099, 2/2

Erick lay in bed, thinking, for two hours. And then it was time to get up. Two hours was enough rest, though.

Once he decided to get up, the next morning started rapidly. Toast, jam, the addition of peanut butter and peanuts to the list of things to reinvent, and a quick cup of coftea, was all that Erick needed for breakfast. In the middle of all that, he sent a message to Apogee, asking for some time to talk.

But according to his son, Fork, the former Guildmaster of the Wayfarer’s Guild was out of town. And then, a small conversation with Fork, the current Guildmaster of the Wayfarer’s Guild, turned into talk of [Gate]. Erick let slip that he remade quite a few [Teleport] spells, so Fork insisted on meeting, as soon as possible. From there, it ballooned into a whole thing. Erick had too many things to do to be trapped by talk of [Gate] right now, but he gave Fork some of his time, and thus, he found himself in the meeting room of the Wayfarer’s Guild, handing their little black book back to his three [Gate] co-conspirators: Rexarix, the incani from the Wasteland Kingdoms, Fieldsmith of the Greensoil Republic, and Fork, of Spur.

Rexarix beamed, as he said, “You remade them all in under a month—”

“Under a week!” Fieldsmith laughed, as he looked to Ophiel, on Erick’s shoulder. “Your [Familiar] sure is something!”

Ophiel trilled in contented violins; yes, he certainly was awesome, alright.

Fork asked, “Can we please see the [Gate] quest?”

Erick popped out the blue box, handing each of them a copy, as he said, “I’m not sure what the Worldly Path is, but I’d imagine it’s about traveling the world?”

Rexarix marveled at the blue box, saying, “If Everlin Etherspray would have lived past the death of all Halves, then she could have told us what it meant. According to popular theory, she was slated to give all her secrets to her apprentices, but that never happened.”

“What my colleague failed to say is that we have no idea what ‘The Worldly Path’ actually means.” Fieldsmith said, “No one has been able to figure it out, and rarer are the people who actually manage to unlock the Quest, itself. Do you have any ideas?”

Erick offered, “Traveling the world with companions? Showing others the sights out there? Spatial Magic seems all about stretching possibility out into two different spots, so I’d imagine [Gate] has something to do with transforming an area into being capable of automatically transforming the possibility of all people entering the area.” He said, “Honestly, I have been swamped with a lot of responsibilities. I haven’t gotten a chance to try it out. And speaking of responsibilities, do any of you three know how to lock down someone from [Teleport]ing? From casting any Spatial magic? I need to know to stop Shades from being able to run away.” He looked to Fork, saying, “That’s why I needed to speak to your father.”

The atmosphere of the room changed, dramatically. From jovial and open, to cold and closed.

Rexarix said, “I have heard that there is trouble brewing. Bend, of the Kingdoms, formally offers you sanctuary if you should need to run.”

Fieldsmith shot the incani a deadly look. Then he softened, saying, “Surely a more neutral option—”

“Yes yes.” Rexarix said, “I apologize. If there is a more neutral option, then by all means.”

Erick said, “What I would prefer, is for the Wayfarers to sign on to defend Spur, when the time comes.”

Fork said, “I am already promised to the defense of my home town, as our branch is here. We will hold the line, whenever we are needed, in accordance with the duty of all citizens of any major city, and especially of Spur.” He continued to say something, but another voice cut in.

The day instantly went from trying to horrific.

Poi sent, ‘Ballooning Spiders are falling on Candlepoint. More information is coming, but shadelings are already dying due to scouting spiders, and automatons are killing anyone who fights the spiders. Bulgan is defending the Crystal, and nothing else.’

Erick felt a sudden swell of cold. His heart beat hard, as a chill ripped up his spine. He closed his eyes, and spoke softly, “… Shit.” He forced his emotions down, as he opened his eyes.

The three Guildmasters were looking at him; concerned. Fieldsmith glanced to Poi. He must have seen the tendril of thought between Erick and Poi.

Erick said, “I have to go. There’s an emergency.”

Fork said, “Of cour—”

Erick blipped away, leaving the Guildmasters to their own devices.

 

– – – –

 

Erick reappeared in his home, in the library; one of the safest parts of the house for extended Ophiel control. Poi and Ophiel blipped in on the other side of the room, one in a flash of blue, the other in a flash of white and a trill of miffed flute notes at being left behind. Erick apologized for leaving suddenly, as he began summoning more Ophiels.

