Eli pov

Early morning cold bit at my palms as they worked the stone ridge freshly summoned from nothing, moving the folds of my brown coat and white shirt in the weak light as they did so. Directly ahead was the sheer drop from the three-story wall I had made all that while ago. Atop the rampart of the vast walls, the only competition for height nearby was the five-story abode farther to my back left near the road to Crasden and the massive tower a bit behind me. Standing at nine-and-some floors, the thing dwarfed any pretension of grand scale that the sister city, Crasden, could offer even with the upper floors being wood. To be fair to the Rodring kingdom’s architects, it had no internal structure aside from bracing and an elevator.

The sheer scale of things was lost on my company. Surrounding all sides were the ever-present guards, two of whom had personally helped Gula filch my crafts. It was to my liking, however, and they were certainly of better spirit than the foreman hugging my left. His nervous rubbing of a black mustache was made more pronounced with the bits of sweat falling onto his brown coat, something at odds with the clouds of mist escaping his mouth into the frigid northern air.

“A thousand apologies, Great mage.” He sputtered, his left hand making a conspicuous effort to not rub his forehead. “I’ll have the workers whipped for their idiocy.”

A sigh escaped my lips through the red cloth covering my face.

“No. Tell them that the edges need to be a bit thicker by about a half-foot. Do. Not. Do anything that might delay them in the task at hand. I might be working on the tower for the rest of the day, so I might not be able to give them the personal tour. Come back here near sunset and have them see what I did.”

He gave a deep bow without any further groveling, a position I left him in as I took off down the wall towards the staircase leading to the open stone floor inside my walls. All work projects had their unique advantages and challenges. The ones here were the added moral boost of them possibly all dying if they didn’t work fast enough and the fear that they might offend their better. At first, the latter made it easier to put them to the grindstone yet…

Off in the distance ahead, the drawback to their fear presented itself again. This time in the form of a long slab of stone being lifted up the duo stairs that served as both entrance and exit to these heights. Wrapped in ropes and sporting several men underneath lifting it onto the lisp, the rock was just asking to claim one of the poorly insulated peasants beneath it like a bug on the business end of a boot. Dashing forward, my earth spell took the slab from the backs of the men and placed it off to the right inside a large square marked off with charcoal. A wave of panic seized the men under the block until they saw me standing above them with those on the ledge shirking back at my aid.

“Who’s in charge?” I demanded of the rather sheepish-looking men, who all looked down like errant children.

“Me, lord. I am.” One slightly muscular man stepped forward from my right, head raised with an uncertain shake showing beneath his cloth face wrap. Sweat ran down his white shirt and grey pants with streaks of stone dust across his person and wild red hair. Those brown eyes had the weight of a man offering himself up to the beast for a distraction.

“Were you not instructed to put such tasks in the queue for me to do?” I demanded with some faint irritation.

He looked down, no longer able to meet my gaze.

“I was under the impression that your aid was the crafts. It never occurred to me that direct labor would be… The decision was mine alone, great mage.”

Rolling my eyes, I put a hand on his shoulder. Even with that kind gesture, he dared not look up.

“Go to the foreman and get, in exact detail, what the workflow is. If you’re not sure, just ask yourself if it could get workers killed. Generally, a yes means that it’s a job for me.”

“Yes… Great mage.” He said, his voice having a tone of gratitude while his clenched fists told of terror.

Nodding, I turned down towards the other block of stone near the bottom of the steps. Walking down past the men who immediately clung to the side of the wall like their lives depended on it, I could barely contain a huff of irritation. As easy as it was to take control of the worksite with my authority as a mage, the deathly fear the magicless peasants had of my kind had slowed down the work pace in several instances.

Dozens of workers would abandon their posts to do some heavy tasks I could do in a few minutes, something I’ve had to correct on several occasions. Once an entire worksite came to a standstill because the overseers and workers were trying to figure out how to fix a craft that got crushed to mulch under a stone block. The funeral procession that came up to me with a handful of minced wood wasted a good dozen labor hours. It didn’t happen too often, but it was extremely aggravating when it did. I at least had the fact that face coverings were ubiquitous due to the sheer cold this far north to provide some comfort.

The large slab for molding was quickly put in place and I left the now thoroughly confused team to its task with my guards in tow. Walking across the open stone expanse I had made, the crowd of workers only grew as I approached the massive tower. Men in ragged clothing with only the occasional scarf or coat for warmth swarmed around, seeing to one task or another. As is typical in this or any other dimension, it was the kitchen taking up most of my right side that saw the bulk of the action.

Winter had a firm grip on everyone’s throat, from the clouds of steam coming out of mouths to the bits of ice along the walls. Defying that direction, the men were rather happy and the women working the kitchen or stitching clothes seemed to be in their element. Maybe it was the wide-open space that contrasted with the cramped living in the city, or my insistence that people eating meager rations provide substandard products. Some workers in the back were enjoying the ‘special meal portions’ while pots of various soups and kegs of weak beer in the various tents were being worked almost non-stop even as a strong gust blew through them.

None of which involved the main task leading me outside the camp to the biggest piece of work. A pillar of stone loomed over everything else, and it wasn’t just the perception from me approaching it. Thrice as tall as my outer walls and almost twice the highest point Crasden could muster, the wide stone base jutted out of the ground with four of the upper floors being made of wood.

A grand structure serving as nothing more than a base for the equally oversized catapult that had its beam sticking out over the land below. Around the side was a small patrol of guards standing by the entrance and between them were the wide double doors leading inside. The immediate area around the tower was purposefully kept empty from all passersby, leaving the guards a clear view of me when I broke from the pack, not that my entourage would have been hard to miss.

All it took was a simple nod for me to be let in with my men. Inside was no less cold and far more cramped. The tower was a hundred-plus feet wide yet inside there was only a large single room with small lamps dotting the wall, bearing the wax and wicker used by regular humans due to the extraordinary demands on the local mana. In the center was a crude elevator, made up of strong wooden guardrails, ropes, and a box. Far tougher due to magical enhancement and made to my satisfaction. Not that those things made it any easier to get people to use it. Around that central means of transport were various crafts and bits of wood, brought up when needed by the woman assembling the entire point of the building. At that box shafts of light trickled in from the higher floors.

My feet clapped on the stone floor while my eyes absorbed the sum of the current contents around the room. These past few days, I had made every craft in here, from the small poles for molding the tiniest details to rigid wooden rulers for measuring the evenness of each block and, of course, stone summoning slabs. If the lacking total of what I saw was anything to go by, Harrah’s labor was in full swing above.

Three of the guards stole ahead of me, taking their usual spots on the elevator platform before pulling on a rope in the middle. As was customary, the men insisted on testing it each time before I did, both for the fall and to make sure the roof above was safe. These were all bachelors, which in the Central Continent society meant they had a green lady. They knew I was the only thing keeping the heads of themselves and their women on their shoulders and would broker no risk to my person.

A few minutes of wasted time went by before two came back down and nodded to me. Some snide comment about how reassured I was played at the tip of my tongue for a moment until being quashed. Plodding onto the wooden platform and securing the rails, I pulled on the rope, sending my cage upward with a slight jolt. Morning light was still coming down with our ascent and there should be an hour of two of decent sunlight left in this winter’s day.

Along the way I saw the counter weighing stone drop to the side until we came up to the seventh floor. The newest abode was a bare level with some food and buckets of human waste, both on opposite ends. Slits along the stone walls allowed some light in and across the stone floor. Not taking any chances, I covered the inner structure of wood in a thin layer of stone to help prevent fires while the outer walls were given extra coatings of near-iron strong magically enhanced wood.

Against the left wall was a ladder leading up to the final two levels. My inner architect was having a fit about the elevator not leading all the way up and the lack of a staircase around the outside in case of a fire or failure in the only means down. This tower, like so much I had made here, was riddled with one compromise or another in the name of time. Those internal grumbles continued while my body marched on with the labor at hand by shimmying up the cold wood.

Making my way up the tower, I looked behind me to see the two floors. Save some supports holding up the roof, the last two floors were an empty expanse merged into one. Harrah decided on a straight drop construction for the catapult’s counterweight, owing to the difficulties of making a tower that could handle such large horizontal movements. The large boulder in question was a massive square in the back, the vision of which was obstructed by a stream of blue flecks going through the stone floor above.

The trip to the top took a few more seconds before the wind blew over the stone parapet directly ahead and clobbered me, stealing my breath for a moment as the cold up here had a particularly brutal bite. A second passed as I made sure the brown coat was more properly buttoned up.

“Is everything ok, great mage?” A concerned voice called from below.

“Bad winds. Make sure you’re prepared.” I responded before taking the final few upward steps. Another gust took me as I came onto the open roof, this time foiled by my properly prepared protection. Being the highest point pretty much anywhere, the view was turbulent seas directly ahead and a barely seen cityscape to the left with grassy plains and almost tree-like bushes to the right. All distant enough for the mind to fill in the unseen details with beauty and the heart to swell with pride at having the highest roost around. Something the socialites of corporate circles or their children often paid for in extravagant sums.

