Chapter 232 – More Paths on the Fields

They progressed to more advanced spirits quickly. It didn’t take long before Mirian’s head was spinning with the complexity of it. When she finally was having trouble keeping it all in her head, that was when Xecatl introduced her to weaving diagrams. The simple ones were made of two sticks with colored yarn tied to each end. When the sticks were pulled apart, the strings grew taut. Each stick was carved with totemic images.

They went to a children’s school to look at the first one.

“…these get the conceptual idea across to the children early in their lives so that the more difficult concepts are easier for those who go on to be nagual. Though, any citizen should understand something of spirits. Here, the yellow yarn originates from a carving representing ‘sun,’ moving light energy to ‘earth.’ Since it becomes heat energy, we get a red piece of yarn originating from ‘earth’ that then goes to a carving on the other side representing ‘child.’”

Mirian nodded along. “Simple enough.”

Xecatl continued talking, building up the concepts. At a certain point, it became necessary to have split strings, where a yellow ‘light’ force became both heat and food for a plant. Then it became necessary to have different strands of yarn tied to each other as, for example, a myrvite plant’s root network spread. Then they started adding carved and colored beads to the strings to represent phenomena that only emerged from energies interacting. After that, they moved from the schoolhouse to the Academy and Xecatl unfurled a weaving diagram that had six sides, each with dozens of strings meeting in tangles in the center.

When she saw Mirian’s despair, she laughed and said, “We’ll stop there for the day. You have a lecture to give anyways.”

That she did.

Mirian found it odd to stand in front of a room of a hundred people explaining glyphs and alchemistry, giving a lecture like she was some sort of professor. Logically, she knew that she’d surpassed Torres’s artificing knowledge years ago, that she now knew arcane physics that Endresen had never heard of, and that she could match Jei in her understanding of mathematics, if not her speed. But it felt strange to stand in front of so many people, speaking to them about basic magic, especially since every face in the audience was older than hers. At first, her lectures were probably unfathomable because she kept assuming everyone knew things she knew. It was actually Xipuatl who helped her pull back and create limits. She found that imposing ideas she couldn’t talk about helped streamline the lectures, and from the faces of the nagual attending, it was clear there was less bafflement and more understanding.

Xipuatl also worked with her to come up with basic assessments the nagual she was instructing could take to prove mastery. “We don’t want them feeding Ceiba Yan a bunch of nonsense because they misunderstood something, right?”

That made sense.

The days passed quickly. Mirian split her practice between her usual routines and the new techniques. The only thing she couldn’t do was artifice; Tlaxhuaco manufactured none of the magichemicals she’d need. It didn’t even make the tools she’d need to distill those magichemicals herself. The supplies she’d brought with her had, of course, sank with the cutter. That also limited how much practical techniques she could have the nagual she was teaching perform. One couldn’t scribe glyphs without a glyphpen or the magical inks. Sometimes, she found herself frustrated and pacing because she just wanted the leyline measurements here done.

“Have you mapped out where the leviathans attack?” Mirian asked Xecatl one evening as they were eating on a balcony overlooking the city. The flavors weren’t quite like home, but at least they knew what spices were here.

“It changes. These leviathans are like your Apophagorga. They remember. It was the loop after we killed one that they began to attack. I think it ended up being a blessing, though. They’ve become quite useful for sinking Akanan ships.”

“Yes, but there’s only so much we can transport by airship. Unless…” Mirian thought about the leyline repulsion devices the Akanans were using. How would they fare in a place where the leylines are so weak? “Well, there’s a few things we can try. Assuming Liuan can get her people under control.” Assuming she wants to get them under control. Still, she couldn’t see why Liuan would be harassing Tlaxhuaco. She was missing something.

Always missing something.

The conversation moved on, and they talked about little things. There were a thousand minor cultural differences: the way people addressed each other, what was permissible when dancing, how the food was served at a table—and so many others. Xecatl didn’t notice them because they were normal to her, but was happy to explain when Mirian asked. It might do her good to see Akana or Baracuel, at least once.

One thing led to another, and Mirian started rambling about how she’d defended Torrviol from Akana Praediar’s attack so many years ago. “How does the equipment here work? It doesn’t look at all like what I’d expect.” That was the nice way of saying it. Her first instinct when she’d seen the bows and wooden armor was that they looked beautiful but would be worthless in a modern battle.