He sent one of them blipping over to his tower, to grab a specific item from underneath the floor. In another two moments, Erick held a purple crown in his hands. It was a weighty thing, made of twisted iron and three void-dark octahedral diamonds, each the size of a small fist. Purple lightmasks covered each gem, ensuring that the only light to get inside was attuned to every conventional Stat. Erick took off his rings so they wouldn’t explode, and put on the crown. Plus 213 All-Stats. Slightly more than the 210 it had been before.

That was odd, but there was no time to investigate that oddity. Erick looked to Poi.

With a dozen lines of intent coming off of his head, Poi looked away, saying, “Spur is on alert for a counterattack. You’re cleared for engagement.” He turned to Erick. “We want Bulgan dead, too, sir. If it looks like you can do it, then do it.”

Right. Erick had almost forgotten that he wasn’t the only one Bulgan had wronged. The Shade had apparently been killing humans inside Ar’Kendrithyst and working with Tania Webwalker, Melemizargo’s Champion, for a long while. Years, perhaps.

Erick continued to summon Ophiels, quickly reaching his maximum. With over 8000 mana to begin with, 9 more Ophiel only cost him most of his original mana pool. With his crown-improved Stats, he had over 17,000 maximum mana. Each Ophiel he summoned, while wearing the crown, would have that much effective Health, too, along with his near 76,000 Mana Regen per day, but only if they were Resting.

With a directed thought, nine of his Ophiel, all tiny with fluffy white feathers and bright eyes, blipped away in white flashes, to positions outside of Spur, over the sand. Stone raised from the sand, forming [Teleporting Platform]s under each Ophiel. Each [Familiar] then expended most of themselves, 15,000 mana each, in order to create 90,000 point [Prismatic Ward]s over each platform.

Ophiel would be easy to [Dispel] if he were on his own, but [Ward]s had to be destroyed, or [Dispel]ed on a 1 point of defense per 1 point of [Dispel] basis. Erick smirked to himself. Let’s see how Bulgan dealt with that. 90,000 points of [Solid Ward] was massive!

 

– – – –

 

Over a shadowy city laden with rainbow light, wide awake in the minutes before the dawn, there were no clouds of water as there had been for the last week, but instead, threads of spidersilk adorned the twilight above. Perfectly straight, those threads tangled on no errant winds, for the winds were controlled. Spider silk drifted forward, riding the prevalent breeze toward the target.

Many-legged monsters, with many eyes and many minds, spun those threads into the breeze, and casting in concert, flowed toward the shadowy city. There were some complications in the attack, but they were accounted for.

A spike of crystal rose from the center of their greater target. The first waves of scouts had determined with their lives that the crystal spike was like the crystal city far to the east; a target of last resort, and laden with defenders more than capable of ending an invasion. But below that crystal spike! Oh, the bounty! The squishy bipeds in the dark buildings were slippery, but they tasted fantastic. So much nutrition! Some had even been wrapped in bundles and already spirited away below. They didn’t even fight back.

This place was primed for feasting, and the Horde was ravenous.

—The air shifted as white flashes disturbed the descent.

Oh? Birds? Birds dare to try the Horde? Or…

Not birds? No!

The many winged, with eyes to rival our own! The Hated! The Horde had heard about them! They were worse than the crystal maws on the sands. Retreat! Retreat! Run a—

An orb of bright darkness flickered at the tip of the crystal, in the center of the city.

 

– – – –

 

Ophiel fluttered into position, between most of the oncoming horde and Candlepoint.

Through a hundred different vantage points, Erick saw a hundred different things. Shadelings died in the streets below, either from spiders as they tried to defend themselves, or from automatons as the shadelings tried to defend themselves, but they weren’t allowed to defend themselves from anyone, or anything. Adventurers in the city rushed to save themselves, and some shadelings in the process, killing spiders and automatons with flashes of swordplay or spellwork, earning the ire of both the many-legged monsters and the animated armors.

For a brief moment, Erick watched as a pair of guards turned to shadow to get away from the greatswords of a pair of automatons, only to run into the fangs of an orcol-sized spider. One guard was killed and devoured on the spot. The other seemed to fly, uncontrolled, into wrapping threads, turning from person into a bundle of white silk in seconds.

Everywhere, spiders captured people, and rushed into the ground, burrowing holes in fractions of seconds, pulling still-living cargo into the depths below.

But the worst part was that spiders, under the control of the mother spiders, were all invisible, and working in concert, under expertly controlled hive minds. Erick had to infer what he was seeing when he looked upon Candlepoint. For what he actually saw was people suddenly sprouting blood, so a spider must have gotten them. People tripped on nothing, and were ripped into cocoons. Some shadelings slipped away in shadows, running as best they could, but then they stopped for some reason, and fell down, paralyzed or dead or dying. Spiders were inside the shadows, too. They were everywhere.

