The ziggurat charged a beam of light, gathering enough energy to melt an orc and blasted the teardrop. Liam’s craft –at the inflection of it’s dive– broke the sound barrier. Light mana connected with the ship, blasting a four foot long gash in its roof and very nearly coring the ship. Energy burnt through Liam’s back, melting his flesh.

“Oh shit!”

Liam threw the craft sideways, banking away from the city, wondering if his sudden acceleration had thrown off the ziggurat’s shot. Wind ripped through the teardrop, trying to eject pilot and supplies. [split mind] activated as Liam cast two spells. One for a tailwind, and one to reseal the ship.

Another shot from the ziggurat rippled behind him, purging his wake. Two different manas collided, each annihilating the other. He slowed, suddenly on an unpowered glide.

The teardrop bucked as its propulsion stuttered, soon rekindling as Liam cleared the wall and skimmed the ground. Teardrop whooshy whoosh-ing around the city, kicking up a dust cloud to blind the defenders.

Liam breathed a sigh of relief, allowing the ship to bleed speed and slip below the supersonic barrier.

A rookie mistake. Any veteran yoke actuator would know that when you break the sound barrier it creates a supersonic shockwave that causes turbulence. Like a yacht at full speed powering through a lake, the faster it goes, the larger the wake. If you stopped the supersonic wake would hit you, rocking the boat. But Liam’s craft wasn’t a boat, and turbulence could just as easily flip his teardrop into a lawn dart. At the speed of sound.

The wake caught him, chucking the ship violently into the air. It jumped ten feet in a second, then plummeted twenty, with only Liam’s split mind talent casting multiple wind spells, keeping it aloft. A cloud of dust burst around him, obscuring his view. He pushed the aircraft upwards, trying to rise above the cloud. A difficult choice, but between the ziggurat’s blast and face planting into dirt at terminal velocity, he would risk getting shot. He rose above the dust cloud, flying in a rapid alternation of left and right banking, constantly twisting in air. But it was all for nothing.

Once he’d passed beyond the defensive wall the ziggurats moved onto different targets. Ignoring the furiously serpentining craft. Guards and magi watched as Liam’s craft continued to slow, eventually steadying as he saw the ziggurat’s target other creatures. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, wiring his weary mind. Around and below him orcs assailed the city. The green giants tossing hellhounds and feathered dinosaurs onto the city walls, then cackling like madmen when the ziggurats evaporated the monsters. Occasionally the orcs would throw a smaller version of themselves, a weedy green sort of human.

That’s a hell of a way to teach your kids how to fly. Thought Liam, zipping past as one of the mini-orcs was hit by a ziggurat.

He completed three circumnavigations of the city, realizing that only the southern half of the city was being assaulted. A baffling affair but one he wouldn’t shake a gift horse at. It was time to land. Land and ask for shelter before he passed out.

Two well worn roads led into Vere, both were identical. Or they would be to the naked eye. Abandoned and unoccupied. Except for the lumps of coalescing mana that tunneled beneath one of them. Some sort of subterranean monster. Invisible to normal humans, but louder than peacocks at noon to Liam.

So he landed on the further road, being careful to slow the craft and approach at a reasonable pace, buzzing above the road until he landed roughly twenty paces in front of the gatehouse. Where eight men aimed cannons at him.

Crude and hastily made the cannons were little more than tubes of bronze. A goldish alloy that was more yellow and less lustrous than the genuine article. With burning wicks held above the cannon’s rear and no sights to align the six foot long tubes. A dozen men stood atop the gatehouse, some carried sticks with black wads on the end and two men wore particularly durable helmets. They were shouting at him, waving their arms and spitting furiously.

Liam spun the ship sideways, parking it just off the road. Then opened the top ‘hatch’. Similar to his first teardrop, he’d striated the inside of this craft, leaving grooves so he could launch fragments like a spear, or so there were creases he could use as a hatch. Thinner walls meant he expended less mana to ‘open’ and ‘close’ the roof.