Such grand and petty thoughts had escaped the woman plying her trade on the siege engine in the last direction and opposite my entrance. The long block had the typical dual side-frames holding the long shaft of the catapult. That spear of wood stuck out over its base and the confines of the tower, stretching out like an accusing finger into the open air. My main source of pain was inside the wooden structure. Making the series of pulleys and ropes needed to properly pull the shaft's bottom had been a process of some trial and error, something the air scion at the front end of the wide wooden box knew as well as I did.

“Harrah,” I called, making the twin pigtails of black hair shift around to me. Her blue eyes locked onto me, those smooth cheekbones showing some dimples as the small woman smiled at me. The green and brown leather armor provided some general protection to her slim frame, though the soft white scarf suggested not enough temperature-wise.

“Tilvor,” She shot back, rubbing her stubby chin as her eyes turned back to the array of wooden poles and planks around her. The member of Palta’s guard was the resident siege engine expert and, as easy as taking over her job would be, I was chained by the story I had sold them. Being an architect from books and saving people of such a craft was pushing the bounds of believability for a ‘savage mage from the wilds’. Having mastery of the physics involved in sending large boulders skyward boulders would be a lie spread too thin. Coming up to her right, I looked into the guts of the wooden block.

“How are things? It’s always nice to see the tower still standing, but the lack of damage suggests a lack of testing.”

An indignant snort floated over the wind.

“That’s what people who didn’t think things through try to sell when they have to justify a mess. If Palta asked, I’d tell her we’re ready to destroy some ships, but the main spool for transferring the downward force to the counterweight is taking more strain than I’m comfortable with. We need to add some reinforcement.”

In spite of my expertise, I found myself rather impressed with her. I had planned to run a full test, which would have sheared off that too-small spool and left us enough time to fix it. To see the flaw beforehand meant she knew her craft well enough that I wouldn’t have to torture a lot of scenarios into existence to point out failings in our child.

Letting loose a sigh at this entirely unexpected delay, I only nodded to her before picking up the needed crafts.

Heavy winds were obstructed by the beast whose guts we were fine-tuning, but even the sturdiest walls couldn’t hold back the cold. Not this far north or at this height. The patchy sky and meager sun watched on for an hour or two before our cloth-covered hands worked the now sturdier spool back into place above the chasm below with the big boulder peering through the floor. We were in a small half hallway in the center of the beast, small enough to allow workers and the needed ropes and not a hair more.

“Tilvor, how confident are you in this tower?” Harrah asked from my left. Turning back up from the hole below, I looked at the short woman, making sure to not knock against the near-thigh-thick rope between us.

“It’s boring.” I offered to a raised eyebrow from the air scion. “Thick slabs of stone for a base, ringed with wood that’s been hardened to something close to metal. The tricky part was dealing with the forces of a giant trebuchet and the swinging movement. Having enough of that magically enhanced wood did the job, however. I’ve thrown stone blocks almost a time and a half larger than any we’re using, or the pirates will lob up here. No rooms, outlets for sewage, or chimneys for fireplaces. It was built for one thing, and it does it exceptionally well. Which will be shown when we give it a proper test.”

A shrug was her first answer.

“Palta wanted to talk about it. She’s worried about how slow the other fortifications have been.”

My lips popped at the suggestion in her voice.

“The boss needs to understand that I did the tower first because it’s what will make this place a target.”

Harrah gave me a small smile as her hands idly rubbed the rope between us.

“She’s under a lot of stress right now. Well, more than usual, at least. The south’s barely holding together and… Her inclination… I’ll just say that she relies on her reputation as a competent military leader more than most to get even a scrap of respect. If she can’t pull through here, it’ll be years of grueling agony to claw it all back.”

Nodding my head in agreement, I could only mentally sigh at the pettiness of it all.

“Is it all to your liking then, Harrah?”

Blue eyes roamed the ropes and wooden supports for a few seconds until she turned back to me.

“For now. Until that test comes through, I can’t see anything else to do.”

Turning around towards the exit in the back of the giant box, we left the fruit of our labors. Taking the elevator down with the guards, I left to continue fortifying the walls. As soon as we came out of the tower in a gust of snow and damp cold, Harrah took off in a blast of wind with a thrilled smile plastered across her face. Her jump being thrice the height of a man drew far more attention than her mood, however. No such whimsy awaited me for the rest of the day.

Despite my best efforts, details were always missing in the construction. Sometimes annoying little things, like the stone shield sides not having the notches on the sides for holding crossbows. Other times, I had run in to keep several workers from being squashed. Moving huge slabs of stone up the fortification was grinding down my patience, yet it was needed all the same. The sun fell quickly and plunged the worksite into darkness, further slowing work as the starlight was too weak this night to properly see. The men, despite this, continued laboring under torches though the biggest job of moving those stone slabs off their crafts in the field was left to the next morning. My portion of labor continued until my tongue struggled to use the right words and the prospect of sleeping on the kitchen benches became appealing.

Leaving the worksite, I moved past the lines of gradually forming stones on wood boards and up to the rectangular box of stone with a rounded roof that I currently called home. It was the same as ever, save the princess and a torch-carrying Bella in front of my door. The bitter chill and soft rush of water were ever-present with the river running around the abode. I gave a nod to the guards in the small station I made to the right of the bridge leading into my home before walking up to the wooden plank and acknoledged the guests bearing a torch hanging around my door.

To the left was Palta, her black dress flowing in the breeze along with her equally black hair. Those green eyes over her thin nose and sharp jaw had the air of exhaustion. The cream wrap of fur around her neck clashed with the brown and green leather armor of the woman on her left who was carrying the torch. Bella was a thin thing, with shoulder-length brown hair and matching eyes. Her sharp nose sniffed in the cold.

“I hope I haven’t been keeping royalty waiting.” I casually offered the duo.

A stiff smile was all Palta gave me as I moved past the two of them. Opening the door, I came into an open space on the right and a wall with a door in the middle on the left. The right served as a kitchen and resting area, complete with a small brick oven in the back and a table in the middle. All now bathed in a shifting golden glow.

“Harrah informed me that a test is in order,” Palta said, walking past me towards the available seat at the kitchen table. There was less refinement in her movements, the loud scrape as she pulled back the chair reverberating on the bare stone walls. Bella affixed her burden to a torch holder in the wall and quickly joined her with a plop in a chair to the right.

“Yes.” I offered, taking in the exhausted auras from my guests as I claimed the seat on the left. “Though I thought you would have wanted to have this conversation in your tower. The royal lady visiting a man’s home so late at night. Such a meeting might make tongues twirl.”

“Pfft!” Bella huffed, with Palta staring down at the wood like she was trying to get the secrets of the universe from its gnarled curves. “I think our situation would improve from such rumors. People thinking we have some kind of taste for men would make dealing with the associations far more bearable.”

I raised an eyebrow at the two women. The lack of denial from either confirmed the loose talk I had heard sprinkled about the workers. Leaning back into my chair, I stretched some of the day’s exhaustion away.

“Perhaps you have a preference for older men. Have you ever been proposed by a man with some wrinkles and grey in his hair?”

A chuckle came from Bella who leaned back in her chair. Palta allowed only a small smile as she put her head into her hands with her elbows supporting. Those green eyes stared at the center of the table as her shoulders seemed to shirk inwards.

“Hey, maybe that’s our problem after all? Bessie’s and Oswald’s sires were all younger men.” The earth caster offered with a teasing tone, her soft smile fading as her water scion stayed as still as a statue. We both kept silent for a moment as the princess worked through whatever problems were wracking her. After a minute of contemplation, she finally leaned back, sending a cascade of that near waist-long hair behind her.

“Speaking of being fucked, I’ve gotten more letters from home,” Palta announced with none of the subtle poise of her station. “Our south is barely holding it together. The Fjords are doing their best but for all intents and purposes, this northern route is going to be more important than it’s ever been. How confident are you in the coming battle?”

I went over several figures, taking a few seconds to soak in that icy air.

“Very. The sea-bound filth will die that day, even if I have to personally wade into the ocean and choke every last one of them myself. Though, I’m hoping our over-fed siege engine will do the job. Of course, I have to test the thing before its boulders can be the last thing many of them see.

Even with that, the faint smell of something wrong hangs over their whole plan. There’s nothing left for us to do but prepare, yet the fact they’re coming here at all suggests some trick hanging up their sleeves. Taking on the city could be easy. Razing my defenses to the ground would be difficult. Meeting three scions on the battlefield with none of their own? They say yes to that, and their answer gives me pause.”

Small clouds of air shot out of the women’s noses, accompanying a long sigh from Palta who continued her staring contest with my furniture. The lack of reaction to my suspicion told me they had long considered such a prospect.

“Should we wait to test it?” Bella asked, hands strumming the table with soft thuds. “Giving away the reach of our biggest weapon may not be a good idea.”

The princess looked at me with the same tired expression, awaiting an answer.

“The point of all this, Bella, is that we force them to come here. Most of the killing will still be done by regular catapults and swords but we need to make sure it works for the fight to take place where we want it too.”

“Yes,” Palta agreed with a pinch of her nose “Yes. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told Harrah to wait. Do the test first thing tomorrow.”

