29 - A glimpse of the future

We can’t win this war. Not against the Exiled and the Order of the Broken Moon.

We have decades of experience fighting the Hidden Schools, and even the Faceless Army. It’s a bloody, destructive war of quick strikes and counterstrikes. They blow up a base, our ghosts kill a Master. We retake a fortress, their mind-mages make our ace pilot stab herself in the chest.

It’s terrible, but ThauCon can deal with it.

When the Order comes, the sky breaks, whole armies turn against each other, the sand of the desert takes the shape of monsters and joins the battle. If Council mages or heavy ThauCon formations dig in, Tainedorian herself comes, and nothing can stand against her.

Furthermore, our operational doctrine of catching mages unprepared is useless against the Order - after a battle, they simply retreat to the Moon.

We must face the truth. The Council Battle Forces were vital to defeat the Order in the past, but after Kalester, they’re no longer a match for the enemy.

We need an entirely new strategy, if we’re to deal with the Exiled and her mages.

- Report of Private Hareys, for ThauCon Intelligence, during the Zelenian war.

By the end of my dinner date with Althea, I have an incredibly hot and funny and passionate girlfriend, and I can’t believe my luck.

Snow is drizzling again as we walk back into Rakavdon Base, but I barely notice the cold anymore. The only thing I can think about is the secluded, unused room I found at the end of Corridor A while mapping the base for Quicksilver.

I might be a little bit drunk, my legs are quite unsteady. Or maybe I’m using that as an excuse to walk arm in arm with Althea. That must be it. All part of my plan.

“I can’t believe I kissed a mage,” I say. “They tell us so much bullshit in training. They don’t tell you mages are so smart. Good. Hot.”

“And wait till you fuck a mage,” Althea says, as we shamble our way to the entrance. “You know I can move stuff with my mind, right? You wouldn’t believe…”

The idea of having sex with a mage while she uses magic is so sacrilegious, for a ThauCon, that the shock almost turns me off completely. But I think a moment about it, and wait, that sound amazing. It must be the alcohol compromising my morals.

“I didn’t mean to have sex this evening,” I say, out of some vague sense of propriety, “it was, like, a talk about it date.”

“Yeah, date’s over, we’re home,” Althea says. “Fuck now?”

“Ok, ok, you’re too smart and persuasive, I’m sold,” I say, “I think I know a room…”

Althea puts a hand over my mouth before I can finish the phrase. “Wait,” she says, suddenly alert.

It takes me a moment to realize what she’s seen. Faint silvery light, reflecting on the snow. It’s the too-vivid, too-rich color of magic.

By instinct, I reach for my sword, but of course it’s not there. The source must be round the corner, in front of the living quarters. Lost Stars, my brain feels full of jelly. I must call Kealich, I must…

The silver light goes round the corner, and it’s Za Ruik, Team Gold’s mage.

He’s barefoot in the snow, wearing shorts and a faded t-shirt. A regular person would literally die in a few minutes, but spending some time with Althea, I know mages have ways to deal with the cold.

What surprises me is that half of Za Ruik’s body is made of glowing, silvery Else-glass. His whole right arm, the left to the elbow, and both legs are disincarnated. Half the face is disturbingly mottled with real skin and silver light. At first, I think he’s actively using magic, but he’s just standing, looking at us. Does it mean this is his normal appearance? Has he disincarnated that far? Usually, only his hands and eyes look disincarnated – but a mage can revert to flesh for a while, if they actively concentrate on it.

“Is everything ok?” Althea asks, quickly disentangling her arm from mine. “We were, uh, we were…”

“You were going to have sex. And you were talking very loudly about it,” he says, with a smile. He looks much more present than he did most of the times we spoke.

“It would be really nice if you could keep this private,” Althea says, sounding halfway between begging and patronizing.

The mage laughs. He really looks young, he has something carefree about him.

“Everyone with eyes knows,” he says. “I can barely remember what year it is, most of the time. And I had still bet on you getting together before midwinter.”

“Wait, what?” I ask, vaguely outraged, but mostly concerned about officers already knowing about us. I’ve been careful to keep a low profile with it.

“Don’t worry too much,” Za Ruik says, his eyes losing focus. “The captain probably knows, but she doesn’t care. Lieutenant Ekarin…”

He frowns. “No, wait. Sareas. Sareas is your LT, right? They change so quickly. Sareas would care, but he doesn’t know, he’s not very observant about people.”

“Well, uh,” I say, “thanks for the warning. Shouldn’t you go inside? It’s cold.”

