Chapter 169 – Learning the Hard Way

From her hill, Mirian watched the Akanan air yacht approach. In the end, it would be Troytin’s predictability and inflexibility that would do him in. And his inability to conceive of a world where allies are better than underlings.

Well, no sense ruminating on his deficiencies. Whatever they were, he had to go. Mirian waited for the airship to grow closer, then cast total camouflage and levitation. She rapidly rose up to meet the yacht, adjusting her course slightly as it approached.

She waited, just above where it would pass, then embraced the Dusk Waves dervish stance for the extra reaction time. As soon as the deck was below her, she dropped down. The watchman on the deck heard the thud and turned, but she held still until he turned back. Then Mirian headed below decks.

A carpeted spiral staircase brought her down to the first level. There, in the narrow hall, was Marshal Cearsia. She either noticed the distortion in the air or felt Mirian’s aura, because her spellbook was in her hand in an instant.

First, she’ll try the shackle spell, Mirian knew, and sure enough, she did. The force shackles disintegrated against her spell resistance. Mirian summoned Eclipse to her hand and gave a downward slice through the Marshal’s spellbook, which let out a burst of flame, then lunged, piercing her gut.

Cearsia grunted, then tried to blast Mirian with a raw heat spell as she staggered back. Mirian blocked it with a prismatic shield, then used a force blade spell to cut off her head. The woman dropped to the ground. Mirian opened the first cabin door. One of the agents. She sent force blades through him, slicing his bed to ribbons, then moved to the next cabin.

Troytin was sitting up in alarm. He reached for his spellbook.

Too late, Mirian thought with a snarl. She used a blast of raw force to knock it out of his reach, then used total hold person. That would prevent him from moving, biting down, or even breathing too hard. She used force blast on the wall. The warded wooden hull cracked. She used disintegration ray to knock out the easiest-to-reach reinforcing glyphs. Behind her, she could hear commotion. She used force blast again, and this time the hull buckled. A third time, and she burst a hole in the wall. Troytin’s eyes widened in alarm as the hull opened up into the open air, wind screaming by them.

Mirian continued to hold him with the spell, dragging him out into the air with her. She switched to the Lone Pine stance for endurance, and used force grapple to give herself the pushes she needed to stay the same speed as the ship. Then, she took aim at the stabilizing wings with magnetic detonation, enhancing it with her full power.

The metal anchoring the port wing shrieked as it was twisted. The ship began to list. She could just make out shouting over the roar of the wind. Mirian circled them under the ship, using more force grapples to keep them alongside it, then took aim at the second wing. With a gesture, it too exploded, ripping off entirely and shooting off behind them. Mirian used lift object to push the rear of the ship up, bringing the nose beyond any safe angle. With no stability, the airship began to spin, diving down as it did. Mirian used another magnetic explosion, this time aiming for the inside of the ship where she knew the primary spell engine was. The ship shuddered.

Mirian cut her inertia with levitation and descended straight down, Troytin in tow. The skiff continued forward, plummeting faster and faster until it hit the ground and erupted in flames. Mirian watched the wreckage to make sure there were no survivors as she continued her descent. Satisfied, she brought the two of them to the top of a hill where her myrvite-repelling wards were still in place. She used detect myrvite to double check nothing would bother them.

Troytin was looking at her, eyes watering because the total hold person spell was making it hard for him to blink. She used careful force blades to cut apart his clothing, leaving him only in his underwear. Sure enough, he had an arcane catalyst hidden in his boot. Mirian brought Troytin down so he was at eye level with her, then forced his mouth open, checking for any poison pills like Specter had. Nothing. She circled around him. Nothing. She checked his ears for any miniature devices, then used a series of divination spells to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

Satisfied, she released total hold person and switched it to hold person, which would just keep his limbs and body immobile.

“Got you,” she said, giving him a fake smile.

“Fuck you,” Troytin said in Eskanar, and spat at her.

Mirian blocked it with a raw burst of force, sending the spittle back into his face. “That’s not really endearing you to me. Not that it matters. In the end, I’m only talking to you because I want one thing from you.”

Troytin gave Mirian a condescending smirk. “You’ll get nothing from me. You might as well kill me. But whatever you try, it won’t work. See, there’s no way to pin me down. If you curse me, a priest will just break the curse. There’s no way for you to reach me, because your primitive little country doesn’t have proper airships. In the end, you are at my mercy. This little setback means nothing.”

Mirian looked bored. “You still think this is about you. Do you know anything meaningful about the time loop? About the leylines? The Divine Monument? The Ominian? About the apocalypse?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Troytin said smugly.

Mirian sighed. “Have you figured out that we were supposed to work together yet? Imagine. If you collected data on the leylines in Akana Praediar, I collected it here, and Ibrahim collected it in Persama, we could figure out what’s disrupting them. You could mobilize the resources of the Akanans, building great spell engines. Ibrahim would be able to unite all the warlords in Persama and provide the fuel. I could get Baracuel under my thumb, bringing together its researchers and unlocking the secrets of the Monument. Together, we might have actually been able to stabilize the leylines and stop the moonfall by now.”

Troytin laughed at her. “You’re a fool, and so is that Persaman rat. After you, he’s next. There’s only one Ominian. There is only ever one Prophet. And it will be me.”

Mirian looked him over. “Huh. You sure about that? You might want to… lift weights, maybe? Learn a few more spells? Grow a few inches?”

The other time traveler glared at her. She’d broached a sensitive subject for him. She knew from his illusion spells he liked to present himself as taller and more muscular. “The others underestimated me too,” he snapped. “And one by one, I ended them. Jherica will never wake up now. Celen succumbed to despair.” He laughed. “I didn’t even learn the others’ names. My little agents took care of them for me. The Ominian can see they were unworthy. After you all fall to me, the true trial will begin.”

Mirian froze. Had he really just let that slip? Or was he playing a game with her? “Where are they?” she asked.

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

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

That wasn’t going to work. “Did you know Specter was writing notes for herself all over your soul?” she asked.

That gave him pause. “Only a select few are blessed by the Ominian to be born with…” he started, but trailed off.

“Yeah, you really think the Ominian chose you as a Prophet, but wouldn’t bless you with soul magic? Look, you’ve been lied to by a lot of people, and you believe it because it feeds your ego. But the truth is a harder thing to face. Specter was manipulating you. Did you ever figure out where the hole above your bed came from?”

Troytin strained against his bonds.

Mirian rolled her eyes. “For all intents and purposes, I can hold you indefinitely. I just stood against Apophagorga, a cataclysm beast. Do you really think you stand a fucking chance against me?”

The other time traveler looked down, seeing her spellbook—really seeing it—for the first time. The ethereal shimmer of the Holy Pages. The adamantium and mythril frame.