Liam said his goodbyes to the elves. Taking the time to hug each of his family members, including the eclipsiarchs. Moriel was noticeably absent, though that was because she tried to hide in Liam’s crystal teardrop, not understanding that he shaped the quartz around him with magic instead of squeezing through the tailpipe.
Leandry had discovered her, half stuffed into the teardrop. Her head fully trapped, yowling for the entire forest to hear. Luckily for Nekohiro, a hot puff of spirit magic extricated her from the tailpipe. Though it couldn’t save her the long walk back to Raina. Or the chaperones she installed to keep an eye on the wayward teen.
Still, Liam found a hug for her too. Half sister’s clone or not, he’d become fond of the teen. In a strange way, he hoped that Furana would be similar.
“I seem to have lost a staff in the woods, a fully charged one. Would be a shame if no one ever found it.” He whispered into her ear.
The unannounced challenge lit up her eyes, tempering the sorrow that once filled them. Even Selewyne’s sophistry couldn’t deflect from Liam’s hug. Fortunately for both men, the old man had found a robe of umbral threads, making Liam wonder just how many umbraquins he’d shaved over the centuries.
And then Liam flew away. Propelled by the spirit affinity.
‘Quetz, I’m headed for Talocandel now. See you in a week.’
‘About time you left that bird’s nest! These griffons have no respect for me! The ingrates! Don’t they know who I am? I had to kill three before they started showing me the righteous amount of difference! Oh, and I'm bringing the hydra. She finally decided to wake up and be a person.’ Said Quetz.
A dozen questions filled Liam’s mind. All quickly answered by his knowledge of the serpent deity. Did Quetz eat those griffons? Probably. Had he fed one to the Euralyemorph? Probably. Had he filled her with enough magic to wake her up so he wasn’t the only serpent in Liam’s proximity? Probably.
I guess Quetz and I are more familiar than we thought.
‘Hey Quetz, I hope you’re back to your big snake size.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. That’ll take centuries, but I’m not a noodle anymore.’
The link fell silent, both men needing to focus on flying. Liam climbed high on his latest crystal teardrop, this one was larger than the others, with four hollow wings made out of life magic grown wood. It had taken a dozen tried, but he’d found a lumpy oval shape that allowed truly glide. Though it took six wings spread out across a ten foot teardrop. Which was fine with him, as it allowed him to carry more supplies and staves. Including a dagger from Leandry, gold from Raina, and a whole crate of griffon nuggets. Which he’d have to eat sooner rather than later.
It took a single day to exit the forest, covering hundreds of miles in the fourteen hours of light he had. Always following a pattern of climb until he tired, then allow the plane to glide, building up speed until he was pushing against the sound barrier, then coast. It was surreal, never in any existence had he imagined flying under his own power, in a vehicle of his own creation. Nor could he imagine the view. The closeness of the trees, the towering mountainsides that burst from the forest’s floor, to tower above his flight, far beyond his maximum altitude. Yet plants grew along the mountains, as if the lack of oxygen meant nothing.
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So great was the glider’s speed that no creatures troubled Liam’s flight, all ignoring the strangely unidentifiable flying object as it passed through their airspace. Wyverns, griffons –far smaller than the monstrocity Liam had slain–, eagles, and things that may have been dragons all avoided the craft, or chased after it, only to find it was far too swift.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Siad Liam, talking to himself to keep focused as the sun began to set.
The forest’s edge was within sight, and now came the difficult part of his journey. Stopping for naptime. He’d hoped to seek refuge in the various churches, since he could work light magic and claim to be a half elf in service to the Kheresh Fulminonimbus, a white lie that would not be worth a bishop’s time to pursue, nor would it lead to consequences should his true identity be uncovered, for he would be long gone.
But, he hadn’t expected the human world to be on fire. Every town on his maps was leveled, burnt to ashes and trampled underfoot. Not even the stone cathedrals remained, as if some jealous god had made a point to erase all traces of those bastions. Faced with landing in a warzone or flying through the darkness, Liam trusted in his eyes. Gliding through the night by virtue of Luna’s guidance.
Which is how he counted the armies. Scores of marching columns moved in the darkness, some illuminated by torches, other following glowing things. Luminescing monsters if Liam was forced to guess. But they did not ravage the human lands unopposed. Warbands of torchbearers moved against the lights, and often two of the burning slugs would collide. Lights vanishing as battles raged. Only for one of the columns to relight after one was utterly annihilated. Though no warband survived without dwindling. Still, Liam flew on.
This wasn’t his fight. He could not leap into these roving battles and pick a side. The southern lands were brutalized beyond repair. King Aldrics designs of sending felinids here was nothing more than a method of extermination. No civilized towns or hierarchy’s remained. For every human dwelling and field now harbored monsters, or was a den of wild things, or was trampled. No where for Liam to land. His mana was dwindling, but not as swiftly as his fading mind. Flying alone had lost it’s charm. Becoming a dull grind that was going on eighteen hours straight.
He needed to land. Find a place to rest, somewhere safe while he still had enough mana to defend himself if the need arose. This was only the first day of his journey.
Pace yourself, no reason to burn out on the first night. You’ll never reach Nyota if you do that. Stay focused. You’re almost home. Thought Liam.
His eyes slid shut. His exhausted mind scanning for mana. Somewhere in this plundered land had to be a fortress, a bastion of strength. Such a place could not exist without magi, so that was his best shot at safety.
Three hours passed. Pinpricks of light moved through the night. Monsters that were filled with mana, or wandering magi in search of shelter, or maybe fleeing from a defeat.
The sun rose on the horizon, and exhaustion truly settled into Liam’s mind. He started looking around, scanning for a cluster of trees or a cave he could hide in. There was painfully little. So he flew onwards. Ever onwards.
Which is when the fortress came into view. It was so bright he marveled at how his mana sense could have missed it. Three enormous stepped pyramids, ziggurats, stood like the pyramids of Giza, surrounded by a wall of equally grand proportions and a town with three rivers flowing through it. Undoubtedly this was the capital of Vere, a marquidom or mark or march of the southern lands. Hundreds of magi defended it’s walls, and three crystals floated above the ziggurats, shooting beams of concentrated light at any intruders who managed to mount the walls. It was like a ginormous turret mounted on a swivel, blasting monsters with the unerring accuracy of an Apex Legend’s aimbot.
A laugh escaped Liam’s lips, he’d found safety. He aimed the nose for those ziggurats, giving the teardrop a blast of speed. He dove, wind whistling around the craft as he plummeted. Speed became paramount, he was almost safe.
Until the ziggurat aimed at him.
He sensed the buildup of mana, sensed it aiming at his teardrop. But his exhausted mind could not grasp that a human fortress would not consider a flying elf to be their ally. So he did nothing to dodge the ziggurat’s blast.