He’s not using a spell to repel the cold, I think - the snow doesn’t melt around his body, and what little skin he has is going gray.

“Oh. Cold,” he says, sounding surprised. He looks up, at the falling snow. “It doesn’t matter that much, once you have so little flesh left. And I wanted to talk to you, away from prying eyes.”

I almost protest that I had different plans for the evening, but despite the fuzziness in my head, I realize this is important. Either because he has something meaningful to tell us, or because our most powerful mage is going Veil-mad.

“Well,” Althea says, “we’re listening. Could we go inside? It’s cold. It’s no problem for me, but I can’t keep Cerical warm. Well, not in a socially acceptable manner. We can talk in an empty room.”

“It’s safer outside. An empty room is no guarantee of being alone. There’s one who doesn’t need eyes to watch. She can see a lot, through the eye she sacrificed.” He says, his voice getting dreamier, more like he usually sounds. “The cold won’t be a problem.”

Well, of course won’t be a problem for him. But even with the snow coat, it’s starting to seep under my layers. As I think that, however, he waves a hand, and the cold… goes away. It’s not like the air heats around me, I simply don’t feel cold anymore. Is it an illusion? Will I get frostbite and not notice?

And who is he talking about – the eye she sacrificed. I suppose that means Aeniki, if one likes to be pointlessly dramatic. Is he worried that she’ll overhear?

Za Ruik sits on the snow cross-legged, and gestures for us to do the same. “Sit, please,” he says, but he’s not looking at us. He’s gazing at the waning moon, and at the blood-red crack in the sky. As we watch, a swarm of bright red dots scatter from the crack. Demons.

“You’re very powerful,” Althea says. There’s surprise, and a hint of envy, in her voice.

Za Ruik shakes his head. “I was, maybe. Powerful enough to survive Zelenia, powerful enough to save my team. But now? I’m a bundle of broken glass, kept together by my friends’ stubbornness, and some leftover sense of duty. Power you can’t use is no power at all.”

“About that, should you be using magic at all?” Althea asks, worried. “I can do the heating spell if…”

“Girl,” he says, and for the first time since I met him, he sounds annoyed. “I might be two or three good spells away from death, but I can do a heating circle. It’s real magic that I can’t use. And I need to Channel a little from the Else anyway, to be… linear. To be able to talk to you. Time doesn’t flow right, otherwise.”

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

He grins. “The future,” he answers, “what else?”

I can’t get over how young he looks, I can’t convince myself he’s as old as Khor and Revi. I always assumed an old mage would be distant and somber, despite the young body, but Za Ruik seems… carefree, enthusiastic.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He flourishes a small leather pouch from his pocket. With careful gestures, he pours the content into his palm - a bunch of small, flat white pebbles with rough edges. Each has a single glyph engraved on both sides, and the engravings glow silver.

“Do you know what these are?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Divination aids,” Althea says, and she sounds disapproving. “These are… unproven to work. I thought the Council didn’t even make them.”

Za Ruik laughs.

“The Council doesn’t make them,” he says. “I took them from the corpse of a Knight of the Broken Moon. That guy could fly all the way to the Moon and I saw him level a building with a gesture. If they were good enough for him, they’re good enough for me.”

“This is a major spell,” Althea presses on, “your teammates said you shouldn’t do it.”

He nods. “My teammates worry that if I use magic, I’ll forget about them and walk into the Else.”

I try to understand if it’s a joke, but he goes on, after a pause. “They’re right, of course. I will, sooner or later. The Last Horizon calls me, and it’s hard to remember why I should stay here. Harder, when I use magic. But these stones make it safer – they’re only a crude approximation of summoning the shadow of the future. But they allow me a bit of Sight, without diving deep into the Else.”

“That would still be dangerous, maybe you should follow us inside,” Althea says, a forced smile on her lips. “I’ll ask your colleagues…”

“I’m not so far gone you need to baby-sit me, Althea Zoani,” Za Ruik says, sharp. “Do you believe I should stay in the Glass Tower, safe and useless, like your mentor? She didn’t come back from Kalester nearly as sane as she likes to believe, you know. Her paranoia makes her just as useless as I am.”

I’ve absolutely no idea what that means, but Althea stops, mouth agape, as if he had slapped her.

“You…” she asks, “knew my mentor?”

“There’s not so many of us left,” he says, his voice soft. “So many died to kill the Black Liar, back in Kalester. And even more died in Saevin, between the Exiled and the friendly nukes. Raiel and I never liked each other much. But I remember her well, and she probably remembers me better than she’s willing to admit.”

