Chapter 30 (Patreon)

1

Lyn went outside and took a force of the servant-caste Duskari towards the Western mountains. The journey took a little over three hours, and the sun was high overhead by the time they arrived at the cliff face. Right. Iron and Coal. She placed her palms on the mountainside and exhaled before taking a deep breath. "En ethiel an le / thalion min / an adhano na nin ir / a cenno nin idhren / tano anir a ring / trî i gaear / sui aglaro / a togo han / na ithil en-gond / nestad nin."

The earth rumbled and shook as her spell went off, and she felt her prodigious mana store drain to empty, before also draining the full amulet. The ground rumbled, and the Duskari behind her fell to their knees in awe, as the earth cracked open. All around Lyn, raw iron ore and coal was ripped up from the bowels of the earth before converging on her position, and deposited itself all around her. She slumped slightly. I wonder how far that spell reached. She turned to the servant Duskari. “This should satisfy our needs. Take a load today, each of you, as much as you can comfortably carry.” She made sure to emphasize that word. “And then you can make a few more trips tomorrow.”

The Duskari nodded and began loading up their satchels, and Lyn kept a watch on them, ensuring that none were overburdened in their eagerness to serve the fledgling empress. And I need to make them know that they are to be treated fairly. She smirked; I need my own James Madison to help me write up my own version of the Bill of Rights. Thomas would be a good starting point. She pulled out the metal-mirror array and unfolded it, channeling mana into each of them. Cecily’s amulet showed nothing but the magical equivalent of static. Well, I didn’t expect her to keep it anyways. Volio’s and James’ still worked, and the latter appeared to be training troops. But Volio was moving quickly through the streets. What’s he doing?

Channeling more mana to enable audio, she focused on Volio’s emblem.

2

It was not difficult for Volio to evade Cecily’s soldiers once he made it out of the palace. A few tiny bolts shot from his tiny crossbow – which technically counted as a valid target for a unique spell that only he could use. “Adhano na phain nin galu,” he muttered, as he teleported and switched places with the toothpick-sized bolt. He continued running through the streets of the crowded city, firing off several shots and teleporting in rapid succession until he was well and truly lost in the sprawl.

Finding a darkened alley, he ducked alongside a garbage receptacle and hunkered down, breathing heavily from his run. That was close, he thought. He had felt Cecily’s spell impact him; but he kept running. What did she try to do? He checked over his body and didn’t find anything missing. Examining his gear and equipment, he appeared to have everything he came with. I need to find Brad.

James had asked him to deliver a letter, and Volio was already on that path. But how do I find him. He couldn’t scour a whole kingdom. Think, Volio. He leaned his head back against the stone. I can’t fail her, he thought, as he pulled Lyn’s clothes out once more and inhaled her scent. I have to deliver the package. He put the object away and breathed deeply, drawing up his mana and extended the channels to his eyes. I hate divination. It was always severely disorienting, as if one’s eyes were pulled from their sockets and went flying away. "En ethiel an le / thalion min / an adhano na nin ir / a senno nin ind / na i ennas / en-iath / aníron."

He felt his body go slack against the wall as his consciousness flew out across the city – first up, and then over, towards the palace. It was then that he saw something that shocked him – the whole of the palace was surrounded by dozens upon dozens of inscription circles. Protection of all types. The place is a fortress. If someone had enough mana, say one of the heroes, they could activate all those inscriptions and the stronghold would be impenetrable.

But they weren’t active. One of the benefits of Volio’s standoffish behavior – people thought he was a coward. Cecily would never expect me to go back. His sight coursed down until it was floating outside of a window in one of the wings of the palace. Marking the location in his mind, his consciousness returned to his body, and he jolted upright. Drawing his bow, he strung it, pulled out one of the glass arrows – something that would fly much farther and faster than his wooden ones, that would also be incredibly hard to see – and let it fly.

He counted down the seconds. One…Two…Three… “Adhano na phain nin galu.” The world warped around him, and he stood where the arrow would have landed and shattered – inside of the palace, in an alchemist workshop.

He saw a figure – thicker in neck and body than the last time he had seen him. And he shaved his head? Volio chuckled, which prompted the man to turn around, holding a flask. But his face softened as he saw the Archer hero. “Volio? Is that you?”

