Amara left Akamori to the hostile spell warrior reluctantly. She knew how little regard he had for arrogant people. This meant it was a near certainty he was going to piss them off and make his own life harder. He had a way of bringing out either the best or worst in people. Depending on which he wanted.
But what did she want? She still wasn’t sure how she fit into all this. She wanted to stop the Sauridius. She wanted to improve her own casting skills. To protect her friends. Save other worlds and spare them the fates Hoshun suffered. She wanted to become more than the slur she’d inherited here. Little Priestess.
Her face scrunched at the mere thought of the name. That’s all she was to these people. She sighed, a little too loudly. The Elder Weaver glanced down at her with a curious expression as they strode along a stone path.
“What troubles you, little priestess?”
“Lots of things,” she said dryly as she brushed a lock of black hair from her face.
The elder weaver seemed to puzzle on this for a moment before finally nodding. “I see. Then perhaps I could trouble you with a distraction. Why do you keep your eye closed?”
“Habit, I guess? My family was poor, even for Hoshun. Even before I was recruited to learn as a priestess, we didn’t have money for healing magic to restore the vision, or even a patch. We didn’t have the magitech to create a false eye on Hoshun, so rather than distract people with a blind eye, I just kept it shut. Sometimes I’ll wear a low hanging hood if I feel lazy.”
She shrugged with a guilty smile. When she turned to face him again she’d noticed he’d leaned closer to examine her eye with some kind of scrying monocle. He mused at his chin thoughtfully. She wilted under the intense attention.
“Hmm. Your loss of vision wasn’t natural. There’s a magical footprint within your eye. It’s small, clearly meant to be hidden. But there all the same. Someone intentionally blinded you in that eye.”
She bit her lip, wondering if her Maetrayops ability and the blindness were connected somehow. She debated on telling him, but wasn’t sure if that was something she should volunteer or not.
“It troubles you to learn this?”
“It does. Who could do such a thing?”
He pursed his lips, squinting at her through the lens. “It would take a powerful mage to have accomplished this. The complexity of this spell’s rune work is impressive. It’s not even something I could accomplish myself. And I’ve several centuries of study under my belt.”
The way he’d made the comment almost a self-congratulatory compliment made Amara’s skin crawl. She was seeing why Akamori disliked it here so much. Still, if he was to teach her, she couldn’t find a better teacher. She clasped her arms behind her as they walked, slowly taking in the surroundings. Having a narrower field of view made her commit more things to memory. Or maybe her memory was sharper to compensate for the lack of sight? Either way, she’d been making a mental map of their route from the ship in case the opportunity to flee arose and became necessary.
“Welcome to the Archons of the First Light Spell Weaver College.”
They found their way into the college of weavers, passing through a great hall of bookshelves that rose for stories. She’d seen just how far up they went, but cut herself short when she realized the weaver had continued without her. She jogged to catch back up him, weaving around various students reading at the shelves.
“This place is so vast!” she said, the wonder creeping out.
Hoshun had nowhere near this level of archival. Just a few dusty scrolls and tomes. They were mostly a warrior peoples, and she ill fit in there. But here? She was in her element. She spun with an eager grin. If this was going to be the focal point of her time here, then she could easily put up with the arrogance of the locals.
The elder weaver paused in an open arena outside his office and spun. “Now then, let’s have a good look at you. Ever living being’s soul has their magic inscribed upon it.” He wove a few hand signs and cast the spell. The monocle was now ringed by complex divination runes that slowly circled that glass lense. “Interesting. You possess Air, mind and water magic. As well as a few spells I can’t identify. Very interesting indeed.”
She shifted on her feet nervously. She should be more used to being the subject of someone’s attention as a priestess, but she’d spent most of her time sequestered away within the temple. She didn’t enjoy feeling this exposed. She also wasn’t sure what to make of Erlaut’s inability to scry her Maetrayops ability. That meant whomever it had come from was stronger than even he was. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable contemplating where that train of thought led.
“Now then, let’s see how much damage those clumsy soldiers have done. Draw whatever pathetic weapons they’ve supplied to you and let’s see what we’re working then, hmm?”
Amara’s brows knit in confusion as she slowly drew the rifle from her armor’s void storage. The small sheen of frost that accumulated on the armor’s skin melting as soon as it met the war air of their realm again. Erlaut gestured for her to strike. Though his gaze never changed. He was studying everything about her movements. Of that much, she was certain.
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She tried to snap the rifle to her shoulder, but Erlaut had already cast a light bolt that struck the weapon and her lead hand. She watched as it cartwheeled free of her grip and clattered to the floor outside the ring. She turned back to see Erlaut studying her.
“Ah, and so we’ve come to our first teachable moment. Never become too dependent on one weapon, spell, technique, or style. Your first attack resulted in being disarmed. Now what do you do?”
She spun, drew the sidearm from her holster, fell to a knee, then snapped off a mind bolt. Erlaut deftly wove a counter spell that crashed into it, causing a small mana shower of sparkling aether motes.
“Not bad. You counter attacked swiftly. But your enemy responded by negating your spell. Now what?”