Althea looks like she’s going to ask for something more, but Za Ruik grimaces, annoyed.

“I’m here to talk about the future,” he says, “not the past. Talking about the past is dangerous. It’s easy to get stuck there. And sometimes, when I come back to the present, I get the wrong one. You wouldn’t believe how annoying that is.”

“What about our future, then?” I ask, eager to move on with the conversation. I hate confusing conversations, and with magic involved, it’s even worse. “Your previous warnings were… helpful. I should have thanked you.”

It’s Althea’s turn to look at me, confused. I guess we’ll need to have another talk.

“Don’t thank me,” Za Ruik says, “listen to me. That’s what matters.”

He looks at me, smiling, and silver creeps at the corners of my eyes. I don’t break eye contact. His power is creepy as fuck, but it’s useful, so I’ll make good use of whatever he shows me.

With a casual gesture, he throws a bunch of those pebbles up into the air. They fall slowly, as if through water, and where they land, the snow melts. I’m relieved, at least, that this time his divination doesn’t involve the horrific procession of shadows.

Za Ruik looks at the stones, lying on the bare concrete where they melted off the snow. The smile fades from his face, but he nods. Like someone who got bad news confirmed.

“You two should be careful,” he says. “There’s not much time. Something changed in the last few days. Our world-line is locked, and it goes straight through the storm. I tried to prevent that. I failed. I’m sorry.”

“The storm? What storm?” Althea asks, frustrated. “Not much time before what?”

I was hoping she’d be better than me at dealing with Za Ruik, but she looks just as confused as I am, and much less patient.

Za Ruik laughs, like she made a great joke. “That’s not how it works. The future ever branches and splits, and I can see the flows, or the nodes, but not both. The future burns, if you look at it too long. But I can tell you this – the storm is not just figurative. An Else-Storm is building in the depths. Sight-blinding, mind-tearing. You can feel its edges already. At its core is a terrible thing, a messenger made of silence.”

Frantic, through the confusion and haze of alcohol, I try to remember everything Quicksilver and Aeniki have told me. If Za Ruik can truly see the future, I can’t afford to waste this chance. Abyss, can’t we just schedule a meeting with the four of us?

“But it isn’t only an Else-storm, right?” I ask. “Something is happening – it’s already happening, I think. The hidden war – do you see it? What factions are in Rakavdon? How can we find them?”

He takes one more handful of chips and casts them. As they land, they move and flip, arranging themselves in a radial pattern, connected by silver lines. Looking at them gives me a headache.

“They’re already here,” he says. “They’re far too close – so close, and yet I can’t find them. The Faceless, the Black Library, the Vermillion Fortress – their fingerprints are all over this base already, we’re all tangled in their games. The Syndicates are coming, ready for war. The Faceless will fight them, with all their fury, and they’ll destroy everything in their path. The Lady White always watches, and her tendrils ensnare us all. They all want something, and it could be here in Rakavdon. Or so they believe.”

“They’re already here?” I ask, dismayed, “you mean, in our base? Who are their agents? Please, answer this, it matters more than anything else – who is working for the factions?”

He looks me in the eyes - he doesn’t look confused, nor distant, his silvery gaze is so intense I fight not to flinch.

“Are you sure you want to know?” he says, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to laugh. “I can’t simply see the answers. All of the Hidden Ones know how to screen themselves from my sight, in the present and the past. But sometimes they leave their fingerprints on the future. They’re close to you already. Secret friends, voices in the head - who do you talk with, Private Cerical? Be careful. They’re dangerous. They know the storm is building. Maybe that’s what they want.”

A jolt, like an electrical shock, runs through my spine. It’s so sudden and intense that, for a moment, I think Za Ruikused magic on me. But no, it’s just adrenaline, and my mind working at full speed through the haze. Voices, secret friends…does Za Ruik mean Quicksilver? Aeniki? Both? Is he implying they’re working for the factions? But the one thing I know about Quicksilver is that he’s part of Intelligence – wait, no, Za Ruik said maybe they want the storm, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re part of the factions.

“Have you told the Council about this?” I ask, because even in this situation, a part of my brain still prompts me to follow procedures.

Za Ruik scoffs. “The Council doesn’t care about my Sight, because divination of the future is unproven,” he says. “Anyway, don’t put too much hope in the Glass Tower. The Council is weakened and divided, eating itself from the inside. We were powerful, once. But very little was left, after Zelenia. So many of us died. Or came back wrong, like me.”

