“You’re certain this is the way you wish to go about this?” Calisto asked, “I can’t say I really thought your plan would work, but given how few of us knew, it’s possible it could have. If you reveal your powers now…Well, most won’t take it as well as we have. There will be no escaping the mage-hunters if we make it home. Delvers are not tight-lipped people at the best of times.”
Talia wore a little gouge into the stone table with a metal finger, wracking her brain for some other solution, and coming up blank. It was time. Anything less than their all would get them killed, and hiding her nature was getting in the way.
Returning to Karzgorad was a problem for the future, but Talia already had the beginnings of a plan to deal with loose lips and more besides.
“We could rely on handsign, but like you said, it’s a poor alternative to clickers. Besides, if they know, I no longer have to hold back or obscure the use of my magic. I’ll be free to become our heavy hitter, for as long as my mana lasts,” Talia reasoned, “I may not be as powerful as Zaric was, but I’m getting there, faster than Osra ever will, even. Besides, it’s not like the sharp ones among them aren’t already suspicious. Some of them have to be wondering how we knew about the depths stalkers, for example.”
Calisto steepled her hands, favouring Talia with a sharp, assessing gaze. The weary mania in the delvemaster’s eyes had faded as they discussed their plan, but Talia thought she saw it lingering behind those calculating blue orbs. Finally, the chronicler sighed.
“I supposed it will explain your…appearance to Kaina and Silversweep, at the very least,” Calisto relented, “You will have to prove yourself, I hope you realize. And even then, some may outright refuse to work with you. Some might want you dead, consequences be damned.”
Talia thought back to when the returning scouts had burst in with their findings, blurting out the news about the Aberrant before falling silent. Kaina especially, had seemed shaken, staring at Talia’s face as if she were a demon from Ishmael’s supposed hells, come to life. Silversweep…well, Silversweep was Silversweep. A look of nervous fear had flickered across the beastkin’s serpentine features, only to morph into a knowing, fanged grin. Somehow, that was more unsettling than the ganger’s naked terror.
Talia had hastily wiped the bloody streaks from her face, gazing blandly at the newcomers.
No one had mentioned the incident, but the tension had lingered the entire time the pair were giving their report.
Speaking of…
“I will bear that in mind, but I hope we agree that the mission comes first,” Talia said quietly, resolutely.
The implied threat left Calisto unfazed, or if it didn’t, the delvemaster hid it well.
“Agreed. But it won’t come to that. You have your duties, and I have mine.”
Talia nodded, running flesh and blood fingers across adamite-covered knuckles.
“And the Aberrant?” she asked, changing the subject.
The shelter groaned, right on cue, the giant beast’s assault powerful enough to be mistaken for a quake.
“Avoid, avoid, avoid,” Calisto said, “We barely survived a fight with them before —we have no chance against them now. For now, the wyrm remains a blessing in disguise. Let the monstrosity continue its fight for the fungal forest, while we slip past it and the urvai both and into the ancientways.”
According to the returned scouts, the urvai and the gargantuan Aberrant were battling for control of a large swathe of parc-turned-mushroom forest. Contrary to the tangled snarl of desiccated drearwoood on the plateau below, the fungal flesh would provide either enemy with a swathe of lush biological matter to devour. But from what Kaina had said, they were currently locked in a stalemate. For now, as Calisto said, the fight was a stroke of luck. Talia only worried about what happened when the winner was declared.
“And if one wins out over the other?” Talia asked.
Calisto scowled, dragging her nails across her scalp.
“Then we pray it is the urvai swarm. They, at least, can be outrun or even fought off, with enough cunning and tenacity. An elder karztwyrm is a city killer on a good day. It’s in the damn name. Without a Legion company in support, and with the Aberrant corrupting it…We would be nothing more than an afterthought. Less. Like ants to a steel boot.”
Hope has done nothing but fail us so far. Better to be prepared. The Aberrant did seem particularly vulnerable to electricity...
Talia added the thought to the ever-growing list of things to think about. Calisto may treat such things as akin to a quake —unstoppable, unpredictable, unkillable— but the fight with the magmamander had shown that felling the hulking leviathans of the Deep was only a matter of planning and preparation.
Not that she isn’t right. Better to avoid fighting the thing if we can. Who knows how many more Aberrant are lurking in the shadows?
THOOOMMM
CRASHH
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The pair braced against the table as another tremor hit.
Calisto shivered, fists tightening to bloodless claws.
Yes, definitely better to avoid picking a fight with something that can cause the very world to tremble.
Talia stood with a shake of her head, brushing dust off her armour.
“If that’s all?” she asked.
The delvemaster shifted in her seat, closing her logbook and setting her pen atop the cover; legs crossed and hands folded in her lap.
“We haven’t spoken about the…compulsion you are under. Nor about this ‘library’ you have gained possession of,” Calisto ventured.
There was a hunger that lurked within the chronicler’s thoughts, cracking through her icy façade.
Ah, there it is. Even after all we’ve been through, the ravenous need shines through.
Talia shrugged.
“I’ll work on the compulsion tonight, while the others rest. It’ll take some work, for…reasons, but I’m not worried. If the Matriarch is out to kill or maim me, she has no reason to do it in such a roundabout manner. You didn’t…you didn’t feel her power. If you had, you would know what I mean.”
Calisto raised a brow but nodded her acceptance.