My nod went almost unnoticed as the harried woman leaned back into her chair, black-covered arms crossed without consideration for the cold.

“The royal couple is coming in a few days.” She announced to a silent room. Bella’s puckered lips and wide eyes said this was the first time she had heard of this as well. “They meant to come before the battle here, but the pirates moved far sooner than anyone anticipated. By the time they arrive, they’ll be handing out commendations or negotiating releases. No. It will be the former.”

Her sharp chin stuck out in defiance. A confidence that didn’t extend to her green eyes. Palta had been a proud member of royalty since I had first seen her and that steady bulwark had largely held out. Now, she was rattled. The nervous shifting of the eyes and squeezing of her palms were left unhidden. Things that hadn’t even been present after the raid on the city and certainly not what she would have wanted the underlings at her command post to see. She continued staring into space until I coughed.

“We’ll line the harbor with so many pirate’s corpses that they’ll be embarrassing you at the feasts, gushing about their child’s accomplishments.” I offered with a lean back into my chair.

“Palta,” Bella said, leaning over the table to give her boss a concerned look.

The water scion sucked in her lips. Green eyes shifted to me, a bit lighter now. A cloud of mist escaped her mouth as she let loose a long breath.

“Right. I won’t burden our miracle plant scion with my wranglings. I’ll be sending more troops here, per Harrah’s request. You’ve earned her confidence and from what I’ve seen, you’re living up to it.”

With that, she got up from her chair. A good time as any to get my question in.

“Palta, how long do I have until they knock at my door?”

“Three days. Four if the weather delays them but I wouldn’t count on that happening.”

The idea that Harrah’s familiar could push them back had been discussed and quashed in my musings with the air scion yesterday. The enchantments on the ships were beneath the waves and it would leave the familiar too tired to keep up with its duties. Any additional time could be used to fashion more arrows and make wood armor, yet I could only play the cards I was handed and a day or two more didn’t seem to be one of them. It was still enough time for Cell to arrive, but it would be closer than I would have liked.

My esteemed guests got up from their seats, slight nods being the only farewell before they took their torch and vacated my home. The night was colder than the day, obvious yet still unbelievable to my already freezing body. A faint whiff of femininity still lingered on my bed from Gula’s time in it, but time had almost entirely wiped it away. Despite that, I managed to get up when the faintest rise of the sun was in the clouds above. After a quick wash, dry, and meal of minced chicken stew delivered from Palta’s kitchen, the worksite called me as I lowered the bridge out of the corner of the world belonging to me and me alone. Sporting a grey shirt, brown pants, and brown coat that matched my facewrap, winter blew over me with her typical enthusiasm.

Long lines of square stones were splayed out over the field of the same summoned rock, now sporting some wood pieces close to the kitchen. My struggle with mana back at the Diamond academy was almost trivial here. Given the lack of metal works and the near unlimited space, it was time that was the monster to slay for this project.

Walking alongside the artificial river, a wide array of cloth canopies came closer with every step toward the ocean-facing portion of my domain. The smoke of fires and sizzling of meats left no doubt as to the place's purpose if the white-aproned lads and girls running around with trays of cut vegables and mugs wasn’t enough of a clue. They all gave me some distance as my little caravan moved through, with some even getting in a proper bow as I approached the tables in front of the pots and ovens. The destination was the black-coated foreman from yesterday waiting at a table with the day’s work order. He handed off the page with a bow, the politeness slightly undone by the bit of unseen egg around the corner of his black mustache. It took several lines of ‘moving stone blocks up the wall’ before I arrived at a different item. The near metal hard wood arrows my crafts could make were in high demand, something I was going to focus on in the final day or two of preparations.

“See if Harrah is in the tower,” I instructed one of my guards, who did a light bow before walking away to the right.

The morning was still young, with most of the workers either coming in through the wall gate off in the distant left or getting breakfast. Moving through the gathering crowd with my escort cutting a path through was going to be the easiest part of my day. The large, near man-sized slabs of stone placed along the walls told of a day filled with toil and curses. It was after only getting two up onto the wall and taking a minute to look out over the ocean that the sound of something big moving came from above.

Turning to the main focus of my efforts, atop the large tower was the finger of the giant trebuchet swinging back from its first firing. A pang of irritation ran through me at the thought of not being present for the first swing. Harrah had been its designer, yet it was my magic and sweat that had made it possible. Consoling myself to being there the first time it drew blood, I looked down at the men below. Almost the entire camp had stopped with a sea of raised heads gazing up to the pole of wood sticking out of the top of the tower.

“It won’t do much good if we don’t get the defenses in place,” I yelled over the fresh silence.

Most dismissed my voice, save a few of the men who had committed the sound to memory and knew who was speaking. Here and there, the heads gradually turned back to their mortal works as panicked foremen started laying into them. Some of the men came up the stairs bearing thick wooden beams and boards.

“Right here,” I instructed with a nod to my right. Placing all the pieces in neat piles took but a moment, though the man directing them in a loose white shirt and wool coat seemed to think it was taking an eternity. Messy brown hair waved with his frantic arm motions for his men to move their burden into place. When one plank was accidentally dropped, his brown eyes went wide as saucers and despite the dreadful cold, a bead of sweat went down his forehead. Fear that subsided when I merely shrugged to the worker who quickly picked up his load and placed it with the rest.

“Will we be assembling the catapult, grand mage?” The director asked while the men waited around the pieces they brought up.

I shook my head.

“The wood is almost as hard as iron. Your nails and hammers aren’t going to do any good here. Go and see what else the overseer needs.”

He did a light bow before turning to his men with a waving hand motion. They all quickly filed down the stairs to leave me to my labor. Unlike most of what I had worked on so far, I alone had the expertise, precision, and magic to work on this project from beginning to end. It was a simple catapult, a good few feet higher than a man and sporting a large slab of stone as a counterweight. The toughness of the wood meant the wheels on the sides wouldn’t easily sheer off nor could the rope be easily cut.

Looking over the rest of the wall, I was treated to the sight of five other catapult sites waiting for me. Working alongside the men delivering the parts for my work were others bringing the arrows, rope, and bases for larger ballistae. Too large to hold but not full siege engines, these arrow chuckers were dotting the walls around the stone shields lining the edges to let men drop boulders down the sides without taking return fire.

The holes for archers were finally placed along the sides of the wall’s ocean-facing top, barrels of arrows were being filled, and balls of stone were getting loaded near the catapult sites. Here and there yet more slabs of stone were getting molded into supports and reinforcement for the walls with the workers plying away like ants making the nest whole. During the actual battle, it would be the guards doing almost all the work. For now, however, it was the peasants carrying the burden. As was I.

Speaking of the guards, the man I sent to check on Harrah finally came back around the time I had finished the fourth catapult. The tired-looking man in red leather armor approached from my left up the staircase with a bit lip.

“I know she’s not the tallest thing, but it shouldn’t have been that long to find her,” I announced as I put the counterweight on with a raised eyebrow.

“A thousand apologies, great mage.” He squeaked out with a bow of his red leather cap on his bald head. “The lady insisted on me waiting for me to report back after she and another mage finished some items.”

Fusing my burden in place, I looked over to him in clear expectation.

“She wanted to fix some problem or another. Lady Harrah now has full confidence in the machine’s ability. She also personally requested that some men head out with crafts to make a target. The trebuchet will swing again when she wants them to stop and make it.”

The fun part has come at last. Nodding to him, I motioned to the rest of my guard to follow me for my next task. Tired as he was, the messenger guard moved to follow before I shook my head.

“Rest. But do tell a passing foreman to start doing some tests with the catapults and getting things ready for the ballistae. The giant on the tower isn’t the only weapon we’ll be relying on.”

A glimmer of relief flickered in his brown eyes before he bowed and went to rest beside one of the stone slabs hanging around the back of the wall. My trip down the stairs was swift with the workers making their way off towards the tents serving as a kitchen and command post. Reaching the flat surface of the stone floor took less than a minute though it was only the start. Walking along the wall took a few more minutes in the freezing cold before I made it to the harbor gate.

The tall portcullis was currently open so that a few of the crafts on the outside sucking in mana could have their payload easily retrieved. Wooden platform stretched along the solid stone slab serving as the land of the harbor with the brown fingers reaching into the water. That snake of ocean went around through the back where enchantments on flat boards would push the water into the river channel. Two of the catapults could hit here and five of the ballistae would have good coverage, to say nothing of how clear the sight lines were for an archer.

Putting together some stone summoning crafts from a board pile to the left of the gate, I handed them off to a pair of laborers who were quickly escorted over the rocky plains by two of my guards. While I waited for the men to return, my mind went to the task that had brought me here. The proper soldiers I was being given were clad in metal pads for the arms or legs and helms, with leather chest pieces and no face guards. The regular guard and peasant mobs, who made up most of the fighting force, were all in leather and only some with short swords.

A part of me hoped that we could simply splat them all from afar, as was my personal preference. It was virtually impossible, however. The next best option was making sure we had enough arrows for the archers. Working with magic and its crafts for so long gave me a general sense of how much mana things cost and a rough guess told me the most efficient course was to make arrows with no strengthening.