“Hi…Brad.”

The Alchemist hero dropped the vial and hugged Volio. The Archer hero just stood there, shocked. No one hugs me, he thought. Something must be wrong with him. Did he fry his brain? He pulled away from the man, and saw that Brad was bawling, crying his eyes out. “Umm…Hey…”

Brad looked up, “Are you here to get me out?”

“Erm…” Volio pulled out James’ letter and Brad took it gingerly, breaking the seal and unfolding it before scanning it rapidly. “Oh,” he said. Surprised, almost. “So that’s how it is then?” He crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire, letting his shoulders droop in defeat. “Thanks for visiting, I guess. Why not come in the usual way?” Brad asked, gesturing to the door.

“Cecily…erm…kicked me out.” Volio pulled out the package from Lyn and handed it to the man. Brad unwrapped it and read the letter, his eyes going wide as he did so. “Lyn is alive,” Volio confirmed as Brad looked up at him, seeking validation.

The Alchemist hero sat down on his stool and the letter dropped from his fingers as he gripped the metal symbol of Lyn’s new empire. “This…holy shit.” He looked up at Volio and wiped the tears away, “If Khrelardia doesn’t want me, maybe Lyn’s new empire will.” He stood up and began throwing items into a pack, “Come on, help me out!”

Volio did as he was instructed, and it was then as he was packing a bag of supplies that he noticed the windows were not just slatted – they were barred. Is she keeping him prisoner? He thought. Taking in more of the room, he saw the deplorable state; food that was partly moldy, a shackle that connected to the bed, an overflowing chamber pot. I have to get him out of here. But how?

Brad threw on the items and pulled a potion from his waist. “I’ve been saving this to get away. But I never could get far…but you can get us far.” He unstopped and chugged it down, pocketing the vial. His voice began to get higher pitched, and his body shrunk down. “Come on Volio! Put me in your pocket!” He kept shrinking until he was the size of an action figure.

Volio gingerly picked the man up and put him in his pocket. He heard the muffled, high-pitched voice. “Why are there panties in here?”

Volio blushed as he moved the man to a different pocket, “Don’t touch that. It’s mine.” He pulled his bow, nocked another glass arrow, and loosed it as he teleported away.

3

Lyn closed the inscribed metal scrying screen and put it back into the storage space. Escorting the servant-Duskari back, she talked to them. Not as an equal – she had to always maintain an air of superiority for her eventual plan to come to fruition – but she genuinely was curious how society worked for them.

The servant-caste were not born into that life. It was only allocated to those who did not show martial or magical potential in their youth. They were the crafters, the farmers, the herders – anything that was not fighting or spell oriented. They were treated as a supporting underclass. They were not discriminated against like the Helots were by the Spartans, and the warrior-caste did not treat them poorly. It’s more of a skill distinction disguised as a class divide, she thought. Their careers decide their caste. It was still something she hoped to shift culturally among the Duskari, but it was not as bad as she first perceived it to be.

They also shared their beliefs and – for lack of a better term – their religious system. They worshipped the Destroyer. But not because of what it would do, but rather, what it did. In their version of Ghomar’s history, there was once a single deity that split itself into two. Aelor, the Creator, and Raevan, the Destroyer. Aelor would make new things – races and places – and if they ended up going astray, Raevan would destroy them.

The Ari were one such creation. Aelor was not satisfied with them and told Raevan to wipe them off the face of Ghomar. But Raevan heard their pleas and instead had them swear to serve her. Those who did became the Duskari, as the Destroyer’s power marked them. This led to a rift between the two deities, once half of the same whole. Raevan proved the more powerful of the two, and Aelor realized that they could not go against his nature to destroy the Ari. And so, Aelor split himself into twenty Hero mana cores, diving its power. Those cores were granted to those who showed reverence, and the first heroes were able to use their powers in a hostile way.

Those heroes gathered all the races and cultures and pointed them squarely at the Duskari. Raevan’s power kept them at bay. Hence, their worship of and devotion to the Destroyer.

That left Lyn contemplating her new existence once more. I’ve got the power of a deity. She had the Destroyer mana core, and it was on its own stronger than any other mana core. But all twenty heroes, combining their efforts, if they were skilled enough, would be an equal match. But the Demonic Dragon…the second incarnation of the Destroyer…those heroes all stuck to conventional warfare and tactics. She defeated the thing because she was solely focused on killing it and had honed herself to do so. And, as its own statement had clarified, she was the Scout hero – it underestimated her.

