach Erick, but that Erick still felt on his skin like a sunburn starting.

The series of events for Erick to get to this point almost caused him to wander off into thought in an attempt to escape this current situation, but he remained in the present. He spoke to the Flare Couatl, using [Prestidigitation] to increase his voice a little, “Greetings! I heard you were looking for me!”

The Flare Couatl watched Erick, his eyes blazing like miniature suns. Erick felt his stare like the stare of a killer, deciding how best to proceed with the killing. But he did not draw closer to Erick. The Flare Couatl just hung in the sky, watching. Thinking, maybe? Erick wasn’t sure.

The Flare Couatl said, “You are Erick Flatt.”

“For my whole life, so far!”

“I wish to know if you have discovered how to [Scan] through the problems of [Polymorph].”

“I have done some research on the subject in my time at arcanaeum, and I don’t think what you want is possible.”

This was not a lie. He had done some research, but reading a few books on [Scan] and making the spell that Messalina wanted were entirely different beasts. No matter his ideas on DNA, or mitochondria, or whatever possible unique bacteria might inhabit the people of Veird, making such a spell would prove the death of him. So Erick didn’t plumb the depths of [Scan] magic too deeply. At least not yet.

Besides, if Erick were to make such a spell, it would be Particle Mage Only, and thus useless for Messalina’s needs. Erick might not have a major problem with her using soul magic to move willing participants into other bodies, but there was absolutely no way that he would ever work with her. She was still a mass murderer, even if you discounted all of her soulwork.

Researching [Scan] was not the only bit of magical history that Erick had looked into. He had also looked into Messalina. The Life Binder, as she was known to most of the world, was a story told to children to scare them into being good, and also a real person, responsible for the deaths of thousands of people, all because of some unknown reason; some schism that happened between her and the Headmaster, centuries ago.

The Flare Couatl watched Erick with eyes of fire. His mouth opened just a tiny bit, then closed. He spoke without moving, “Then I must continue my work the hard way.” He added, “I know I said that I would bring back some hostages to trade for those that got away, but this was me speaking out of turn. I will not do this if you can tell me that those who escaped my wrath were not hunters.”

Erick honestly said, “As far as I know, and as far as Silverite and the people here have told me, the people you seek are not impostors. If they are hunters, then it is up to the laws of Spur to decide their fates. They are in our custody until such a decision is reached.”

The Flare Couatl shivered in the sky, his wings flickering as he gently undulated.

Erick continued, “Thank you for what you have done to search out the Cinnabar Hand and to rid the Crystal Forest of those who would kill without care for the damage they do. I wish you the best of luck in finding your true quarry.”

The Flare Couatl slipped left and right, just a little. His eyes stared down at Erick. He said, “They are hunters. Every single person in that group. In due course you will divine what I already know, and you will pass down the same judgment I would have passed. That you take more time to come to my conclusion is of no consequence to me.”

The air singed red. The Flare Couatl was gone, just like that.

Here one moment, gone the next.

Erick almost collapsed to his knees. He held himself upright for one brief moment, before blipping back home. As he appeared in front of Silverite and Mog, Erick muttered, “Fuck, he got big.”

Mog nodded, silently.

Ophiel, all seven of him, winged through the sky, quickly coming back to Erick.

Silverite said, “Do you have a spell that can kill him without destroying Spur in the process?”