After that, most of my resources and time would be devoted to making decent armor out of hardened wood. Fashioning so much armor wasn’t going to happen if I was the only one making it, leaving the blacksmiths for the task. Mentally going over the logistics, I was pulled out of my calculations by the familiar whoosh of air from the trebuchet. Out over the field of rock I saw a small stone spike rising out of the ground even if the men around it were barely discernable. After putting a dozen or so wood growing enchantments on planks and explaining how to use them to a team who would be overseeing their use, the trebuchet sounded off again. Looking up from the man leaning over the slowing shifting shaft of wood, I saw that it had thrown a piece of cargo this time.

A speck flew through the sky until it was well past the thrown-together structure. My group was too far away to hear the crunch when the dot hit the ground. A small hill suddenly appearing above the jagged stone was hard to miss, however. Counting off in my head, the hill lasted for four and a half seconds before it dissolved into nothingness.

Bella, being the only other mage who had an earth element and wasn’t useless, had been given the job of making the stone-summoning crafts that were going to be dropping boulders on the pirates’ heads. Her efforts appeared to have failed, though due to the catapult or her calculations was yet to be seen. My guards, however, were looking at the spot the hill had been with confused faces.

“Do you see something?” I asked the men as their comrades could be spotted coming from the plains.

One with a brown beard and grey eyes ahead of me turned around.

“No one said we would be using mage crafts as… rocks. How will they be retrieved, great mage? If you wouldn’t mind the question.”

I shrugged as I scanned the vast expanse of nothing in front of us for a second before returning to work.

“Aside from that one we just used? We aren’t. The barnacles and crabs will have them after they’ve done their job.”

A few of the surrounding heads jerked back while some looked me up and down like I was crazy.

“I had no idea that your greatness was so generous.” The guard to my right said with some admiration in his voice. A smirk came across my face as I turned back to the wall with the dying sun casting its faint light across the grey stone surface.

“Generosity is the willingness to do things that aren’t for your own good. In that way, hatred is its kin. Bella is the source this time, if you want to know who to thank for the crafts. Though my generosity will become more known the next two days.”

“It’s already more than well known,” A younger member put in a bit too enthusiastically. “Between those indoor farms and fishing trips, we’ve been able to get some decent meals.”

That human neediness for recognition and validation rose up in me again. Taking a moment to enjoy the praise, I coughed in my hand before moving towards the open gate.

“And if we survive the coming days, you can tell your grandkids all about it. For now, I’ve got a lot more work on the wall to do. Will you lot be changing shifts soon?”

One of the older men looked to the sky, taking in the falling sun with puckered lips.

“Just about, I believe lord.” He finally offered.

Our approach took us by the wooden crafts molding and growing bits of wood into arrows. An inquiring look to the group of men I had been instructing on the crafts was answered with nods. Content with that, I left the workers to place them by the blacksmiths. The wind was still occasionally slapping against my exposed skin and my fingers were starting to get stiff.

My little group took a slow walk up to the gate, maneuvering around the people bringing in stone blocks from the other wooden slab crafts that had been left out here. A soft wind came up from behind, seemingly giving us one last icy lash on the back. Not harshly enough to hide the sound of a scuffle breaking out above. Indistinct shouting could be heard over the breeze and the guards quickly moved closer to me even if we couldn’t see what was happening.

I moved a bit quicker under the wall near the portcullis while one of the guards ran ahead to see what was going on. The men were cluttered around me like a pack protecting the group's young. Shields were drawn up and swords pulled from sheaths, but I was still a bit too paranoid. Weaving a magic spell of brown mana, I encased myself in some stone to protect from any bolts to the head. After a few minutes, the guards we sent ahead came back.

“There was an incident above. Tilvor is to be interned at his home for the rest of the day by order of Kev.”

I raised an eyebrow at the name occasionally exchanged by the guards. The men seemed satisfied by the command and moved to keep the regular traffic out of the way. A slight buzz of adrenaline was running through my veins as we made our way across the stone floor to the oval house in the middle of the artificial river. Stomping steps interspersed with the blowing of wind as the house came closer.

Besides the bridge near my home's drawbridge was the guard house I had set up. It was made for two, or three if comfort was no object, yet there were twelve men coming across the wooden arch further to the right that allowed for main traffic over the river. Between the guard house and a few men outside, it was a number nearly a third larger than my typical escort.

“What’s going on?” I asked the newcomers.

An older guardsmen coughed as his companions took up positions around the only entrance to my home.

“There was an assassination attempt on you earlier. A poor showing, from what I heard, but an attempt all the same. Princess Palta is coming by to explain the changes to the operation but until then you are to stay in your home with her affirming Kev’s order.”

Well, they were bound to try eventually. A deep sigh escaped my lips, but I could only shrug as I turned to my house.

“Get me more planks for crafts and some blacksmiths or their apprentices if they’re too busy,” I commanded as my entourage changed for the first time today.

The cold day passed with the sun leaving at its usual time around midday. My meal of chicken stew came just after, this time accompanied by a member of the lion guard who asked to look around. After I accepted and he finished the inspection, royalty graced my abode once again. Palta arrived through the door in green and brown leather armor. That long black hair had been rolled into a bun, though there was so much to work with that she still had some in a ponytail. Her green eyes looked around in irritation even with her graceful stride across the room to the table stacked high with wooden crafts and planks yet to reach greatness.

“You seem to be holding up well despite the attempt on your life,” She offered with a plop into the seat opposite of me.

“The guard said it wasn’t a particularly close thing. All I heard was some yelling above before we huddled underneath the wall like chicks in the rain.” I said, not stopping my work on a small pole that would fit in a hand and allow for the manipulation of wood in a field around it. A piece for the blacksmiths who had yet to visit.

“They tried to drop a big rock on your head. Luckily, a guard saw them trying to lift one of the catapult’s blocks over the side of the wall and promptly brought the anger of the men down on them.” She mused with a lean back into her chair.

“A poor showing. If they were serious about killing me.”

Her black eyebrow raised with a pucker of her lips.

“Oh?”

“Time is everything now. I’m sure they would have loved to kill me, but between the guards and inspections for weapons… that almost certainly isn’t happening. The next best thing is to keep me from working. Whether by injury or fear, as long as I’m not grinding away on the defenses, they can take this place all the easier and silence the trebuchet keeping them from Crasden. Speaking of, how are the chronically useless doing?” I asked as I traced a manipulation triangle on the pole.

Her lips thinned for a moment, rounding out a face that wanted to scold me yet the tiredness in those green pools wouldn’t let the correction come.

“Same as when you left. A lot of wrangling and moaning from people who’ve not worked a day in their lives. Not a true, back-crunching day, at least. But we are here” A manicured finger was put down towards the table “And it is the situation here that requires amending. My guess is you are correct in the spies thinking. Their undoing, however, is that your task is already done.”

Lifting my head, I put down the pole and regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

“How so? I’m pretty sure I didn’t give that order.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Palta leaned a bit forward, resting her elbows on the table as she clasped her hands together.

“The walls are sturdy. Barrels are filling with arrows and if the crafts in harbor are making what I think they are, we’ll have enough to hear the twang of bows for days. Harrah says the murder holes in the stone shields along the top are more than we have on the walls of Crasden and most other cities besides. What do you have left?”

“Encasing the top in a wooden layer that’s been hardened to that of iron along with some outer stone to protect from arrows, molding the front of the walls to allow for the rolling of stone balls down the sides, fashioning some hard wooden armor for the men is going to be something I’ll see to on the last day.”

Palta gave me a small smile even though her eyes had some sadness in them.

“An ambitious list. Never to be realized sadly.” She did a swipe across the table to brush away some dust before letting loose a breath. “Harrah’s familiar has brought back news of the fleet. It’s going to be here later tomorrow. They either have dozens of water casters or a few scions who've sped them along.”

A list of questions presented themselves and it took but a moment to decide that none of them were worth asking. Getting up from the chair in a single thrust saw my knee bang against a wooden leg. Allowing myself only a single wince, I sprinted out of the room and onto the small stone ledge with the bridge. The smack of footsteps behind me was barely noticed as I ripped out pieces of my plans with that special pain only lovers of their craft could understand.

The men in lion-shaped helmets and capes across the bridge stood in a tight ball near the entrance with rather disdainful looks to the red-leathered guards. Any tension between the two groups melted when they turned to see their charges sprinting over the bridge.

“Get the overseer! Tell him to start getting the pots of pitch ready. Inform the smiths that we need to focus on making more ballistae.”

One guard ran off to the left to deliver the message.

“I already told them and Harrah.” Palta offered behind me as we approached the field of summoning stone enchantments.

The workers lugging a block nearby were a bit confused as I pushed the white circle of one vacant specimen before turning it over. I locked eyes with their foreman a few steps closer to me.

“Drop that block and go around pressing the white circles on the boards. Tell everyone who asks that the plant scion said to because the attack is coming later tomorrow.”