The idea still resounded through her, though. She had the power of a god. The Destroyer. And she knew she could consume Hero cores – her own Scout core was proof enough of that. What if I got all twenty hero cores?.

What she needed was someone who was smart. Someone who knew more about Ghomar and its history than her. What she needed was Thomas. If he can verify this history, or maybe combine their learning with his own…he could unravel the mystery of how this world was created. And, maybe, he could theorize on her own idea regarding consuming all twenty Hero cores.

She arrived at Lynhold with the servant-caste in tow and made sure to exhort their excellent work in front of the warriors – not to foment a hatred, but to demonstrate that all efforts towards building her new empire were appreciated. As she was about to head inside, Vael and Gael approached. “My Lord,” they said in tandem, bowing and saluting.

“At ease. Is the tunnel secure?”

Gael nodded, “Yes, Lord Rivers.”

“And” Vael added, “Two squads have been dispatched as per your instructions. One is going to find the Diplomat candidate and escort them back. The other group is shadowing.”

“Excellent.” Lyn looked out over the Newen and Duskari who were training under watchful eyes of the Military Advisors, Slanosh, Poweno, and Remora. “A good start.” She looked back to the twins. “And what of the messenger to the Healer hero’s school?”

“My Lord, they are to leave on the ‘morrow.”

“Tell them to cancel their trip. The Archer hero is heading North. Soon enough, the Healer hero will have my letter.” And I hope to God that she decides to come. I need all the help I can get.

4

Trisha went down to the hospital and healer school. Checking in and washing down, she entered the trauma ward. She sat down next to the despondent Berserker hero. “Hi, Kory. How are you doing today?”

He looked at her and she saw the hollowness in his eyes. Jacobson was laying on a nearby vacant bed, his mercenary companion seemingly asleep as he snored away. “I…” Kory winced and reached down toward his stump. “It feels like it’s still there.”

Trisha nodded, “I know. Phantom pain. Once we get your prosthetic fitted and start to induce your mana channels to…grow…through the artificial limb, I’ll teach you some internal spells that will give you feeling again. The only difference between this and the real thing is this will need to be replaced every few years.”

Kory nodded and turned away. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“I do need to re-do your bandages and ensure that the antiseptic is working.” She leaned over and began to remove the dressing. His stump was healing nicely. Good. The last thing I need is to cut off more. She applied more of the antibiotic plants her students were growing in their medicinal herb garden and re-wrapped it with fresh cotton. I wish we had real gauze, though. She sighed.

Kory looked over at her, and for the first time since he arrived, showed an emotion other than anger or sorrow. He chuckled lightly. “Tired?” he asked.

Trisha nodded and leaned back in the chair, “Genavieve is a crier. Ben’s turn to sleep last night.” She yawned.

Kory smiled gently, “Class mom turned actual mom.” His face shifted and hardened, all trace of mirth, gone. “You guys should leave,” he muttered as he looked out the Southern windows.

Trisha shook her head, “Why is that?”

“War is coming,” he said with a grin. “And the further you and yours get away from it…the better off you’ll be.”

She stood up, “We have our own means of leaving if we must.”

Kory chuckled, “What? That inscription to get back to Earth? The one that Thomas told all of us about, right? ‘Go to Trisha and Ben’s house if you need to get off Ghomar fast,’ that bullshit?” He let out a guffaw before his lips tightened into a grimace once more. “There’s no going back home. This is home. Live it up while you’re here.” He gave a look towards one of her students who was attending to an injured farmer that had arrived in the morning. “I know I’m going to.”

Trisha tutted and stood, leaving the room. If war is coming, she thought, then Trisk is probably safe enough. Plus, their home was built upon a large slab of rock that her husband had dredged up, and Misty had inscribed with so many protection spells that, if they needed to, they could survive for months within. No…we’ll be fine here.

But she was afraid. Afraid that, should worst come to worst, and they used the inscription to return to Earth…what would happen? Would her children come with her? Would they revert to their age before leaving? How much time had passed?

There are too many unknowns.

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