The farther they went, the more difficult it became to keep track of their current location, but Alicia’s map was just detailed enough to list down major landmarks, and by using those, they managed their way to where Cyg last was.
It began as a faint blue glow lingering in the air that grew stronger as they continued. This time, Cyg could see that the light had crept into their surroundings in odd splotches like water seeping into paper. There was no voice this time, only the usual faint chirping of birds and a whisper of the wind, and soon after their search began, the basilisk lifted its head up as if pointing.
Perched on a branch was a sparrow, cautiously eyeing the thing sitting opposite to it next to the trunk. It was as long as a hand’s width and a half and held the shape of a fat slug with butterfly wings; its body had a layer of translucent, iridescent skin, holding its innards which can only be described as cosmic soup.
Cyg and Alicia were silent as the bird took one small hop forward. It turned its head, wondering with an inquisitive stare what it was dealing with. Then, without warning, the branch underneath dissolved into blue and fell, gravity pulling them both down. The former flapped its wings and took flight in a panic, while the latter struck the ground and vanished as if dust.
Out came a noise that held the cadence of a laugh, stopping abruptly when the faerie looked down to see its audience. Alicia slid off just in case Bassy decided to pounce at it, but for now, all three made no sudden movements. Though, the basilisk was likely sitting back for the sake of sating the other two’s curiosity.
“Err...” Cyg started, “Hello?” He wondered if it could understand his words, and the fantastical creature replied by flittering down in front of him. It then followed with a few circles around him for a swift examination, and then it did the same with Alicia, eventually settling on the elf’s head after.
“This is a strange feeling,” she said with an anxious laugh, “And, uh, I think that was transmutation magic.”
“It turned wood into whatever that was. Living wood too!” Cyg exclaimed with a hiss.
If mages had to rank what kinds of magic they found to be most impressive, conjuration would be at the top for the vast majority. It was, after all, shaping the world to your will, not to mention receiving such a gift was a one-in-a-million chance. Even its runic equivalent requires an exorbitant amount of mana to create anything more complex than base elements. Shifting matter from one kind to another was only a single step down, and not a single transmutation mage who lived was allowed to roam free outside of the royal court.
“I wonder,” Alicia began, trying not to move and scare off the faerie, “Why would Merry need it? What would she even use it for?”
“You should ask her this time around,” Cyg replied, “Better chance of her answering you than me.” Then, he wondered out loud, “I wonder if we can get it to transmute us some mythril.”
And she let out a harsh sigh, “That would be too fortunate so it can’t possibly happen.” As if in response, the faerie flapped its wings again, this time drawing circles around Bassy, who lazily moved away its head when the thing got a little too close for comfort.
The thief said, “I wouldn’t hold my breath for that slim of a chance, true, but do you think we can convince it to make something other than... whatever this is?” He scanned around once more before asking, “Do you think Merry would know what—”
He turned to see the faerie right before him, his sight adjusting after a second, right in time to see it lift a ball of blue with two malformed arms—and then it blew.
Washing over his face, the light went into his nose and eyes and mouth and ears, causing him to stumble and fall onto his back. While he coughed and tried to wipe it off, Alicia hurried over and Bassy leapt forward. The faerie tried to fly away, but the basilisk immediately caught the thing in her jaws and stilled it permanently with a violent shake.
Meanwhile, the apprentice crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked, ready to use magic to get it off him when she saw that it was mostly all gone already. What little remained was infused with his own mana, resulting in a swirling mixture that could not be separated. “We should get you to Merry, quickly!”
“It got in my eyes!” he said, blinking and rubbing. Wherever he looked, there was a haze. A terrible brightness stung his head, and he felt off, but he could not place his finger on what or how. Cyg tried to stand up on his own but ended up in a tangle, his arms and legs strangely not where he thought them to be.
Bassy sat down in front of the thief, and with the apprentice’s help, Cyg was able to straddle atop the basilisk.
“Does it hurt anywhere?” Alicia asked.
“No, it just...” he said, trailing off as he struggled to find the right words, “Something doesn’t feel right.”
Alicia then climbed on behind him and said, “C’mon Bassy, let’s get him back.”
And the basilisk got up and galloped off, Cyg gripping on tightly as he felt something crash over him repeatedly, as if he were in a tiny boat in the midst of a storm. It continued all the way to the house and only barely eased when he collapsed in the study on a chair. He squinted his eyes, finding the firelight far more bearable than the sun. There, in a daze, he sat and waited as Merry listened to Alicia recount what had happened as she tossed the faerie into the cold storage.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
When the explanation was over, the witch arrived in front of Cyg with a wry smile, and despite all that was going on with him, the thief was still able to make out her expression.
“If you’re making that kind of face, I’m assuming I’m completely fine,” he said.
“I suppose,” Merry replied, taking the chair next to his. “You have just imbibed what some circles call the ‘mage’s seasoning’, or the ‘wind of understanding’, or...”
“Outer Salt,” he finished, “That’s what this is!? It’s... kind of a letdown.”
“Oh, you’ve heard of it before?” she said with a hearty laugh, “Were you expecting some transcendental out-of-body experience?”