That got a few pale faces, with some concerned glances between the men. They were well aware that they were being given a direct order from their mage superior and that kept them from idling for more than a second before the foremen scattered them about. Running my hands over the bare side of the board, I began sucking in mana with which I plied circles, squares, and triangles into the wood. Sadly, I couldn’t just start twisting all the furniture into chest and shoulder pieces as only certain woods would get stronger with being fed plant spells while others would grow spikes or become as flexible as paper.

“Fetch me some of the growing arrows. I need a pail of white paint and a brush.” I called with a cloud of breath flowing over the wooden plank and my brown jacket. More steps on the stone came from behind me, a quick look back giving me a look of Palta.

“Is there anything I can do?” She asked with some brittleness in her voice, more from the cold than her irritation.

“Help me turn off the stone crafts. Hardening wood into steel takes a lot more mana than summoning stone. I’ll make a few crafts to mold and grow wood into armor. Once the smiths get them into the right shape, the pieces will then be put on other crafts to harden them.”

“Don’t we need this stone?” She asked even as she walked past me and pressed the white circles on the board a few feet away from my left.

“No,” I refuted as I put down the press square to start the craft. Looking behind me, there was a rather nervous-looking boy bringing the requested pail even as bits of the white paint stained his brown pants with every step. “Any ongoing developments to the wall will be a half-finished abortion at this point. I’ve got to put everything in the armor and get the siege engines on the back wall finished.”

The lad finally came up to me with a plop of the bucket down beside me and a slight bow as he held out a brush.

“Good man.” I complimented the boy before taking his burden from him. My mind focused on painting a circle around the middle of the glowing triangle at the boards center and the upper square at the right corner, resuming my conversation as I did so. “We’ll cannibalize the wall addon’s stone for catapult ammunition and tossing on the pirate’s heads. Right now, I need to start the process of getting the armor crafts ready because I know no matter how easy I make it they’ll have questions on how to work it. I’ll make a few wooden sword and spear crafts too for the regular men. Those should be the easiest to make.”

The water scion was a bit further away now, with her yell carrying over the light breeze.

“Okay, but do try to pace yourself. We need you to be in fighting shape.”

Winter’s cold continued pounding me and the workers for the rest of the day. The falling of the sun around midday took away the only meager heat found this far north. Despite that, the men worked at a hard pace even when the wind slapped away whatever warmth accumulated on their skin. The ballistae were small enough that they could be made without the use of magic. The same could not be said for the catapults, which was the only thing I could get done after completing a few dozen of the wood enchantments.

Magical crafts could make the guts and frames of the larger siege engines, but it would have taken far too long to explain how to properly fuse the joints and pieces to the peasants on the previous timescale and certainly not on the death run this project had turned into. Carts of pitch-filled barrels began arriving from the city before being placed by the entrance into the main wall, the line of which I sat on the left side of. My work of putting together the third catapult for the unguarded land-side wall was competing for time instructing the poor smiths around me who were trying to work the magical tools on a wooden chest piece in faint torchlight.

Standing over the two V-shaped pieces of wood, my board sucked in the flickers of gold and blue mana around me before I began applying the area of effect for the growth to the needed joint. A squad of men in heavy coats took up the freezing wood with bare hands to place the latest addition to the defenses at one the designated spots. My labor for placing enchantments was demanded again as another board for wood hardening was placed in front of me. As I sucked in the gold and blue mana, the dreaded sensation made itself known.

Faint, hair-thin, lines of pain broke out over my skin from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet like an annoying scratch. Experience told of what agony awaited me if I continued pushing things, making me quickly finish the spell’s work. Once my finger finished working over the board, I looked around at the men working the wood crafts. They were the last batch of smiths and any more armor fashioning enchantments would be bottlenecked by manpower. That meant spell work was officially done for the night even if I felt like I had an hour or two more of regular work in me before the bed beckoned.

Sadly, I couldn’t pull armor-smithing skills out of my ass like I had architecture. Configuring armor took knowledge that my time in the wilds wouldn’t have demanded I know, and I absolutely couldn’t have picked it up in my time here. Taking up the craft after this mess would be a good jumping point for my ‘art’ phase in the future where I would suddenly start buying up exotic materials for my work, but, for now, I only had the skills to make buildings, which were useless for the tasks left to do.

“Do you feel like you can work these crafts?” I asked the men with thick coats leaning over various boards with wooden pieces.

“It’s far easier than working metal, lord. I could finish up a good set in an hour.” One said with appropriate enthusiasm. The sentiment was backed up with a series of nods from the rest. Leaving them to their work, I left the torch-lit line of carriages towards my home further across the wide open field of smooth stone.

Men passed by in the torchlight, burdened with large pitchers of black tar destined for the top of the walls. Off in the distance, I could see more torches along the walls with ballistae in varying stages of construction caught in the orange bloom. All the widely spaced flames meant it was easy to see the strong breeze coming over the wall. I grit my teeth and cursed nature before the whoosh of air finally rolled to my spot.

It was greeted by a string of curses from the guards, who pulled their coats closer and pushed their scarves closer to the skin. The trip back to the house was made a bit more excruciating with nature giving me one last slap in the face, yet the human spirit would not be denied. My shoes clapped across the icy stone and eventually, wood as our group made it over the bridge. Rushing water ambled below me as we crossed and to my right as we moved towards the barely seen home in the river.

On my way to the guard house, I saw a man in a thick coat talking to the guards for a moment before running off. I walked up to the man, breathing out clouds of mist into the wind as I did so. He quickly spotted me and ran forward before leaning in close.

“Lady Harrah requests your presence at the top of the tower first thing in the morning after being readied for the day.”

I nodded as I moved past him and towards the bridge leading into my home. Retiring to my bed took only a quick walk over the drawbridge into my house and a small washing up with cold rags. I stumbled through the dark door leading into my room and fell into my bed with a flop and slither in the blankets. The realization that Cell would be too late in coming occureed to some faint corner of my exhausted mind before oblivion took it.

The sudden awakening into a brisk morning chill, contrary to expectation, came without a panicked Palta barging in or a messenger boy’s terrified yells. Stretching away the night’s stiffness didn’t distract me from the sound of footsteps out in the kitchen. The noises were accompanied by vaguely feminine voices of what my slowly stirring mind said was the maids even if the words could not be distinguished.

That morning feeling of grunginess covered me and the dreaded feeling of what awaited me later today started creeping through the morning sluggishness. Still, work needed to be done and too much of it couldn’t be done without my plant magic. The sheets were pushed aside and I got up with a turn on the bed to face the wall opposite of me.

God.

I immediately regretted every decision l had ever made up to this point as the cold rock stole whatever warmth could be found on my soles. The worst was over, at least. I abandoned the bed, donned my boots, and moved to the door. My bedroom entry was thrown open with the grand view of an equally cold, grey stone hallway beyond. I took a left and opened the next door leading into the kitchen and dining area.

Two women in maids’ outfits were sweeping dirt and dust with a steaming tub of water in the center of the room and a fresh brown coat on the right chair.

“The breakfast will be coming from the tower soon, grand mage. If the water is too cold or not enough, just let us know.” The brunette working a broom near the entrance. A smaller black-haired woman near the dining table was placing a few towels down for my personal use. Besides the mound of fluffy white cloth was a change of a white shirt and grey pants for me.

“It is. Though, it is the lack of eyes that I need.” I politely offered as I approached the table.

Both pairs of brown eyes looked at each other.

“Will… Do you desire assistance in the bathing, great mage?” The petite, black-haired woman asked, taking a look at the joining of my legs a second past what could be accepted as an accident.

“No,” I replied firmly.

They both bowed at that, promptly moving towards the exit on the right. I was quickly left alone in the stone cave I had made semi-livable. A quick wash in the warm water with a drying of the towels took up a few minutes followed by a trip to the toilet near the end of the hallway. Enough time for the big kettle of shredded chicken soup to arrive, it turns out. The pot was placed on the table and my portion ladled out in a bowl. The bald man in a white apron and shirt did a slight bow before taking a step back as I took up my breakfast with a cup of water.

“Her highness asked me to inquire into your present state. The princess had some concern about the great mage pushing himself beyond his limits.”

A smirk stole over my face as I put a spoon in the spicy, brown liquid with white strands of meat.

“My joints aren’t that worn from age. Not yet, anyway. Tell her I’ll be seeing to the tower and getting ready for our afternoon excursion.”

He did another deep bow, placing a jug to my right as he did so. Knowing enough of my inclinations, the cook quickly vacated my home without staying to personally pour my water or attend to me. The solitude was a nice break compared to the constant pecking of needy foremen and an ever-growing list of needed items. If I lied hard enough to myself, I could even call the freezing air bracing.

I washed the delusion down with the last of the soup.

A quick walk through the room brought me to the entrance, picking up the prepared brown coat as I did so. My eyes took in the wooden contours of the door while I put on the jacket then my hand found the handle too soon. Taking one final breath, I consigned my morning rest to oblivion before pulling. Bitter cold continued nipping at my exposed skin, yet the wind was nowhere to be seen. Clouds of mist came out of the men standing at the opposite side of the wooden drawbridge just as they did from the workers lifting various wooden pieces from boards sucking up mana in the field beyond.

