Adzorg wove the threads of magic as if he were a loom. The method had nothing in common with anything Dallion had seen or even read about. The man’s left hand moved up and down, aligning the threads while his right moved sideways, creating over a dozen symbols per row. The fascinating part was that while the movement speed of his fingers was five times slower than what Dallion could achieve, the symbols on each line were completed twice as fast.
“Keeping up?” the mage asked.
Twenty instances were carefully observing what was going on and still it was impossible to memorize it. Mage magic remained in a league of its own.
Meanwhile, more chinks of the vortex’s terrain rose up into the air. There it broke up into entities, reinforcing the attackers. These weren’t the weak humanoids, either. All of them were solid, fully formed beings of magic, very close to the bladerers Dallion had faced in the past. They were missing swords and armor, but made up for it with their spellcraft abilities.
“They’re getting closer,” Dallion said, unleashing a series of line attacks.
“Don’t cast any spells, dear boy,” the mage said in his usual calm tone. “Shield, kindly cocoon Di, if you will.”
“What do you—” The fury began, but before she could finish, the shield enveloped her and Ruby in a ball of metal. The loss of air currents caused it to fall a bit, but with one quick action, the mage cast a levitation spell, without interrupting the weaving process.
“This is it,” Adzorg said. “Better brace yourself, dear boy.”
With one final action, the mage merged the threads of symbols together, forming one solid cluster with the shape and dimensions of a walking rod. The feat was impressive by itself, but that was just the beginning. Energy flickered within the rod. Dallion could see symbols flash within, then merge together, creating entirely new combinations. This was no longer drawing schematics; it was closer to watching a chemical reaction: spells creating spells creating spells.
After precisely five seconds, Adzorg tossed the rod up in the air. No sooner had he done so, than the item doubled in size as if something from within had forced it to expand. Flickers of bright purple ran through its surface. Three seconds later, it doubled in size again.
“What the heck is that?!” Dallion asked.
“That is a sign to come close,” Adzorg flew to the armadil sphere. “Quickly.”
Dallion obeyed, having half of his instances join the former archmage. To his surprise, Harp didn’t seem opposed in a single case.
Harp, can you copy that spell? He asked as the rod continued to double in size.
I’m not a mage, she replied. But I can make him tell you.
The rod was now the size of a small tower. For a moment, Dallion thought that the goal was to have it pierce through the vortex, allowing them to escape. That didn’t happen. Instead, it burst, shooting out millions of threads. Like needles on the end of a line they flew in all directions, piercing any other source of magic in the vicinity. The aether beings that had almost reached the group were first, freezing in space as if they had been struck by music; the ones behind them followed, then the ones behind them. Within seconds, everything in sight was pierced by the threads, but the spell was just getting started. Threads hit the terrain below, ending its constant transformation as well as the chunks levitating towards the sky. Only two things weren’t affected: the black hole pearls Dallion had cast and anything in his vicinity.
“I call it a static aether web,” Adzorg said with an indignant expression. “Not the best name, but I don’t use it very often.”
“The spell?” Dallion asked.
“The name. I used the spell plenty of times during my research. You have no idea how many attempts were required to perfect it. Originally, I had hoped I could use it to change the appearance of a realm. I actually got in trouble with the Moons with that. Galatea himself visited me during one session and told me not to mess with things I don’t understand.”
“Let me guess.” Dallion looked the mage straight in the eyes. “You decided a few years ago to understand what you were doing.”
“He’s the Moon of magic. He knows the loopholes of reality better than anyone else. If he wanted to tell me to stop, he’d have done so and I would have stopped. That’s how I discovered the effect my spell has on vortexes.”
Good thing you’re the only one who knows it, Dallion thought. Was that the case, though? With all the vortexes expected, what if the battle mages had also acquired some of that knowledge? After all, some of them had served under Adzorg. Even worse, what if that knowledge was part of their deal?
“As much as I’d love to explain how I managed to create that little marvel, I think it would be a good idea if we left. Calm and adaptation, remember?”
“Right.” Dallion looked around. “And I have to keep close, right?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“The spell won’t harm its caster.” The old man turned his head in the direction of the mountain. “I suggest heading towards the middle. The foot of the mountain is always a lot more difficult.”
“How many times have you done this before?”
“Vortex absorption? Dear boy, one doesn’t become an archmage on brains alone.”
The threads moved away as Dallion got near. For several minutes, they floated through a jungle of purple and stillness until they reached a part of the terrain that changed form again. Finding himself no longer in danger, the mage moved further away.
“You can open up, shield,” Dallion said.
The metal sphere did so, returning to its normal form, releasing the fury inside. One would expect her to be furious. Oddly enough, she wasn’t. Floating away, she looked at Dallion, then at the jungle of threads behind him.