“Hey guys, how can I fly into your city?” Called Liam, speaking in the northern dialect of Greenwood.

“You’re an elf!” Shouted one of the helmets.

“A mage too!” Called Liam, adding to their shock.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet, shaking the teardrop and sending vibrations through his pants.

“Get inside! Open the gates!” Shouted the other helmet. “Quick! Before the diggers grab ya!”

Liam ignored them, stepping out of the teardrop he knelt, planting both hands on the ground. Four things were tunneling towards him, three from the other gate and one from further up the road. Long things, with claws and a tail. Things he recognized.

“Well hello you old arachnids! I’ve learned some new tricks since we last met. Stick around and see.” Said Liam.

He stood, casually strolling back to the teardrop and retrieving his earth affinity staff. All the while the guards howled. Begging for him to join them.

“Yeah, yeah, be with you in a second.” Called Liam.

He planted the staff’s tip in the dirt, converting columns of subterranean earth into four quartz spikes ahead of the scorpions. These creatures were simple minded things, they had no comprehension of mana, or how a magi might hunt them. One of them crossed above the prepared quartz, triggering his trap. Quartz screeched against chitin and stone, erupting from the earth like a popped pimple, fresh with blood. One down. The other three failed to grasp the danger, only thinking of being the first to eat Liam. They fell, or rather, rose, each scorpion impaled by a ten foot quartz spike.

Liam stood, brushing off his hands and staff.

“So… Where can I park my plane?” Called Liam, turning to find a dozen men with confusion written over their mouths.

And one helmet absolutely beaming, with the largest smile Liam had ever seen.

Ah, that’s… creepy.

“Open the gates! Let the elf mage and his bird in!” Shouted the helmeted officier.

A few moments later and Liam found himself aboard a wagon, headed towards the city center, with Mr Smiles eagerly chatting him up.

“Ah, Master elf, the way you skewered those bugs was most impressive! How did you target them so accurately? Four spikes and four of them died! We’ve had to extend the walls thirty feet down to keep them out. Damn bugs won’t get the message and leave us alone. They aint even decent enough to taste good. Too chewy and gamey. Like a stringy spring hare, one that hasn’t ‘ad a chance to fatten up after hibernating through winter.” Blabbed the man, never shutting his mouth.

It was impressive really, the way he spoke without ever stopping for air.

“They’re arachnids.” Said Liam.

“Oh, what was that sir?”

“The tunnelers are giant scorpions, so they’re arachnids. Not quite insects. Eight legs, no wings or antennae and only two body segments.” Said Liam.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“You must be a powerful mage to know that. I’m too busy fighting for my life when I see em to count their legs! Ahaha.” Chortled the helmet, guffawing as if he was a comedian.

“Indeed. I need to rest here for a day or two, then continue my flight north to the capitol. There is business I must attend there. How is is that Vere stands alone in the southlands? How long have you been fighting the orcs for?”

At the mention of Talocandel the helmet sat a bit straighter, realizing he was in the presence of an ambassador.

“Are the elves coming to our aid?” His voice trembled, losing its earlier mirth.

Liam kept his face neutral, not wanting to panic the man. No, the elves were not coming to help the city that dumped thousands of slaves on them. Why would they?

“Ahem, I flew over the horde out there, you’ve got hundreds of orcs on one flank. But it would be thousands if the elves weren’t already fighting in the forests.”

“Ah, Praise Taloc! Just wait til they arrive! Are you flying ahead of the host as a scout?”

Liam shook his head. This man was incorrigible, ignoring Liam’s questions and asking his own. To shut him up he extended his hand, palm upraised and summoned three spheres, one of pure white light to represent the holy affinity, a mirage of half visible wind for spirit magic, and an orb of water. Three affinities, marking Liam as a threefold mage, and an elf. Which was remarkable enough that even a half rate junior officer on gate duty could recognize.

He immediately knelt, yanking off his helmet.