My men got in a tight circle around me as I came across the bridge. The first impulse was to go to the work camp and start taking up orders from the foremen. Sadly, it was the tower that was going to be the cage I spent the rest of the day in. The workers here were all present before the pirates started butchering their way this far north and were assumed to be safe. Besides showing how long-term the bandit's knowledge I had gleaned from conversing with the workers also revealed that there was no official census.

As long as the taxes on properties and sales were paid, you weren’t a wanted criminal, and you didn’t have much interest in the government’s secrets, not much attention was paid to the magicless peasantry. I would have thought that having all of humanity holed up in chokingly tight enclaves would make such tasks simple, but that was not the item of interest for the day.

The men in wooden armor around the entrance stood a bit straighter as I went past them. I pushed open the double doors into the giant stone beast. Standing alongside the left wall were two of the blacksmiths, between which was a table with a full suit of wooden armor.

“Great mage, it is time for your fitting.” The pudgier one on the left said.

I came up to the wooden pieces before the men started fitting the leather straps along the inner sides of the pieces. In my time working with them, I determined the smiths to be competent, though their spark of creativity was rather damp. Something exemplified by the blockish helmet and plain armor. Save for the material, it looked like a clone of the troop’s pieces.

My body was soon wrapped around that beloved material with some space between the joints. A few paddings of soft plant fibers would be needed at a few spots, but it was all perfectly functional otherwise. The craftsmen bowed when I nodded and headed to the open elevator waiting for me on the floor. The guards, having done their typical inspection as I was donning my armor, huddled around me as we ascended to the heights above with only a few streaks of light meeting us halfway.

The platform eventually came up and I disembarked onto it. The wide wood floor now sported a few blankets in addition to the bits of food on the left, a few stacks of wooden balls directly opposite, and now empty buckets of human waste. The right side was taken up by the huge boulder, thankfully still in the same position as always. One of the guards insisted on going up the ladder before me, which I promptly followed once I was given the clear. Seeing as how I hadn’t heard the snap of ropes accompanying a panicked scream, I expected a fully function machine of death when I made it up the ladder and, despite the record of dashed hopes that had defined my time in these lands, I was greeted with a large swing of the pole above the big wooden block.

Off to the right was Harrah, her black twin pigtails swaying with the swaying of her hands as she directed the men in thick black coats shifting the giant wooden beast around further along to the left. Beside her was a pile of wooden balls being looked over by Bella. The earth caster’s shoulder-length brown hair shifted as her hands worked over one of the pieces of ammunition, her thin nose now red. Both the women wore the same black coats over the leather of green and brown they arrived in.

“Any trouble getting her to work?”

Harrah turned around with a smile pulling at her stubby chin and smooth cheek bones.

“None. She worked just fine all day yesterday and we’re going to do another test before giving her my seal of approval.”

A small, grumpy huff came from Bella to the right.

“I’d say it’s been mighty effective, using crafts for trebuchet ammo. But I won’t. I have the distinct feeling that the slaver’s whip will be on my back for the rest of my life if I give her any ideas.”

The smaller black-haired woman rolled her blue eyes before turning back towards the men. A moment of silence went by before the air scion spoke out.

“Enough!” She called before looking towards the man near the lever on the side that would fire the mighty pole arm. “All right. Let’s see how you do.”

The black-coated men moved in a flurry, taking one of the balls and placing it in the sling. A moment of hesitation passed before the man at the lever nodded to the one who placed the craft. When the smack of a palm on a white circle rang out, the lever was thrown forward and the rush of air below told of a large movement of mass.

Turbulent air only grew as the arm of the wooden beast swung forward, launching its payload through the air. A speck traveled through the cloudy white sky before a mass of stone formed and crashed into a mass of jagged stone beyond the walls with a sharp crack that I could almost hear even up here. Despite the destruction, it was the cough from Harrah that drew the men’s attention.

“Was that on target and appropriately timed?” She asked the bald man who was apparently third in command here.

“A bit to the left and a second or so passed when I wanted it to go off.”

“Or so?” Harrah asked with a significant raise of her eyebrow. “Or so can be a huge amount of time when dealing with trebuchets and crafts. I’d tell you to practice more but our magic isn’t so easily spent. That’s all for now.”

He gave a bow, as did most of the men who just seemed grateful to be out from under the gazes of three mages. When the last of them were gone, I turned towards Bella who was still leaning over one of the summoning balls.

“How has the crafting been going?”

A puckering of her lips followed her hand running a square over the white-painted circle facing her.

“Exhausting. Though I don’t need to tell you that.” She offered, her brown eyes looking up to meet mine. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare pieces about?”

The question was accentuated with a dramatic rise from the spot she had been at.

“Plenty. Go to the smithy area to get suited up. If they have any left over from the troops.”

Both raised their eyebrows at that while I moved to the ocean-facing side of the rails. Harrah immediately ran over to the side of the tower while Bella staggered onward with numb legs beside me. Looking down at the men working all over the walls, I couldn’t help but notice how many of the indistinct dots had the color of brown wood around them.

“You really fashioned armor for all those men?” Bella asked with a raise of all our heads from the sight below, her voice askance and lips puckered.

“I fashioned crafts for the smiths to do so and harden them to near metal toughness. So, yes and no.”

“What agreement do you have with the smiths? It must not have been easy to find men who could merit such an opportunity.” The earth crafter asked. Harrah turned to look at me, black eyebrows raised to affirm her friend’s question.

“Their merit is they know how to fashion a chest plate.”

“And keeping track of the tools?”

I could only shrug.

“Time is a resource I don’t have… time to waste. If they lose one, break another, or want to keep a wooden pole for a priceless family heirloom, that’s too bad for me then.”

A frown stole over Bella’s face, pulling her chin with it.

“You know, I always considered myself the one to do the dirty jobs. The ones the great and revered mages of the associations wouldn’t dare touch. But some pride is still bouncing around in my head. Your magic… how can you be okay with just throwing it out to the peasants like that?”

I leaned against the parapet with another shrug.

“Maybe if you made crafts for the regular men, you’d have an easier time with the Orcs out on the plains.”

Harrah got a frown at that, with both women now looking very put off at the idea.

“And risk my magic being touched by the green filth? Give me a quick slice across the throat before seeing that day.”

The nod from the air mage sealed my defeat. Putting up my hands in supplication, I could only pull back towards the ladder leading to the slightly warmer indoors. They followed me down and took off towards the right when we arrived. Instead of stopping to chat, the women quickly vacated the floor to follow the guards down the elevator.

As violent as the afternoon was going to be, the battle was too close for hard labor and yet too far away to get on with it. Taking a bit of unused wood from the crafts folding the wood into balls along the wall, I spent what felt like a half hour molding a wooden sword. The long slice of wood was gradually sharpened into an arm-length blade with a decently sharp edge. Not razor thin, but it had enough bite to cut leather and the skin beneath. With boulders to answer any metal armor, I started working on the contours of the handle.

Which was when a flash of white and green flew past. A raise of the blade proved needless as my eyes comprehended the shape of Harrah’s moth familiar hovering above the elevator rope, though it was a bit slimmer than its wild cousins. They took only a moment before diving below out of sight. I was content to continue in my work until I faintly heard Harrah shouting from below. Her words were indistinct, but their cadence was one of panic. I got up to pull the rope to bring the elevator to my level, something one of the people already did.

It was a small eternity of waiting as the slab of wood came up and the yells gradually stopped. A tentative look over the railing didn’t give me any indication of attack from the specks on the floor nor did the guards coming up appear battered. Light splashed from the morning sun over the floor below with the opening of the door to the outside. Zigget was flying back up towards me, his color palette obscured in the light until he zipped past the elevator and landed on my outstretched arm. A spirit connection quickly followed across my face.

Images of fire in bushes and charred scars of bark filled my vision accompanying a feeling of panic. And barrels in various states of destruction or flying in the air to their doom. A moment passed when the familiar collected itself to present the full image. Across the sea-struck coast were five ships equipped with large catapults lobbing man-sized barrels crashing various powders and attached torches leaving scorched blazes wherever they landed among the bushes and retreated trees. The visage suddenly gave way to the wider sky above the land, now filled with swirling black smoke and flecks of ember.

The clank of the guards arriving interrupted the scene with a flurry of voices trying to speak at once. I put up a hand to stop the oncoming cascade as I pushed through them onto the platform. Without a sound, one of them pulled the rope activating the craft to lower the wooden abode. Heavy breathing surrounded the soundscape as we descended to the lower floor until the smack of wood on stone rang out and we exited the box.

The smiths were fitting wooden plates over Harrah on the right, fastening the leather straps of shoulder guards on the woman while ones for the legs and shoulders waited for their turn on the table behind them.

“Zigget gave me the gist of it. They’re trying to draw the devourer here?”

A wave of black pigtails followed her nod.

“If I had to guess? Yeah, and we don’t have the time to get any troops out to deal with it. Palta wants to use a small team of you, me, and her to put an end to it.”

A sudden swing of the doors further ahead revealed a frowning Bella. The brunette's eyebrows were furrowed with a curl of her lips while her hands gripped the wood with fervor.