The dark crystal in the center of town, the Crystal, where people traded darkchips for treasure, was the only fully defended spot in the city. But it was not safe for shadelings, or anyone. Automatons congregated there, killing everything that moved. The land was red and black with blood and shadow, as people tried to flee the spiders, only to fall to automated defenses.

Everything else, from the Garrison with its adventurer defenders, to the Farms, to the bordellos and the hotels, was under attack by invisible enemies, and full of holes leading down into the dark below.

And above it all, but below the floating horde, was a dark man, standing on the dark crystal, looking upon his kingdom, and laughing. He bellowed hateful joy into the spider raining sky. When they got too close to him, he waved his hand, and they blew off course, down into a part of the city that had been doing okay, until suddenly exposed to another round of invisible attackers.

Ophiel had only been in the air for ten seconds, and Erick already knew that half of Candlepoint had to be dead, already.

This was the true terror of the Ballooning Spider Horde, when it fell upon an unprotected populace. This was the true nature of Veird, in its most bloody, most dangerous moments. Erick had made light of this reality with his own ability, and his own magics, but here, mutated nature was allowed to happen, unimpeded.

The air cleared of booming laughter.

Erick looked to Bulgan, as the Shade pointed at one of the Ophiel.

The Shade flashed with white, grey, dark light. Erick watched both from the outside and from the inside, as dense air collapsed around an Ophiel. Space folded, as reality crushed inward like a closing fist. Dense air cracked, and broke. Wing snapped and dislocated. Ophiel and all of his defenses, crushed toward a center of compacted space.

And then Erick was watching from the outside, as one Ophiel was no more, and the space where he had been exploded in dark light. A pulse of dust and pure force rippled out of the implosion, for that is what it had to be; Bulgan had imploded a small part of reality, somehow.

The eighth Ophiel died in a similar fashion. It took Bulgan seven seconds to crush an Ophiel, but it still happened. Erick still wasn’t strong enough.

Bulgan yelled, “I do not authorize your assistance, Erick! Go away! Candlepoint is fine without you!”

Shadelings below screamed as they were torn apart by invisible fangs, or packed into cocoons by nimble legs and air currents.

Seven remaining Ophiel ran away from Bulgan, for they could not blip. The air was full of scratchy denial of all Spatial Magic. Bulgan’s [Teleport Lock] had come on in the last few seconds; maybe even as soon as he had seen Ophiel. Maybe the Shade had been waiting for Erick, or anyone, to make a play.

Ophiel flew in every direction, into the horde, away from Bulgan. They cast stationary, multi-kilometer layers of [Withering] into the spider filled sky, into the falling monsters. Hopefully none of the shadelings thought to fly away; it certainly didn’t look like they were doing anything but huddling and hiding. There was no time for subtlety or properly shaped spells, and even such a [Withering] defense could be navigated by those hive mind spiders; Erick had seen it before.

For a brief moment spiders died and the true attack stood revealed, as invisibilities failed. The horde was the same size as all the rest Erick had killed. Millions of spiders. All hungry. All deadly. From the largest white mothers with their black lined bodies, to the smaller fully white males and younger spiders.

Against an undefended people, they were genocide.

Bulgan reached out, easy as flipping his hand around, and canceled the nearest [Withering] hanging in the sky. One layer out of seven vanished. And then he did it again, quick as a grip, ripping spellwork down through sheer force of will. Erick didn’t even see the characteristic dark flash of [Dispel].

Ophiels flew further, and higher, through the falling spiders, collecting them on the dense air of their floating platforms like semi trucks rushing through a bug swarm. Legs and eyes and splashing exoskeletons of spiders that had yet to die to the [Withering], fell to the wayside.

Bulgan killed another Ophiel from over two kilometers away; a twist of a raised hand, and the [Familiar] imploded, then exploded. Shockwaves bounced through the horde, scattering dried corpses.

New Ophiels joined the battlefield, flying in from afar, casting [Withering] into the sky, with multiple layers over dozens of kilometers. Each of them cost 602 mana. Every expenditure took half a minute to regain, even with 76,000 Mana Regeneration.

Bulgan popped Erick’s [Familiar]s like they were overripe grapes. Casting [Prismatic Ward] across a floating platform bought each protected Ophiel an extra three or five seconds of life; enough for two or three spells, which they cast out as fast as they could. The sky filled with more easily and quickly dispersed [Withering]s and [Call Lightning]s, briefly turning the twilight morning back to deeper darkness. But Bulgan’s grip was irresistible; final. Clouds vanished. Thick airs dissipated.

