Nature has a power all to itself that encompasses every facet of life from beginning to end. And one of the worst parts about it is simply being spoiled for choices. As I ponder the answer to one of my problems and get nowhere, the solution to another problem sorta pelts me in the back of the head going, “I know! I know!” like the annoying girl in grade school who obviously has all the answers but just wants to be an ass about it. That’s my subconscious sometimes, an inconsistent dick, but a useful one nonetheless. While examining the sparrows and banging my head against a wall trying to figure out how to wrap their tiny minds around the concept of James Bond, one of the little dudes landed on my boot and proceeded to do just what birds do when they see a nice new target.
“Asshole,” I muttered, turning my magical senses towards the little miscreant with bowel issues. Turns out he had too many worms for breakfast and was taking it out on me. Worms, because it always starts with worms, great ideas I mean, because in the cycle of things, it ends with worms. And what are the undead but the literal last part of the cycle before being claimed by the worms? Humanity believes that death is the end, the severance of the pumping vitality of life, and undeath was never an option until magic reentered the fray. Following that line of logic, undeath is the optional final phase of death, a sort of hanger-on or last gasp before being claimed by the worms and dirt.
When means . . . . and cue the inner drumroll in my head . . . . finagling ways to kill or give the final rest to the undead is most likely in my wheelhouse, I just have to find it. Memories of me using sunflowers to store and emit real sunlight to repel nighttime invaders weren’t forgotten, and I had also used the symbolic herbs of purity such as sage and lemongrass when making my house, grasping at any kind of straw from humanity’s splintered lore to fight with a semblance of competence.
This would be so much easier if I had an actual undead, a zombie or skeleton or whatever the Hungry Ones actually are, to test on. Fire would probably work, all the stories say fire burns, duh, and sunlight probably isn’t their friend, but I don’t really have the unvarnished access to fire like I do to water and the rest of my sorceries. Also, getting into a consciousness fight with something that has experienced one side of death is probably not the smartest idea either. The two best ideas I could come up with, if I had to fight the undead in the next month or so, are complementary in style.
The first part would be to remake the sunflowers that harness and store sunlight and release it in the presence of undead things, and then combine that powered-up sunflower with a kind of scavenger thorny vine with earthworm tendencies. Which would leave me with a finished product of pure anti-zombieness, a UV radiation-emitting flower with thorny vines that would break down dead things that got tangled up in them. This would function as a perfect first and second and third line of defense as well as providing excellent fertilizer.
Solution number two would be to incorporate some of those concepts into my nature-based allies back home. Making a bunch of tiny crystal batteries with some UV conversion runes would be cake for me, and then I could embed them in the outer crust of the golem Everest or in spears or maces for the hamadryads. Spot obviously doesn’t need any enhancement against the undead, but there's a solid chance that I could get Kong and his horde of monkeys on board. Some sunlight emitting maces would be a huge hit for them and a damn useful buffer for me. To be clear, I don’t even know if that would work, which is why I shoved those ideas to the back of my mind as I kept glaring at that fucking sparrow who shit on my boot while trying to solve the issue at hand.
“Dude, you suck.” Shaking my boot to get the little douche off of me, I felt around on the mental connections that the sparrows had with each until I found the most dominant or intelligent one. It was hard to tell which is which in the mind of a bird, but this little dude was just sitting on a tree branch somewhat above me, staring as if I had all the breadcrumbs. Lifting a finger to make a perch, I whistled gently and nudged his mind. My other hand sifted around in the dirt until my earth sorcery kindly pushed up a small worm for me.
“Little worm for a little work, whatcha say?” I said, doing my best to mentally coax him down. A loud squawk from Tuki threw off my concentration. “Jeez dude, come on now.”
Hopping off the tree, Tuki landed in front of me and got real low and close to my face. A series of images streamed from his mind to my own, but to translate it into human terms, it went something like, “I’m a much better, way bigger and smarter bird than that one, SQWAAK! Want a roost in the Big Tree!” Dropping the worm, I pet Tuki on the beak, reassuring him. “Yeah man, you’re right.”
Unfurling his wings, Tuki jumped and flapped, catapulting his big body upwards. The windblast pressed me against the tree that I was already leaning against, but not hard enough for me to miss Tuki’s beak reaching out and snapping up the little sparrow, a flash of satisfaction coming through our temporary bond.