“Was that… did I hear correctly? The pirates are creating a line of fire and smoke to draw the Devourer here?”

“Aye,” I responded, moving forward to take a spare chair that had been pushed up against the wall. Taking my seat near the table, I resumed my work on the wooden blade. “Were you aware that they were using the same tactics on the villages they destroyed?”

Both the women nodded without hesitation, though their confident looks only contrasted with the now pale faces of the smiths working around them.

“It’s unprecedented.” Bella scoffed in irritation mixed with worry. “Not provoking King Beasts has been a hard rule for ages.”

Running my eyes over the wooden blade, feeling that wonderous material with my palm as I did so, I took a deep breath before releasing a cloud from my lips that seeped around the cloth head wrap.

“If it came down to it, would the kingdom survive a fight with the Devourer? Or other such beasts?”

Harrah gave me a non-committal shrug, to some irritation from the smith-made-tailor trying to fix the leather straps of her shoulder guard.

“We don’t know.”

A look up from the sword to the air scion made her bite her lips for a moment before shrugging again.

“I could bore you with soldier figures and potential terrain issues, but it’s all might-bes, coulds, and ifs. We’ve never had to actually fight a King Beast before, so no one knows for sure. Which is why not provoking them has always been an unwritten treaty.”

“Do we know if the Devourer considers its territory close enough to respond to the pirate’s provocation?”

Bella responded this time as a shin guard was fastened to her left leg over the green and brown leather armor.

“Did we ever antagonize the monster to see if it would come here? No. The territory of a King Beast has fuzzy edges. But with it not having any competition this far north…”

“And the previous incidents already aggravating it…” I put in with a tired sigh.

Neither woman responded to the now obvious implication of the pirate's actions these past weeks. Armed with the level of information I typically got from this world, I got up from my seat with a small heft of the perfectly adequate wood sword now hardened to steel with a softer handle. We waited for a precious few minutes to get the order from on high.

When the doors finally flew open again, it was royalty itself that came through. This time she sported shiny steel armor over her brown and green leather. It was thinner than the men’s, yet the cheek guards and intermeshing plates seemed sturdy enough. Down the back of her neck was a wave of freshly cut black hair. Though not as dramatic as her turns with the full mane, the princess’s turn towards the upper floor still allowed for a swish of those shoulder-length locks.

“Is it done?” She asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” Harrah said to her right, now standing at full attention. Friends gave way to a leader and her followers. Bella likewise came up to the left. “Fully stocked and ready to kill.”

“Do you or Tilvor have to be here to operate it?” Palta asked. Bella did a light cough before answering.

“I can make the ammunition. The men have gotten some practice in, though they don’t quite have the eye for it Harrah does.”

The princess turned her green eyes on me.

“Can I assume this all won’t hold up to the Devourer?”

I shook my head.

“Not that big worm, no. Can’t say anything I could build would. But he isn’t the only problem. What if the scions try for an aerial attack? No flying water familiars could bring it down, but they could disable the catapult.”

“Nothing in Crasden is worth a scion losing their companion, much less their own lives.” Harrah refuted with certainty in her voice. “They’ll help get the ships here and maybe, use a few spells to move things along. But Crasden isn’t a significant source of magical resources even during the harvest. We need this place to keep the noose from closing. Independent or pirate mages aren’t as invested.”

With that, Palta turned to the brunette to the left.

“Even if they do… Zigget is the only one who can give us the bird’s eye view we need. Bella. Station a squad of crossbowmen up top. That might be enough that the scion won’t risk it. Get the men ready. You’ll be in charge until we come back. Pack as many people as you can on the escape ships to prepare to take off if the monster comes and hold out only as long as needed. Don’t be the hero.”

The earth caster bit her lip at that, something that seemed to irritate Palta as black eyebrows furrowed and her regal lips puckered.

“We had an agreement, Bella. Can I trust you to hold to that agreement?”

A hard test of wills came before the brunette looked down.

“Kill enough to make my family proud.” Was all Bella said before turning around and heading to the elevator. Palta then looked at me, those green pools showing the storm inside even if the face on it remained unmoved.

“It looks like you’ll be going.” She said, trying to not sound too hopeful.

“A good crossbow and I will be.”

The water scion took a moment, letting loose a small breath while her shoulders relaxed. A second passed as I heard a growing chorus of work from the camp beyond the door.

“I have no intentions of being worm-food.” She declared, turning around to leave the tower with us following like ducklings. A strong gust of wind blew over us, almost smothering her next words. “We need to stop the ships first. Can we use your boat?”

“It will have enough room in a technical sense. Some may talk if they saw how close I was to the royal princess, but it will get us there fast enough to not have the rumors being spread inside the Devourers belly.”

Harrah giggled as we turned left towards the harbor. A small smile stole over Palta’s face, but she said nothing else during our trek over the stone floor to the portcullis. Along the way a courier delivered the crossbow and a pack of bolts. Our poor guards, of both the orc-mating and feline-appropriating variety were keeping ahead until the gate was opened and we went through to the dock. An almost hard run across the wooden planks followed until we reached the dock where the large single piece of wood I had arrived in was within arm’s reach. Even the mighty lion guard was looking nervous now as I pried open the hatch with the chair and panels showing below.

A few looked down curiously, with Harrah leaning over to get a good view. Palta showed no hesitation as she jumped down into the dark hold. A quick look at the almost alien controls made her immediately shift to the back, with Harrah similarly surrendering at the sight of the weird panels.

The lion guards were fit to have a panic attack while those of with green wives were only as nervous as could be expected when the only means of survival was potentially getting reduced to paste. When I had gotten situated into the chair, Palta leaned over me with a hand outstretched.

“I relieve you of your obligation to me for the duration of my trip. If any should doubt your tale-“ She emphasized the last word with a dramatic flourish of her right hand towards the unseen Crasden “I already informed my servants of my intentions here. Go, and make sure to guard Bella with the same zeal as you did me.”

The tension lessened for a brief moment before Palta brought the hatch down leaving only narrow slits for my vision. I ran my fingers over the panels to start a small push in the water, shifting around the pier towards the open lane of the water leading in from the ocean. The endless sea beyond my left called and I took up the offer with an increase of speed into the ocean. A pair of slight gulps followed the ride up the first wave. Despite how serious the situation was, I couldn’t keep a comment off my tongue.

“You are a water scion, if I remember. I would have thought you were used to dealing with water-bound travel.”

Her snort reverberated in my right ear.

“Not at this pace. And certainly not with so little cushioning.”

Speed was certainly a big feature of the long blade-like boat. Light filtering through the sight lines around the top of the ship showed a coast on the right blowing past as I brought the ship up to its proper sprint.

“What about… Pipkin?” I asked as the name finally came back to me.

“My familiar? Yes. They’re…”

I chanced a look behind me, seeing a somewhat confused Palta scrunching her sharp nose.

“They’re near the front of the ship… I can’t say for sure, but I think they’re using your boat's speed to cut through the water with greater ease.”

“And Zigget?”

“They’re above us. We’re still a good jaunt away.” Came the response from my left. After a few seconds, the petite woman spoke up again.

“Hmm…”

“Yes?” I asked Harrah.

“There are seven ships heading to Crasden. We’re going to smash five hanging around the coast.”

“How close to shore are the seven?” I asked, picking up a note of wariness in her voice.

“Not anywhere close enough to be a concern. The fleet Zigget first saw was fifteen strong and they haven’t spotted the other three anywhere.”

I decided not to waste my breath on the obvious question, instead opting to continue making sure I didn’t dash my boat on some rocky outcropping. More silence passed, with only the occasional smack of water and gust of wind to interrupt the spirit connection conversation no doubt happening behind me. The trip continued for a few minutes in relative silence before Palta spoke up again.

“We know of no method of concealment they could have used. They most likely left in a very different direction. Probably to the Kraton house. Wherever they’ve gone, they’re not in the battle ahead of us. Any preferences for our opening gambit?”

A small mountain being summoned on top of the ships seemed like a strong opening move, but this was not a sprint. Summoning any amount of stone larger than a carriage would probably be too much of a strain. If sheer mass wasn’t advisable, then the boulders would need added momentum.

“Harrah, how high could your magic lift me?”

“Um…” The voice behind me struggled with the question for a moment before answering. “Yes. I’ve had to take a few people out of dangerous spots. Thinking of flying over them to drop some boulders?”

“I’ve done a lot with my magic over the years but I can’t swim in the water like a fish… or otter.” I finished with a pointed look ahead to where the princess’s familiar supposedly was. “How likely are we to run into any fellow mages?”

“Not many mages or leaders would be willing to send our kind on forays as dangerous as this. But considering they might catch a member of the royal family… We’re the weaker party if they have three scions, as unlikely as that is.” Palta put in. “Pipkin will have to come on land in case there are any and we’re down a familiar if the numbers are equal.”

“Killing them is secondary.” I reminded her. “We need to crush their catapults. A surprise blow on three of them will mean we only need to slog it out with two of the ships. The air element, however, is built for more general destruction and probably won’t do as well here. Do you think you’ll be able to take out a ship with just Pipkin if I worked with Harrah?”