Erick almost abandoned the extra defense of [Prismatic Ward]. Maybe he could get more spells out across the city if he abandoned the extra five seconds it took to construct the platforms and the dense air. Maybe Ophiel could fly faster without lugging around stone and defenses. But three seconds was still three seconds, and without those defenses, the spiders would tear Ophiel apart.

… Or maybe not. They had 17,000 effective Health, now. And they had [Greater Lightwalk].

Ophiels blipped into the sky, naked. They turned to untouchable light, and then they turned hard, and edged. There was no organization to their transformation; they simply became like clouds of luminous swords. Every Ophiel on the scene transformed, abandoning all defenses. Then they began to spin, chopping up—

Bulgan reached out, and soaked into the nearest Ophiel. Thin lines of substance cast long shadows into the spider filled morning. Those shadows rammed inward and ate the lightform [Familiar], like he was a simple, delicious snack. The Shade repeated the procedure against every Ophiel in sight.

In moments, Erick’s entire flight was gone. Erick summoned a [Scry] orb onto the battlefield, just to see what had happened.

Booming laughter once again filled the sky.

Bulgan stood upon his dark crystal, like a man made of void in the middle of the sun. Wreathed in gold-white radiance, the laughing Shade was the deepest pit of darkness Erick had ever seen.

Erick’s sight cut as Bulgan stared right at the [Scry] orb staring at him, and popped it.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

 

– – – –

 

Erick breathed hard. Cold sweat stained through his light shirt. Poi looked on from the other side of the room. Teressa stood guard by the door, watching both of them.

“Everything is happening too fast and my mana regen still isn’t enough!” Erick said.

Poi looked away from the air. He said, “We have potions.” He looked to Teressa. “Get them.”

Teressa blipped away in a flash of grey light.

“Right. Potions.” Erick laughed a harsh sound, as he joked, “I’ll have to get tested for intestinal rads afterward.” He looked to Poi. His voice turned strained. “I don’t know what to do. If I could use [Greater Lightwalk] I could have Ophiel hunt the invisible spiders in the city. But he ATE MY LIGHT, Poi! He can do that?! I know you said light make shadows stronger, but I never— He’s going to kill them all—” He said, “Wait. I have this left.”

Erick applied his last Favored Spell, to [Summon Ophiel]. 602 mana per Ophiel became 225, almost tripling his rate of summoning. 29 seconds per Ophiel became 11. He lifted his hand, and began summoning Ophiels. One, two, more. Each of them appeared hard edged, each of them already running [Hunter’s Instincts].

Erick turned on [Hunter’s Instincts] himself. Why hadn’t he done this before? He did not know.

Suddenly, everything seemed calmer. Quieter. The horror of the moment became a clinical experience, and somehow slower at the same time. This was the true power of [Hunter’s Instincts]; this disconnect. Shadelings were dying, and there was nothing Erick could do about that at this particular moment, but Erick’s mana was ticking upward.

And then he gave each Ophiel [Defend]. He should have been doing this, too. It might help.

 

 

Teressa blipped in, holding a small wooden box. She handed it over to Erick, asking, “Have you ever had a mana potion before?”

Erick said, “No,” as he opened the wooden box, which was more like a crate, now that he looked inside. He plucked a glass vial about half the size of his fist from inside. Blue liquid fully filled the vial, while white wax kept the juice inside. “Just down it, right?” He thumbed the wax off, easy as a flick of his finger, then downed the potion. It was made to be easy to use.

It tasted like blue light and burned like the world’s worst rotgut. Erick endured.

“Yup, just like that.” Teressa said, “One every minute with a max of five per week is the maximum dosage. The good ones last a minute. Those last a minute. It should multiply your Regen by 10, then taper off.”

Erick looked at his mana while Teressa spoke. The numbers on his Status rose normally for a few seconds, then, as the blue potion settled inside, his 21 mana per second Regen suddenly multiplied, turning into 210 per second. Ten seconds later, Erick had enough mana to resummon all of his Ophiel.

The first ones were already blipping across the Crystal Forest, to Candlepoint, with slitted eyes and hard feathers, and instincts out for blood.

 

– – – –

 

Ophiels tried to blip in three kilometers north, south, east, and west of Candlepoint, as well as every direction between those. But Bulgan’s Blessing had radiated far and wide, denying transport anywhere near the city. If Erick were to guess, he might be ten or even fifteen kilometers out. Candlepoint was barely a dot of rainbow in the distant, twilight horizon. The blot of dark-light atop the city was more than visible, though. Bulgan glowed with stolen power, like the bigger stars in the void above.

Erick was mad at Bulgan’s stolen light, in a disconnected sort of way. How did that even work? How did Bulgan steal power?