“Given the way I heard people talk about it, yeah.”
Awkwardly raising a hand, Alicia asked, “Um, what is Outer Salt? Judging by the name, I’m assuming it’s from the Outer Sea.”
Merry leaned on a desk. “And you would be correct. It’s a rare byproduct of the Sea flowing inward without any kind of vessel, an exquisite product whose routes only feature noble houses and the occasional court mage. Impossible for commoners to afford, and useless too—they’re only effective for those already tuned to the Sea and want to feel it even better,” she explained, “The question is, why would Cyg know about it?”
He answered, “I get around,” as if that was enough to explain it.
Meanwhile, Alicia continued, “So, he’ll be fine?”
“Given his Aspect...” Merry said, “Cyg will be back to normal within the day. Just a little sensitive, that’s all.”
“Hey, wait a moment,” Cyg then said, “Does that even count as transmutation?”
She made a face while thinking about it. “Quite frankly, I wouldn’t know how else it’d be classified.”
Alicia added, “We could just not classify it at all.”
“Oh, what’s the fun in that?” the witch replied as she stood up, and before she left, she added, “By the way, Cyg, don’t mess with anything in the study or kitchen today. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“Got it,” he mumbled, slouching in his chair.
Another wave of mana crashed over him, but he was starting to worry far less. No matter how high and turbulent the waters get, his metaphorical boat never seems to capsize. He might even dare to say it was starting to get entertaining.
More or less incapacitated, Cyg retired early that day to his room, and when he slid under his covers, he expected to have the whole thing resolved by the time he woke up. It took him hours to fall asleep as being assailed by the Sea wasn’t the least bit calming, but he learned that if he focused, he could lull his own mana. If he tried even harder, that stillness radiated outward, becoming a form of meditation.
He woke up frequently thanks to a particularly large current crashing into him every now and then. The night became torturous, and he crawled out of bed far later than usual, Alicia having not woken him up this time. And, to his dismay, the effects of the Salt had not relented.
“What in the Gods is this?” he complained in the living room. “I thought you said it’d be over by now.” If there was one bit of relief, it was that the clouded skies made keeping his eyes open much more bearable.
Merry placed a cup of water on the table and sat across from him. “It should have. If it normally lasted that long, it wouldn’t be as rare and expensive as it is, would it?” she posed, “Though, it is strange. I don’t recall hearing any stories of spatial Aspects acting up this way.”
“So... I have some incredible, special magic?”
The witch considered it for a moment. “Unlikely.”
With nothing better to do, he shambled over to the study where Alicia was writing furiously in her notebook. They were designs, he found when he peered over.
Alicia asked without looking up, “Care to try making some runes of your own?” From a desk drawer, she retrieved and tossed over an engraving pen.
“Oh, it’s this thing,” Cyg muttered, “Should I be using this? What if I burn the house down?”
“Can’t be that bad,” she answered, “I’m right here to put out any fires. You can draw on some of the scrap wood or paper we have lying around.”
Absentmindedly following through, he attempted to recreate a lantern fire strip from memory, messing up a few times along the way and requiring Alicia to reset the block of wood with her magic. Eventually he managed, and the apprentice awarded his efforts with a very quiet applause before going back to her work.
He rubbed his eyes and stared at her working without a thought in his head. After a few minutes, Alicia looked back and mouthed the words, “She’s using the faerie for testing. Medicine?” Cyg, who could not read lips, responded with a shake of his head before taking a pencil to the back of the wood block.
“I wanted to talk to you about our plans,” he wrote.
She eyed it with a raised brow before erasing it with her magic and writing back, “We can do that tomorrow.”
“But the elephant in the room. The basilisk in the... forest?”
“What?”
“Need to trap it,” Cyg answered with his scribbles, “Must be hiding in a cave today.”
Alicia squeezed her pencil tightly. “Won’t work. How will we get the blood back? Merry’s also here.”
“I can distract. You can go around.”
There were too many problems. For one, Alicia hardly knew anything about basilisk anatomy, meaning she would be operating blindly. Not to mention— “Too far. I can’t make it.” The walk from the cave to the house would be impossible for Alicia considering how much she had to haul over in the rain. “Takes too long.”
“Time’s not an issue. Healing magic to disable Bassy?” Cyg reasoned that completely immobilizing it shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, it seemed to have a spine to sever.
She scowled. “No.” The thief shook his head in confusion, and she added, “We have to kill Bassy in the final loop to escape, right?” He nodded. “Then it’s pointless. Besides, we would be no better than Merry.”
Meaning leaving Bassy suffering and slowly dying for that long was unacceptable. If they were to kill her, they would have to do it fast.
“What did you mean by last loop?” he silently asked.
“No reset = permanent,” she answered, implying only the last one mattered.
Cyg wanted to toss out the consideration that he could still be right. The dead loops could still exist, different timelines running on their own, but he figured it wasn’t worth arguing now. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
She placed her hand on her notebook and slid it in front of Cyg, revealing the schematics for a bomb of some sort—it had a flat base, and a dozen or so nail-shaped metal spikes were piled on top, all facing the same way and hollow to boot.
“Poison,” she wrote.