“That was the spell?” she asked.
Dallion nodded.
“Think I can learn it?”
“It’s not something you should use in the real world,” Dallion said. “It’s not something I should use either.”
“I shouldn’t have become awakened either,” the girl countered. “But I get your point. Something like that could destroy cities.”
More than cities, Dallion thought. It was almost something the Star would use. His focus shifted to Adzorg. So far, it seemed that only otherworlders could become a Star, but was that a definite rule? The old mage was definitely part of that world, but he had made attempts to cross into another. For the length of time during which the device had worked, one could even say he had left the awakening world. Could that mean that he qualified for the role? He had undoubtedly suffered a lot: he had lost his position, become banished, limited by the Order… even in the Icepicker guild he had remained a mere captain—the same position as one of the imperial guards of his facility. It would be understandable if he had obsessed over creating the device to gain what he lacked.
Harp, if it comes down to it, you can take him, right? Dallion thought.
Yes, the harpsisword guardian replied. As long as he’s near.
“I suggest we hurry up a bit.” Adzorg looked over his shoulder. “The spell might be impressive, but the vortex is already devising ways to adjust to it. We won’t be able to use it again.”
“But you have a few other spells up your sleeve, don’t you?” Dallion frowned.
“You might say that. Most likely it won’t come to that. From here on, the attacks will become more focused. You have shown yourself to be a danger to the vortex. Now it’s all a matter of determining whether you’re worse than the voidlings. Once we breach the mountain, it’ll be all you, I fear.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, just more challenging. Whatever the vortex sends your way won’t have the courtesy to wait till I complete a spell.”
The journey took longer than expected. Distance within the vortex was a flexible term. Hours would pass with the mountain remaining the exact same size, then without warning, it would grow twice, appearing all the closer. Adzorg explained that had to do with the realm itself being curved. Since neither Dallion nor Diroh had a high enough magic trait to perceive it, from their perspective, they were flying forward, while in real terms, they had been taking giant left and right turns, like following a winding path. To make matters more cumbersome, every now and again, the ground beneath them would erupt like a mini volcano in an attempt to take them out of the sky. Dallion’s combat splitting prevented that from occurring, but there was no denying that the vortex’s aim was getting better and better.
“What will happen to the city?” Dallion asked as it appeared that the mountain had gotten within reach.
“That’s a complicated question,” Adzorg sighed. “The simple answer is nothing good. There’s no fixing the damage, just delaying it. Provided you manage to absorb the vortex, the city itself might remain intact. The inhabitants, though, that’s a different story.”
“What about the holes in the levels? Won’t those be there?”
“They will, but later. What we experienced is the gleam. Other than us, and anyone foolish enough to have entered the vortex, no one will be harmed in any way. They’d be terrified, of course. Some of them might have nightmares for a while, but that’s all. However, that will change when the real thing occurs. Then, the destruction will take effect. A large part of the city will be punctured and most things will have their magic absorbed, dwarves included.”
“Even if we absorb the vortex?”
“Even then. The intensity of the effect will be a lot smaller, but it’ll still happen. Remember, dear boy, that a gleam is an echo preceding an actual event. Going in early, we can modify things, but the event will still occur. Same for going in late. Keep in mind, the ripples go both ways as far as time is concerned.”
It seemed there was no way around it. A large part of the dwarf capital would be destroyed during a major war between three world powers. And all of that because of Adzorg. Following that logic, did that mean that Dallion would escape the vortex? For the old mage to start the device, creating the vortex as a result, he had to have survived the gleam. Then again, for that logic to work, only Adzorg needed to survive. Diroh and Dallion were fair game.
“Since we’re asking questions, I have one as well, dear boy.”
“That would be a first,” Diroh muttered beneath her breath.
“How did you find me?”
“I got a little help,” Dallion replied.
“I’m not talking about the city. How did you find me in the crowd? You weren’t supposed to see me.”
“Being the single human among dwarves stands out.”
“Indeed, it does. Which is precisely why I’d never resort to that. As far as everyone was concerned, I was a dwarf from another kingdom. Yet you seem to have seen me in my true form. I’m curious how.”
“As I said, I had a little help.”
“It takes more than a little help to see through such illusions. I made certain.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Lucky, I guess.” Dallion tried to laugh it off, but deep inside he had a few concerns as well. Too many things were too perfect. His arrival to the city, finding Adzorg just as he was bargaining for the statue containing the final piece, being able to see him… even Diroh arriving at the scene. Something else was in play, and he had no idea who the players were.
In the distance behind him, the jungle of threads vanished from sight. The vortex had adjusted to the spell, rendering it useless. The time of calm was over. Soon they’d have to brace themselves for the second attack.