Xecatl snapped her fingers and let out a burst of magic. Mirian still wasn’t sure how the signals worked. Without a word, though, one of the bodyguards that followed them around disappeared and then reappeared a minute later with a cuirass, battle staff, and bow.

“Tlaxhuaco has always been poor in iron, so we’ve had to make do. Our equipment procurement is based on our military doctrine, which is, in turn, based on our analysis of military history. What’s the number one killer in a modern clash between armies?”

“Artillery,” Mirian said instantly. Even small batteries could put out spells with the power of a Praetorian, and the larger ones, the power of an archmage. More, they could fire at greater distances, and more consistently.

“Precisely. Second?”

“Rifle infantry. Simply because there’s more of them. Battlemages and sorcerers inflict casualties at higher rates. Or enable infantry attacks that wouldn’t otherwise be possible.”

“And who’s likely to attack us?”

“Akana Praediar, of course.”

“So our resources have been put into countering that threat, and figuring out how to punch holes in any offensive thrust they direct to our islands. Ironically, there had been multiple attempts to commune with sea serpents and other large myrvites prior to the leviathan incident—none successful. All this time, and it turns out all we needed to do is kill a leviathan and they’d do the work for us. But back to doctrine. How do you assess their forces?”

Mirian examined the cuirass as she talked, her meal forgotten. “The auramancers would fold instantly. Your soul magic would be too effective at piercing them. Akana has hamstrung themselves, just like Baracuel, with their overly aggressive bans on soul magic. However, that’s only important on the squad level. If you’d asked me before I got here, I would have said the artillery would devastate your ranks, but now I think you must have taken that into account.” She looked closer at the wooden armor. “Hmmm. I recognize only a handful of these runes. And you’re not creating them with the scribing methods I’m familiar with.”

Xecatl asked, “You mentioned you know some Zhighuan crystal magic. Do you have to shape a crystal with a chisel?”

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“No, it grows into a form naturally—ah, I see. The runes emerge as part of the process, you don’t scribe them.”

“Yes. Wooden armor is, of course, complete trash in isolation. It’s heavy, inflexible, and worse in a hot climate. The only way to make it comparable to steel is to lean heavily on the properties of myrvites. Spirits dissipate if the things making them up die, but certain properties can remain once they’ve been grown or shaped. Our Elder reliquaries are best tuned to honing all plant life. You haven’t seen the farms yet, but we grow myrvites at scale on them. The trees are carefully treated as they grow. What we end up with is this result: a wood that integrates several spells. They’re like your enchantments, but longer lasting, and in some cases, more potent. I think, if I understand it correctly, a Baracueli arcanist would be able to achieve something similar with artifice, but at too great an expense for standard infantry. Some of the effects, I’m led to believe, would require a spell engine.”

Mirian continued to examine the armor. “A natural enchantment. No, layers of them. Powerful enough they must deplete rapidly. What replenishes them?”

“If they can be trained, the soldier can. If they can’t, there’s spirit constructs that can do it.”

“Ah. It relies on being on the defensive, since you can’t exactly drag your gardens around. But that’s the war you expect.”

“Precisely. The end result is armor that resists piercing, resists all arcane and celestial spells, and can be easily repaired with certain regrowth spells. There’s also an inherent cooling spell.”

“The bows are similar, then? Natural enchantments that increase the force the arrow leaves the bow with, I assume. And perhaps arrows with their own properties?”

“Yes. The role of an archer is to try to snipe officers. Our lack of steel means any mage or shield device using magnetism is, in a word, useless. But we know the Akanans have put a great deal of resources into magnetic shields.”

Mirian picked up the battle staff next. She could see the shimmer of different myrvite woods intertwined, as well as where dozens of glyphs and runes had grown. In other places, it looked like one myrvite plant had been grafted onto another. Fascinating. They don’t know how to scribe glyphs, but it’s because they found an entirely different way to make them. After all, what is a glyph except a mix of magichemicals put in the correct form? But why distill them when you can have them grow? They lack access to the artisans and factories that produce modern arcanist technologies, but they’ve found a way around that.

She was silent for the rest of the evening, simply lost in thought, trying to run through the possibilities that opened up. Sylvester Aurum’s factories are incredibly potent at producing spell engine components, but they’d have to be re-configured completely to build what I need. Would growing some of the components be faster or slower? Could we repurpose myrvite plants that are already growing? How flexible are these spirit constructs?