Chapter 135 – The Anomaly

The next cycle, Mirian saluted Rostal and they began their bout.

Rostal liked to tell her to go all-out, but Mirian knew he didn’t really mean it. Otherwise, she would just fly up and hit him with lightning until he gave up. Instead, she started with The Spear That Cuts Water, turning back Rostal’s initial attack. As soon as he relented, she switched to The Dance of Dusk Waves and came in with several rapid cuts that demanded answers. That pushed him back across the courtyard and left him with a gash across the arm.

Rostal took the initiative back, using the strength of Last Breath of the Phoenix to try and disarm her when their blades crossed (such a hypocrite, Mirian thought). Then he switched to The Sinister Hand of Shadow, pulling a dagger from his belt and attacking her with both rapier and off-hand in an unrelenting deluge.

Mirian kept her stance as water, flowing across the courtyard, making sure he couldn’t pin her in place. Their bladework became incidental to their footwork, and both vied for superior positioning.

“Hmm!” Rostal called. “I don’t believe I taught you. Your footwork is sloppy. Your bladework is abominable!”

Mirian grinned. Only a fool listened to taunts during a duel, and anyways, she’d heard that one before. She switched again to the lightning form, uncoiling with a powerful lunge that Rostal only just avoided. It forced him away from the center of the courtyard, though Mirian got a slash from the parrying dagger for her trouble.

They recovered, both sweating in the afternoon sun, then engaged again in a clatter of steel. “You must be getting old, if young girls are giving you such a problem!” she taunted.

Rostal stifled a laugh, then came at her again. “Alright, I’ll stop going easy,” he said.

He feinted an overhand slash, but used The Dance of Dusk Waves to enhance his speed and threw his parrying dagger at her.

Only Mirian’s own use of the stance gave her the reaction time she needed. She deflected the dagger with a burst of raw magic, only to find that Rostal was coming in with the Phoenix’s strength. He smashed his blade into hers, once, twice, then a third time. If Mirian had been able to swap to the Lone Pine stance, she might have weathered it, but her rapier went flying from her hand as Rostal smashed it from her numb fingers.

Mirian dodged back.

“Yield?” Rostal asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mirian gave him an evil grin and summoned Eclipse. The bright blade materialized in her hand, and she came at him with the speed of lightning. Rostal’s eyes went wide. He backpedaled rapidly under the onslaught, deflecting Mirian’s flurry of blows. That put the courtyard wall to his back. Mirian swapped to the stance of stone, putting some real power behind her next swing. Rostal blocked it—

—but his blade snapped in half, and Mirian leveled her rapier at his throat.

Rostal looked at the mythril and adamantium blade. “This is gorgeous,” he said. “May I look at it?”

“Sure,” Mirian said, and flipped it around to hand to him.

Rostal sighed. “I am getting old. In my youth, I would have had you on the followup after the disarm. Never grow old, Mirian. It’s simply a terrible idea. All you get are strange aches and pains, and the hard work you put into your body falls off twice as fast.” He glanced up from Eclipse to look at her. “Actually, you have that covered, don’t you?”

“I do,” Mirian said. “It’s at least one of the things I can be thankful for.”

Over eight years of loops, and none of it showed on her face. Thirty. I should be thirty years old now, she thought.

Rostal ran his finger across the blade. “A masterpiece. Simply a masterpiece. And the classic Alatishian basket-hilt.” He flicked Eclipse around, feeling the weight of it. “Fascinating. I want one.”

Mirian laughed. “I did try to see if I could get duplicates. Alas.” When Rostal went to hand the sword back, she closed her eyes and let it dematerialize back into her soul.

“I wonder if the old hierophants knew how to do that.”

“Doubtful,” Mirian said. She was fine showing people Eclipse, but there was no way she was going to even mention the word ‘relicarium’ to anyone. If there was one thing she didn’t want the other time travelers knowing about, it was that. “Say, you mind going on a trip? There’s a phenomenon north of Alkazaria that keeps happening. I want to check it out.”

Rostal’s face stayed passive, but Mirian could tell what he was thinking. She’d already mentioned Ibrahim’s presence near there.

“We have a few days before Alkazaria is besieged. Besides, I intend to travel overland on the old northern route to avoid the capital. It’s outside the spellwards, but there should be traveler’s obelisks I can repair. We can ride eximontar.”

Rostal shivered. “I will not be riding one of those.”