[Well that takes care of that.] I thought to myself as Tuki’s shape grew smaller in the distance. His mental tone almost sounded insulted, as if I were fostering off his duties, his agreed upon duties, onto a smaller and therefore less capable bird. Another thing to watch out for apparently, differing levels of innate intelligence amongst magically altered or evolved animals. If I didn’t take any action other than spying, I could reasonably expect peace and quiet for the next week waiting for the landbound allies to arrive. The diplomatic option could begin tomorrow morning depending on how fast Tuki did his thing. Deciding to put that off until I had more information, I set about getting my forward operating base ready.
Scuffing my boot into the dirt to get the bird crap off, I looked around at the nice little area I found myself in. It looked good from way up in the sky, but it would be almost a pointless outpost in the future other than a safe place to bed down. The mountain was huge but not really near anything in the way of resources, in fact, it almost looked like the grasslands part of the Serengeti in Africa. Long grass with a few sparsely placed trees and a truckload of nothing else were all one could see from down here. Digging up my inner optimist, I decided though that this was still not a bad place to be and also the perfect time to try something out that I’d always wanted to do, hollow out a mountain!
Now I’ve done some pretty cool shit since getting my sorcerous abilities, but my childish imagination was always captured by tales of hearty dwarves feasting in their humongous underground cities that sprawled under mountain ranges, dragons roosting in the heights of the peaks while thunderous waterfalls shrouded the valleys with their fog. Looking at the mountain in front of me, it’s safe to assume that I won’t realize my dream here, but I sure can practice. Stabbing Gungnir into the base of this mountain, I felt the pull of a ley line but not anywhere close to here, shit. Without the endless overabundance of mana provided by a generator or ley line, draining what I had to whimsically make an under-mountain fortress wasn’t smart. Back home had plenty of leylines to pull from, and the big generators only worked because they were huge and in sealed areas.
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This is why I hate traveling, it has none of the comforts of home. Suddenly a bit paranoid now that I’m not near an endless source of power to tap, I checked all of my equipment. The crystal batteries were pretty much full as well as Gungnir and Svalinn, but it felt small compared to the incredible excess that I was used to. The auto-feedback function I had built into my gear, the enchantment that siphoned off energy that I wasn’t using, was keeping everything in tip-top shape, but this kernel of insecurity I felt must be part of why wizards must be so skittish. They don’t have batteries full of power to draw upon, only their inner stores. This makes me sound like a rich kid who’s only complaint is that ‘the water I drink is too cold and it makes my teeth hurt’.
What I wouldn’t give to have Elon Musk’s intellect at this point. He’d probably magic some stuff up that would solve all my problems. Speaking of famous people, I wonder what they’re up to right now? Is J-Lo shakin’ her ass for the aliens now? What is Bill Gates doing now that money and Microsoft is completely obsolete? How hard did the soldiers of the various Earth armies react when the Centauri conscripted them against the Hive and their endless bugs? Would I have even made a difference in that war? And the Orion Conglomerate, Reeanth mentioned them but how much of humanity did they really get? What kind of impact, technological or otherwise could we even bring? Humanity is like the forgotten red-headed stepchild of father’s third marriage, nobody cares. Still, all the nerds must be having a good ol’ time right now, with magic and fantasy being real.
Putting aside my unproductive train of thought, I saw that my hand was playing with a bit of shiny quartz that reflected the sunset beautifully. Sunset, sunlight, solar power! That’s it! One of the issues with solar power before magic arrived is that it’s too diffuse, the energy content of sunlight was simply too spread out for humanity to use properly. We were also held back by the lack of efficiency in regards to batteries. Our lithium ion batteries were great, but compared to the energy output of natural coal and gas, disregarding nuclear because we hadn’t even researched it for a solid century yet, all of these could be solved by magic. My runed crystal batteries can store energy with almost a hundred percent efficiency, and I could make solar panels that could easily channel heat and light into conversion runes to make power. Even if I were in some place that literally had no mana, but had heat or light, I could use my own stores of energy and craft a device to feed me mana over time.
Using earth sorcery to conjure thing sheets of quartz, I used my fingers to trace out two quick runic equations. One side of the sheet attracted the ambient heat and light while the other side absorbed it and converted it into pure mana. On the conversion side of the quartz plate, I attached a small crystal battery and then covered up just the battery with a thin layer of platinum. Putting that out in the sun, I watched for twenty minutes as the quartz plate began to heat up and then stay a steady temperature as the absorption process evened out. Not giving myself time to celebrate, I quickly made four more and then set up the plates as if they were on a five-pointed star. In the middle, I conjured a stone circle the size of a dinner table and then coated it in with a thin layer of silver which I inscribed with runes of durability.