“And this ‘library’?” she inquired.
Talia flashed a toothy grin.
“I’ll be happy to share once we return home like we agreed a month ago.”
Calisto nodded slowly.
“I will hold you to that,” she swore.
Talia’s grin only grew wider.
“Of course, now if I can be dismissed? We have a long day ahead of us, and there’s still much to think about.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” Calisto hazarded leadingly, “I’m told—I’ve been told that I’m a good listener when given the chance.”
That settles it. Lazarus definitely told her. So much for keeping my secrets to himself.
The break in trust might have bothered her once, but now it was just another data point to slot away for future consideration. As it was, discussing Talia’s exercise in mental self-modification was pointless. She wouldn’t be undoing the spell any time soon, perhaps ever. The benefits were too great. Not to mention she had no clue what the downsides of dispelling it would be.
“Not that I can think of,” Talia half-lied.
I don’t have anything I want to discuss, even if that wasn’t really your question.
Calisto pursed her lips.
“Nothing you think I should know?”
Talia cocked her head, considering how she might convey her disinterest.
“I adopted a cat,” she finally admitted.
Watching the confusion leak across the delvemaster’s face was the most amusing thing Talia had experienced all week. The bafflement was so out of place on the stoic chronicler’s face. She almost looked like a different person.
“A…cat?” Calisto repeated, numbly.
“A mirage-lynx cub,” Talia corrected, “If you want to be technical. But don’t worry, Menace is harmless. One of the perks of my particular brand of power.”
“I…see. I—I suppose that’s fine—?”
Talia nodded rapidly, entirely too pleased by the other woman’s reaction.
“Good, Zaric knew before— well, you know, so I figured it was, but I thought I should make sure.”
Calisto frowned, scratching the side of her head.
“And you named it… Menace was it? Why would you— You know what, it isn’t important.”
Talia shrugged.
“That mean I’m dismissed?”
For a moment, Calisto looked like she might say something else, but whatever it was, the chronicler bit her tongue at the last second, shaking her head and dismissing Talia with a wave.
“Fine, get some rest. We can speak in the morning—oh, and Talia?”
“Hmm?”
“You may want to add a muffling enchantment to the other door. We won’t all fit into this tiny office, and I imagine some of our compatriots might…forget about noise discipline.”
Talia’s grin faded somewhat, but she jerked a nod, stepping through the doorway.
----------------------------------------
Shit.
Talia sat cross-legged a metre inside the entrance to the shelter, deep in concentration. Behind her, scattered against the walls and lying with their heads on their packs, the company slept fitfully. Talia had forgone such luxury for the moment, focusing on a few final tasks. The doorless, stone frame had taken her a good hour to inscribe with dwarvish silencing runes. Her second task before she went to sleep was not going so well.
Not because she imagined the Matriarch’s compulsion spell to be so much more complex than the one atop Calisto’s thoughts —though Talia supposed it could have been. Complex or not, the psion didn’t know.
The crystal mind spell was once again revealing its drawbacks.
Try as hard as she might, Talia had no access to her own mindscape. And thus no means of erasing the crescian spell’s influence on her thoughts. The realization was somewhat…vexing. If that was even the right word. A small part of her thought she should just dispel crystal mind, purge the spider’s influence, recast the clarity spell and then get on with it.
The rest of her physically shook when she even considered the idea. Cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck, and her missing arm ached. Fingers trembled. Her throat dried up.
That. That is more concerning than any outside compulsion.
It should have been enough to cut the flow of mana to the spell in an instant. Should have.
Instead, she looked for a workaround, silencing the subconscious part of her that screamed to shut the spell off.
Closing her eyes, Talia jumped into the Fragment of the Weave. The space was liminal, closer to a second mind psionically grafted onto her than any real part of her being. But connection was connection, and if she couldn’t access her mindscape directly, maybe she could circumvent the direct dive into her own consciousness.
Pushing aside a tangle of threads, Talia looked to the dark void of thought.
Somewhere on the other side of this is my mind. I just have to reach out to it.
Closing her eyes a second time, Talia pictured the colours and amorphous shapes of her mindscape, extending a psionic tendril into the abyss between minds.
For what felt like an eternity, all Talia felt was nothingness. Smothering. Oppressive. Blank. Nothingness. Her mind strained as if she was extending her senses across an unfathomable distance. Her head throbbed with a migraine.
Then, from nothingness, light.
Her mindscape from outside sat blurry and pulsing amid the black. Yet, for all that she pushed, entering it only brought more pain.
I’m stuck. Stuck on the outside of my own thoughts. How does that even happen? I’m me. This is me.
Isn’t it?
She pushed one final time before hastily breaking away. Something instinctive told her that pushing any further would have consequences.
Can I just— do what I did with Calisto?
Reorienting her perspective, Talia focused on the memory of sharing her knowledge with Calisto, watching carefully to see if she could spot the golden threads of crescian compulsion. Then she stuttered to a stop.
Oh. Is that…?
Angry purple snarls ripped their way through the pulsating multi-hued patterns of thought, steel cables to the rest of her mind’s delicate twine. Like a bloated tick sitting atop her brain.
The crystal mind spell.
The shiver Talia felt penetrated all the way into the void she lurked in.
Hesitantly, without thinking, she reached out to pluck at one of the thick purple cords.
Pop!
She was out before she could even register the sound.