“No? I can manage feeding mana to both…”

“Absolutely not.”

“Camels?”

“Beasts were not meant to be ridden.” He paused. “Camels don’t like me either. I suspect they can sense…”

Gods, he’s afraid of riding, Mirian realized. The great warrior Rostal. “How do you feel about… flying?”

The dervish pondered that, running hand through his peppered hair. “I’ve… never tried it?”

“Great, we’ll try it. I can only do it in bursts, but it’ll save us several days of travel. Hmm… if we’re not going to take beasts of burden, we’re going to need to cram a lot of supplies on our backs. Do you know how to cook desert drake?”

He grinned. “I’ll make sure to pack my spices.”

With that settled, Mirian went around to various shops, gathering traveler’s packs for the two of them and comfortable tents. Rostal packed his traveling cooking set, and Mirian spent the evening scribing most of the utility spells they’d need such as gather water, then made sure her scribing inks were topped off in case the traveler’s obelisks were more damaged than usual. She also bought Rostal a replacement rapier.

Mirian assumed her Micael disguise, and offered to do something similar for Rostal.

“No thank you,” he said stiffly.

“Alright,” she told him. “Let me know if you change your mind. I don’t know for sure, but we might encounter Ibrahim’s men. I hope not, but it’s a possibility.”

“I’ll talk to them as I am,” he said proudly.

Mirian slept in one of his many empty guest rooms. In the morning, they departed for the train station.

***

They only looked a little ridiculous carrying their huge packs onto the train. The journey up to Cairnmouth was quick. As they arrived at the station, Mirian kept her eyes out for Deeps agents or Praetorians, but only saw the usual guards.

While waiting for the train heading east, Mirian picked up a few broadsheets. Word had just reached the city of the colossal defeat of the Baracueli forces a day ago, and of Dawn’s Peace’s rapid advance towards the second capital.

Interesting. He’s been iterating on the initial victory. This time, it’s shocking enough that they might even send Hanaran’s division.

There were a few towns on the train tracks before Alkazaria. It was possible that if they continued towards Alkazaria, they’d be just in time to arrive and depart before the siege. However, it seemed that Ibrahim had figured out how to seize the trains by the Southern Range intact, and somehow prevent the line from being sabotaged. His initial force, then, had a shorter distance to move from Rambalda to Alkazaria than they did. That, and it was quite possible he had agents and spies moving ahead of his forces.

Mirian didn’t want to risk it.

They got off the train at a town small enough Mirian forgot its name by the time they’d left the platform. She was tempted to count houses to see if Arriroba was bigger.

The locals thought they were crazy for setting off on the old trader’s route, but they were happy enough to sell them food at inflated prices. Mirian was happy enough to unload her excess silver because all it would do is weigh her down.

She used the Blooming Red Iron form even as they walked. The increased physical endurance would help her cross the passes to Frostland’s Gate faster, and was always handy in a fight.

Near evening, Mirian flew them to the next obelisk. Rostal, it turned out, didn’t like flying any more than he liked riding. “Every man should be afraid of heights,” he said. “God gave the birds wings and humans legs. It’s enough for an honest soul,” he said to Mirian’s light jabs at him.

After he’d settled down and Mirian had repaired the traveler’s obelisk, they practiced again, with Mirian maintaining the training form as she went through her lunges, parries, and then the various footwork exercises. That night, she ate most of their packed rations.

It took them three days to make it to a village behind a spellward. By then, the place was in a panic because Dawn’s Peace had besieged Alkazaria. The trains on the northern line hadn’t been cut yet, but they were afraid they might be.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Have there been any suspicious travelers coming from down south?” Mirian asked. “Perhaps… Persaman-looking?”

“Just you,” one of the villagers said with a suspicious glare.

“Ah, we’re about to leave anyways,” she told her. “Anything I should know about the northern road?”

“There’s no spellwards that way,” the woman said.

“Obelisks?”

“Maybe. No one goes there. What’s north?”

“A strange reading. We’re magical researchers,” she said. “There’s a competing group. Just hoping we’re ahead of them.”

Rostal raised an eyebrow at her. He looked less like a magical research than anyone ever. Well, maybe Zayd looked less like one, but it was a close thing.

“Oh? One of our wells has a broken pump. Can you fix it? We have the silver.”

“I’ll do it for lodgings and a hot meal,” Mirian said. “The Academy is funding our expedition generously, so don’t worry.”