“My apologies Lord! I- I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, shuttup.” Snapped Liam. “I’ve been flying for a full day and a full night. Just get me somewhere safe where I can sleep.”

“Ah, yessir!” The man twisted in the wagon, half tripping over the crystal teardrop. “To the Marquis’ estate! We have a threefold mage!” He ordered.

The driver gave a halfhearted ‘yessir’ though he started sneaking glances at Liam’s back. As if he were trying to immortalize the memory. Liam ignored him, focused solely on the corporal’s unwelcome briefing. Portals had started appearing roughly three years ago, just after Pandora’s death, but they started with simple things, the occasional scorpion, or a housecat that ate other housecats. Rare occurrences that alerted the Marquis. He’d taken appropriate measures, storing extra food, commissioning additional patrols, and reinforcing the city at large. Simple acts, but the man was ferociously prudent. Those precautions had kept Vere in a state of peace for the past two years, while town after town fell around them, consumed by the failings of imprudent men. It was only in the last year that squads of orcs had banded together, sacking walled towns and smashing their way through keeps, right up until they reached the ziggurats of Vere. Ancient structures that protected the city.

“No amount of orcs is enough to bring them down. We’re safe ‘ere, our only concern is keeping it that way.” Said Corporal Helmet, dropping Liam off at the Marquis’ estate.

It was a bit spartan for a noble’s dwelling, with clean stone walls and a tame garden that sprawled across the manor. A ten foot thick wall surrounded the estate, with armed guards patrolling the walltop and keeping the manor protected. While the other half of the estate was an orchard of intertwining trees, sucking in all the humidity that warm Vere could offer. A green wall that rose to half the ziggurat’s height but encompassed an area far larger. A sort of wild farm built into the fortifications. Yet the trunks were thicker than a wagon, evidence that maybe it was the other way around, with the fortifications being built around the trees.

“My lord! I’ve found him! He’s on your doorstep!” Shouted a voice.

“Henrietta! Don’t you start with me.” Shouted a gruff voice, growing louder. “Nothing can fly within the city! So how did that contraption get into my city? It’s preposterous, there would be no way for it to–”

A redhead poked her head out of the front door, shocking Liam. Not with her speed, no, but with her resemblance to Velena. It was as if the mean-spirited paladin had regressed two decades, and taken a bath. Either fact would be equally surprising. Her face was free of dirt, and the smile there was a thing of joy. Instead of the dark smirk of schadenfreude.

“-fly into our courtyard!” Finished the second voice.

Hot-Not-Velena bounded forward, curtseying in the noble greeting.

“Welcome master elf. I am the First Daughter of the Vere Marches, Henrietta Vere.” She said.

Just in time for an old man, balding, overweight, with a head half covered in a patch of ginger hair. His mouth opened, and fell slack at the arrival of a dark elf on his porch. While his eyes bugged at the sight the teardrop, knocking all words out of his mouth.

“My name is Tufan Biliam Alhusam, I am a half elf paladin from Khereshetal. Currently under the command of First Captain Thaddeus, and his crusade to aid the Barony of Greenwood.”

His introduction left both nobles confused, as well as their nearby servants and guards.

“A half elf? Not with ears like that you’re not! Said the man, speaking before thinking. “Oh, ahem, a paladin, you say? Please, pardon my rudeness, but if you could demonstrate your affinity I would be most grateful. These are strange times–”

Two of the ziggurats fired in unison, illuminated the city like a bolt of lightning. Particles of mana rolled off them like rain, as if each shot produced magical waste, or was charged with a different affinity and doing it’s best to compensate.

“--Very strange times. A man can’t be too cautious.” The man finished.

Liam humored him, conjuring the same trick he’d shown to corporal helmet.

“A threefold paladin elf? Are you sure you’re not a First Captain yourself?” Said the elder man.

“Quite sure. Paperwork doesn’t suit me.” Said Liam, smiling enough to show both incisors.

“This is my grandfather, Marquis Vere, Patriarch and Lord of these lands.” Said Henrietta.