Creepy, vague magical warnings are too much to deal with, especially at two e in the morning. I throw my arms open in exasperation.

“No offense, but what can we do?” I ask, feeling lost. “What can the two of us, and our friends, do against the Faceless Army, or the Black Library, or the Vermillion Fortress? We… we must tell someone. Ask for backup.”

“Have you seen what we should do?” Althea asks, a tinge of anxiety in her voice. “If we’re in danger, and some kind of… storm is coming, how can we resist it?”

“Your girlfriend asks better questions than you, private Cerical. She’s a practical one,” Za Ruik says. “There’s no backup coming, or at least, no backup strong enough to matter. The enemies are close. Far too close, far too powerful. Even if Althea’s mentor was willing to sully her tunic by stepping Here, she wouldn’t be enough. We can’t fight these enemies head on, but we can… pick the best future. Or at least, the least bad one.

“A future where they’re all thwarted, where they fight each other to a standstill. I’ve Seen a chance. One last chance to let the storm blow over, harmless. A thief, a key, a Guardian – it all revolves around them. You must find them. Stop them. Kill them, or bring them to the Glass Tower.”

He smiles. “And if you fail, and the storm comes, we’ll do our best to endure it. Remember that you’re not alone. My friends are old, but we made the Faceless fear us, back in Zelenia. And I’m still a Master. I still mean to do my duty, and protect you all - one last time. And then I’ll go, finally.”

“Za Ruik!” A voice calls, worried. First Sergeant Revi - Team Gold’s commander, with a heavy snow coat hastily thrown on. She looks at the mage, and relaxes. “Lost stars, what are you doing? Come back inside, some of us still have flesh, you know, and we’re freezing.”

“It’s a nice night,” he says, looking at the broken moon. He sounds distant, as he often does, but I’m pretty sure he’s faking it, now. “And you should sleep. You get cranky when you stay up late.”

“Sorry, girls,” the woman says, looking at us. “I hope he didn’t creep you out too much. He didn’t start with the war stories, right?”

With her uniform, or armor, she looks like a proud soldier, if an aging one. Disheveled and in civvies she looks… just an old woman.

“We… only had a brief conversation,” I said, “there was no problem.”

“It’s you who always tell war stories,” Za Ruik says, his voice losing its sharp urgency. “You’re becoming one of those boring veterans, you know. In my days, kids, there was no maglev, every coach had wheels, and after every stop you had to go down and push to start the engine…”

“Oh, just come with me,” the woman says, rolling her eyes, but she looks strangely happy. Za Ruik sounds more coherent than most other times I’ve seen him, I realize, and there’s obvious affection in the woman’s warm expression.

The moment he leaves, the cold comes back, sharp and sudden. It’s worse than it was before, like being plunged in icy water – the heat wasn’t an illusion, I had really warmed up. Damn, even thinking this is a betrayal of my oaths, but having magical powers would be so convenient sometimes.

Althea and I walk straight back inside, without speaking. I don’t feel like looking for a private, hidden room anymore.

“Should we tell the others?” She asks, curt.

My instinct is to say no, you don’t just tell people sensitive information! But… if ignorance puts Kaelich and Sorivel in danger, can I live with it?

Emotional entanglements are the bane of Intelligence. We were warned.

Luckily for me, there are practical considerations to make it an easy choice.

“Not yet,” I say. “Let’s think about it for a while. If Za Ruik is correct, there are multiple magical factions spying on our base. Kaelich can’t keep xir mouth shut, and Sorivel tells xem everything.”

Althea nods, surprisingly easily. I didn’t think she’d be so willing to keep Za Ruik’s warnings a secret. It makes me wonder about what other secrets she might be hiding.

It’s late, I’m tipsy, and that way lies paranoia, so I shove the thought away and go to bed

I crawl into my bunk, and try without success to fall asleep. As I toss and turn, however, it’s not the thought of a mysterious storm that keeps me awake. It’s thinking about Althea, half-disincarnated and barely able to have a conversation, looking at the moon and trying to anchor herself to reality. Becoming distant as I grow old, and she doesn’t, and the Else calls her.

Lost Stars, am I really thinking twenty years into the future? We've been together for three hours. My longest relationship lasted five weeks.

Right now, we’re alive, she’s corporeal and healthy, and she probably has a better grip on sanity than my non-mage teammates.

It doesn’t make me feel better.