Taking time to cover my butt, I put in a control rune to shut off both the channeling function and the absorption/conversion functions as well. Conjuring gold wire, I connected the silver of the tabletop to the batteries under the solar panels to form five arms, and then connected each plate to the one next to it, threading the gold wire from battery to battery to form a golden pentagram. As the sun set, the usefulness of this makeshift artifact dropped to zero, but if all stayed well, I could test it tomorrow. Carefully, I conjured soft dirt to cover up my unwieldy project from prying eyes and turned the entire thing off. It wasn’t until the entire contraption went dark and cold that I sat back to relax against the mountain.
Some sparrows were still up in the tree, clearly already oblivious to the fate of their brother from earlier. I watched as they huddled together for warmth not two feet away from where Tuki had snapped the branch in a whimsical desire for a morsel of food. The animal kingdom moves on so fast, not even caring that their fates and rhythms are so in touch with the cycle of life and death. Calling Spot over from where he sat patiently, I leaned against his leg and fell asleep.
The morning came bright and early, my mind sorcery more than happy to function as a perfectly polite alarm clock. Memories of lying in a warm bed with my fiance fading as the daybreak continued its inexorable cycle. Tuki’s wing was draped over top of me, a very warm blanket as the rest of me was cushioned by sleeping Spot. Carefully wiggling free, I scurried off to pee on the morning dew and used water sorcery to have a quick rinse. Banishing the water after using it, I used flesh sorcery to work the kinks out of my joints and jumpstart my brain. That early morning brain fog is no longer a problem as magic seems to be the cure-all. Deciding to get on with my day, I curbed the first pangs of hunger and walked over to my solar panels and banished all of the dirt covering up the plates.
Tracing my hand on the center sigil of the main collector, I started up the plates and set them to a low setting, taking a step back so I could keep an eye on it. Tuki and Spot almost looked like a cute couple from here, albeit one of those mismatched ones. My dog was curled up on his side and the bird was clearly using him as a nest and a heat source. The nights out here were a lot colder than I thought they’d be but two giant warmblooded creatures easily kept the chill at bay.
From where they lay ten feet away from me, I almost didn’t want to disturb them. Both had done a lot of work, Spot with his attentive sentry duties and Tuki with his scouting, but the day waits for no one. Reaching out with my mind, I sent feelings of needing to pee to Spot. His back leg kicked out as if I tickled him. Trying a bit harder, I put a little bit more urgency into my sending, causing Spot to kick all of his legs, startling Tuki who woke and squawked and tumbled off to the side. With a yelp, Spot awoke and ran in a circle before running off to take care of business. After fulfilling the role of overgrown rooster, Tuki stood up and dusted himself off, watching Spot run off and then eyeing me as if he knew that I was the culprit.
“No sir, don’t look at me. Just a little earth sorcery makin’ himself a sand castle, that’s all you know.” And I was, just not really a castle though. Trying to keep the guilty expression off my face was hard, so I did something constructive instead. Using earth sorcery, I began to craft a miniature landscape of what I saw of the Centauri outpost in the dirt, complete with white marble mockups of the skeletons, the giant warehouse looking building and even some little dust soldiers down there too. As I leaned over my creation, Tuki hopped over and eyed my recreation of the Centauri camp. Leaning closer and closer, he very carefully put a big hole in the warehouse and squawked.
“Seriously? That was petty. The hell man?” Using earth sorcery again, I filled in the warehouse and started to add some details as Tuki reached over and this time smashed it down harder and squawked. Sitting on his feet, he lowered his neck, presenting his forehead to me, and then gently bumped me with it. “I’m guessing something changed huh?” I said, reaching out with my mind to connect to his. “Show me what’s up.”
The memory was almost unbelievable, not because the bird’s brain simply has different priorities overall, but because of the scale of difference in what we saw yesterday and what existed when Tuki went back to spy. The warehouse building was still there, but the skeletons of the giant reptiles were taken apart and placed on top of the building in a creepy formation. Rib bones were sticking up from the square roof, almost coming together to form a giant circle. Crackling energy ran up and down the bones as some humanoid robots were carving or welding runes into the calcium structure as others were repairing their obviously broken companions at the foot of the building.
“Shit, that looks like a humongous gate.”