That was a good question. Normally, they just shot everything that got in their way. Erlaut picked up on this hesitation. “I can see the Mage Federation Spell Soldier training falling short in your mind. You can’t simply shoot me or overwhelm me with greater fire. It’s just and me, so what will you do?”
She took a moment to size him as well. He was a capable caster, and likely held a deep well of spells. Her simplistic approach wouldn’t suffice without some way to level the odds. She banked on the chance she was better than he was at close quarters. She had spent time as a warrior priestess, after all. She dashed forward, her free hand whipped out in a knife handed chop aimed at his neck.
Erlaut counted with a clumsy block. She’d expected that. What hadn’t expected was the short dagger that materialized in his hand made of compressed light aether. The blade dragged against her armor; the sparks falling against her face on her blind side. That betrayed two quick facts. One, the move was fast. Rehearsed. Muscle memory. So he’d factored his weaknesses into his regimen. Second, the counter was so habitual he’d forgotten to account for the fact she was blind on that side of her face, so the sparks weren’t as distracting for her.
She shoulder checked him, knocking the air from him momentarily, then snapped her pistol up to fire off two quick air bolts. Erlaut channeled a portal spell and allowed himself to fall in. Her air bolts splashed harmlessly against the arena’s wards. Small ripples billowed out. Immediately she spun, weapon up and ready.
In front of her, two large portals opened up. From the left emerged Erlaut. He quickly cast a light bolt into the portal next to him. It slammed her in the back and sent sprawling to the floor in the same instant. She flicked a glance behind her and saw a smaller portal closing.
“You’ve a sharp mind. But your capabilities are limited. For now. In time, as you accrue more magic, you could become powerful enough to curry the favor of any house, of any nation or even world. After you complete my training, that is.”
Erlaut held out his hand. She reached up hesitantly and accepted the help up. He looked at her armor disapprovingly. “In time, I trust we’ll build your confidence enough you can dispense with that moldy armor.”
Amara shrugged doubtfully. “Not likely. It affords several advantages. Being able to fly and free channel magic is handy. That would all cost me AP otherwise, and having the correct magic and spell knowledge.”
Her utilitarian approach impressed him enough to warrant a begrudging nod of approval. “Very well.” He said finally. He wove several mind runes to create an illusory scroll and scribbled a quick message on it, then rolled it up. Once the scroll was bound, it burst into a ball of aether and flew off into the nearest wall. A few moments later, a timid female primal entered the arena hall, her eyes glued to the floor.
“You sent for me, master Erlaut?”
“Yes, Luffa, meet Amara. She is to be your new dorm mate. Get her settled in and see to it. She gets her studies underway.”
Without dismissing them, he spun on his heel and marched off into the depths of the college. The young women left to themselves just glanced around awkwardly for a moment. Once Erlaut was out of earshot, Luffa straightened a little more and actually brought her eyes up to meet Amara’s gaze. “Well. Come along then. Wouldn’t want Erlaut to throw a fit and get that prissy robe of his messed up.”
Amara choked out a laugh as she fell in at Luffa’s side. The woman had a strong build to her, which was an odd thing to see in a weaver. Normally, spell warriors sported the bulky forms. She got the sense that Luffa’s strength didn’t stop at physical alone, though. Along with well-toned muscles, Luffa had jet black hair like Sala, and green eyes instead of blue. Her fur was darker red, almost rust colored. She wore a gold collar that glowed with a series of runes. It was beautiful and looked more like jewelry.
“I’m a war slave. If that’s what you’re wondering.” Luffa said coldly.
“Are all your people’s war slaves?” Amara asked.
“Mostly, yes. The Aerynian’s found that my people were strong, physically, and capable casters. That makes us a favorite among the noble houses. Now that you’re here, he should fixate on you, until you’re gone at least.”
“Why?”
“They generally consider primals difficult to train by the nobles, so they send them to the war colleges to be broken. You’ll be in this dorm with me.” She gestured into an open doorway and Amara found a royal blue uniform that looked close to the Federation, but had a fuzzy spot for a patch to affix to. She frowned with a soft chuckle. “Back to being a fuzzy again.”
“A fuzzy?” Luffa asked, her dark rusty brows knitting together in confusion.
Amara shook her head, sitting down and tracing a gauntlet over the uniform intended for her. “It’s a soldier thing, I guess. I thought I’d worked my way up a little. But now I’m back at the basics again.” She sighed, then noticed that Luffa had a peculiar patch.
“What’s that symbol mean?”
“I’m a war slave. This is that all the Aerynian’s know me for what I am. Even were I to cast a morph spell, the patch is warded. They would know no matter what. Worse. If we misbehave or try to flee, they hit us with these.” She gestured to the necklace. “It’s a special collar that binds to the wearer’s soul. Who ever holds the control wand has control over the collar.”
“And Erlaut has yours, I’m guessing?”
Luffa nodded with a scowl. “They’ve ground our people under heel so well most just long for a good death anymore. All too happy to find it in battle.”
“And you?”
Luffa shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know what I want. But I know it isn’t this much, at least.”
Amara nodded, feeling very much like her and Luffa could become good friends. Arching a brow curiously, she glanced up with a playful smile. “Do you like to read?”
Luffa’s lips quirked into a weary grin. “Yes?”
“Show me this library, then. All of it.”