Grandfather, so… Is this Velena’s grandpa or her dad? Wondered Liam.

One of ziggurats shot, a tiny sneeze of mana. Entirely unlike the potent blows it had thus far used.

“BAH! This is not time for pleasantries! To the ziggurat!” Shouted the Marquis.

He clasped Liam and Henrietta by the hands, dashing through the manor’s grounds and between the orchard trees until he reached the wall. Two guards opened a sallyport for him, and the trio seemed to vanish into a stone tunnel, quickly finding a stone staircase that looped back on itself, switching with each floor until you reached the pinnacle of the tower. Where a gem –the size of an eighteen wheeler– floated, suspended by a dozen golden chains. A strange choice, given the comparative value and overall structural weakness of gold, but it seemed necessary due to the boiling mana that filled the tower.

Raw energy flowed up the stairwell’s central shaft. Like a geyser of liquid fire. No energy was flowing from outside the tower, leaving Liam with the question of where the mana was flowing from, if it wasn’t leeching their own.

Mana entered the crystal at an impressive rate. Except it wasn’t enough. The crystal was empty, filling slowly. Liam could feel the crystal trying to shoot, yearning to destroy the invaders, but its mana was insufficient. Unable to meet the minimum strength for a bolt. It managed an asthmatic gasp, lobbing one shot at a climbing orc. The creature raised its axe overhead, only for his arm and head to vanish as the halfhearted bolt found him. Orc guts sprayed over the battlements, dousing the other climbers. That singular shot made the ziggurat shudder. It had taken longer to charge that shot than it had for Liam to ascend the tower, at this rate, it would be a shot every ten minutes, if not longer.

Marquis Vere lifted one of the golden chains, wrapping it around both hands. Mana –visible only to Liam– seemed to reach out and bite into his hands, siphoning thick streams of mana from the Marquis. Henrietta knelt beside him, taking up her own chain and channeling her own red fire into the weapon. It began to fill at a rapid rate, recharging with the fury of Hades himself. A burst of six shots rippled through the ziggurat.

Six distant orcs blew apart, erupting in flames as raw mana plowed through their chests. Liam watched the process with a tired curiosity. His brain only half functional. The conversion efficiency from the chains to the crystal was inefficient. Mana bled from the gold and the connection between each link seemed an especially poor conductor. As if it was struggling to move electricity through a thinner wire.

Hmm, guess it doesn’t like fire mana. Thought Liam, extending his hand directly to the crystal.

Hair raised, standing on end. Like licking a nine volt battery or rubbing your socks across the carpet. And something whispered from within the stone, something hungry. It screamed quietly, as if a hiker on the opposite side of a mountain screamed hello. The coarse sound entering his mind harshly. With the emotions of a man trying to be found through a blizzard. Liam’s main affinity, lightning, was always charged, and seemed to pull from a separate reserve than his other powers. He shrugged.

Can’t hurt to help out a little, might even help me sleep. I’ll just say I'm a sage if they start asking questions.

Electrical mana flowed from Liam directly into the crystal, quickly charging it to full. It glowed like a full moon and cracked off dozens of shots at a machinegun pace. Dozens turned into scores, scores blasted past a hundred. The crystal widened its range, not just blasting orcs who’d mounted the walls, but blasting the orcs who were a ‘safe’ distance away. They’d been clapping and howling encouragement to their peers, celebration that turned abruptly. Green men exploded in every direction. Whatever battleline the orcs had tried to hold scattered, every greenskin running for their lives. And still Liam charged the crystal. It was so easy.

Ten minutes. That was the amount of time it took to break the orcish horde, scattering them to the four winds. Well, for that day at least. Tomorrow their bloodlust would thirst once more, and the greenskins would forget about their casualties. Once more proving that speech was not a sign of intelligence.

Hmmm. I overdid it again… Thought Liam.

“How?” Whispered Marquis Vere.

“I’m too tired for this bullshit. Show me where I can take a nap.” Said Liam, heading back down the stairs.