“Yes.”

The lack of hesitance helped soothe my nerves even if the situation didn’t merit the balm. Time slipped away among the salty spray of the seas and the occasional sound of armor smacking against the wooden walls. As we neared a bend in the land, a hand pressed down on my left shoulder.

“We’re close,” Harrah announced.

I nodded to my panels as I took the ship into a gentle right turn. The waves gave our boat one last gentle shove as the beach came up with a soft crush of sand.

“Ahh,” Harrah announced with a slight groan as I heard her getting up behind me.

Palta immediately went to the hatch and lifted it without ceremony. Faint grey light filtered in from the now-open sky. I got out of my seat with a heft of my numb legs. A second was spent gracelessly trying to get out onto the boat's top with limbs that didn’t want to coordinate. Success eventually came with a plop of my boots into the sand and a heft of my crossbow. The women followed in short order. Harrah did an exaggerated stretch while Palta turned toward the waves.

A bulge in the water came up to the boat, showing an indistinct black figure. One splash followed two claws reaching out of the water and the white-furred face of a horse-sized otter. Getting a proper look at it this time, the face was a bit slimmer than its mundane cousins and the teeth had an almost metallic sheen to them. Deep amber eyes took in the boat for a second before it ambled forward to rub against its scion’s leg. Something Palta rewarded with an affectionate rub behind the ears. She turned towards the fields of bark scars and huge bushes with a tired sigh.

“Tilvor, we’ll have you take the lead,” Palta announced.

I nodded, leading the three toward the line of bushes and bark scars. Right as my foot hit the first bit of grassy mud, the branches sprang out to cover me while the carpet of smooth grass went to wrap around the offending boot. A quick plant spell to suck the life out of them saw to nature’s complaint as the surrounding greenery shrunk back. Those few bits not quick enough to evade the spell gave sharp crunches before crumbling to the ground.

Whatever acuity the magical plants had didn’t seem to extend to any kind of hive mind as some sporting shrub or weed would occasionally hold up the passage through. This continued with the occasional new direction from Harrah. The notion of leaving a huge scar of withered forest in the land was becoming less intrusive thought and more idle planning when the first whiff of smoke came. A maneuver around one boulder saw the first speck of black ash fall through the air. The lone agent was quickly joined by its peers as a small cascade of ember and ash started falling from the heavens, a grey and blue sky that now had streaks of black, some of which fell to mix with the patches of snow that had survived the churning of the plants.

“To the left.” Harrah suddenly announced as we moved between two bushes.

I followed the command with a turn through the shrubs. Despite the lack of trees, I still struggled to see any decent distance past the huge bushes and large boulders. After sucking the life out of one particularly determined bramble, the open sea could be glimpsed far ahead between some of the large plumes of leaves. A small walk also brought the sound of shouts further to the right. Too indistinct to make out aside from the rough tones therein.

We were almost near the shore when a loud whoosh of air came overhead. I looked up to see three barrels streak through the sky. A few quick guesses gave me a rough idea of where the ships were. My black-haired companions gave me a pair of nods with a look to the right. Our walk took us around a gaggle of shrubs with the puncture of crushing wood and the crackle of flame far behind. Through the thicket was a line of five ships hanging just outside the rocky cropping of the shore. Their sheen of copper hulls and the odd spikes with fire, metal, and wood on the ends jutting out of the sides identified them as our target.

“I’ll take on the leftmost ship.” Palta offered from somewhere to the left.

I nodded before looking at the petite air scion on my right.

“Let me strike first since my magic will take the longest to land. Take the one to the left of mine. We’ll take the two in the back and work our way to the center.”

Her sharp chin went tight with a bit lip. The face clashed with her nod of agreement, the latter of which I accepted. Our duo pushed further to the right, making sure we stayed behind a bush or boulder as we did so. Despite the loud sucking of mud mixed with bits of ice, no alarm rang out from the enemy even as we came up to the last ship in the small fleet.

“Are you ready?” I asked with a turn to my companion behind me, making sure to keep hidden behind a moss covered rock.

“Are you?” Harrah asked, raising a black eyebrow under her wooden helmet. “Flight isn’t like making a big jump. Keeping you generally upward is about all I can hope for.”

The amount of reasons why I would be fine would be too long to state here, but I settled on the one easiest to explain.

“I just need to drop them in the general direction of the ship. What about your spell work? Think you’ll be able to summon a good gust for the second ship? I don’t want us staying out in the open on the landing.”

Harrah’s back straightened at that. Those smooth cheekbones showed scrunched skin with her smug smile.

“Zigget will make up for any lack of mine. Have no worries there.”

That reminded me to get some nuts later. Cell’s assistance was going to arrive far too late, but the trip still merited some compensation and there was no other currency I could think to give him. A cough from Harrah made me turn to the left.

“We haven’t known each other for long, but before either of us takes a bolt through the eye, I just wanted to say it was great making the tower with you.”

“Likewise. I think Harrah’s Thumb would be a good name.” I offered.

A smile stole over the small woman’s face that faded as she looked towards the ship.

“They’re loading the catapults.”

Turning around, I could see a two-man team working a large barrel between them up the stairs on the right side of the ship.

“Might as well see if we can start our own fire. Let me suck some life out of the local shrubbery to make sure we have a smooth takeoff.”

A lack of response was taken as affirmation, and I started making the spell to drain the large bushes. When it went off, Harrah started forming a large green construct that I had to take special care to not look over lest a certain question be asked. For a moment, we stood in silence while a brown wave of death rolled through the bushes next to us.

The only warning I got was a small hug from behind before the spell went off. A whirl of brown leaves quickly gave way to an open sky with a sea beyond and a line of copper-covered ships directly ahead. My eyes adjusted to the vertigo before they went to the general direction of the target. Which was when a hard blast forward sent us careening toward the ocean. Chill winter wind scoured through my wooden helmet, taking with it the warmth on my skin and any hearing I may have had. It took a second to line things up before I could create a spell for a crude block of stone.

An array of brown mana flowed from my mouth to form a large triangle. A crude spell designed for the large, jagged boulder materializing out of the nothingness in front of it. The task wasn’t finished as the rock slipped into reality and fell below, however. Another spell of the same design was spun up with its own payload. Then another.

The tip of the ship’s mast zipped by in a blur with an indistinct curse from some scout cutting through the blast of wind. Neither the wind nor profanity could block the loud crunch of wood and metal from behind me. My sightline was only the endless waves, something that was quickly adjusted when a green mana construct formed in front of me.

A blast of hurricane wind twirled us around towards the next ship in the blink of an eye. Even if we had the air element at the same level, I had to admit the skill needed to do such a maneuver while carrying another person was beyond me, forget having the passenger be almost twice my size. Massaging any wound in my petty pride with the knowledge that I was mostly focusing on scientific practice, we careened between the two ships.

We were traveling too fast for me to summon a stone spell. Something that a white and green streak falling from the sky rendered unimportant. A massive column resembling a tornado slammed into the ship with a loud crunch. The sound from the pillar was far less than it should have been, allowing the screams of men to be heard.

Another blast took us towards the trees. As we moved past the second ship, a wall of heat suddenly engulfed my back.

“EEK!” Harrah yelped, more in surprise than pain.

The shore came up and we landed among the cowed shrubbery that was close enough to the bush I had sucked life from to know to pull back rather than grab at us. My feet landed on some rock before I immediately turned to see the carnage we had left behind.

I tried to look at my work through the bushes between us and the ships but it was Harrah’s work that commanded the first appraisal. The tornado was sucking up the seawater below the ship. Intermingled with the water was thick smoke and streaks of orange flame from a barrel meeting the flame too soon. Astronomical heat made the copper shell of the ship glow red hot. Wood fared as expected in the inferno, with the sails having been burned to nothingness. It was hard to tell if it was the barrel's payload or the wind that made the blaze so intense, but the way the skin of the pirates on the deck melted off before burning to ash was impressive no matter the cause.

“I’m so glad my unsuited element could rise to the occasion.” A particularly smug voice boasted on my left.

Looking to the right, the sight between the leaves was a mashed side of copper metal on the ship and a pulp of wood on the deck from a boulder that had since disappeared. Not nearly as spectacular as the raging inferno. But the limp mast hanging down the side with the crushed backside suggested the vessel was out of the fight even as it dipped seaward with the water enchantments on its backside.

“Not everything is about flash, young thing. The next ship is calling us.”

Accentuating the point, a large crash of wood from far to the left blasted over any words I might have used. The boom faded with nothing but a chill left behind.

“We’ve still got two other ships to see to. Up for-“

My vision rocked for a second before I realized a subtle rumble was going off beneath my feet. It wasn’t an earthquake, causing the leaves to rustle and stones to knock against each other in distinct waves but little else. No panic came, however, as memory immediately placed the source. A look into Harrah’s blue eyes told me she knew as well as I did what was coming.

“Go help Palta. I’ll try to lead it off.” I instructed as I moved past her to the heart of the forest.

“What?!”

A hand gripped my right arm between the wooden armor with such strength I would have sworn some mechanical vice was being used. I turned to the woman, a faint smile trying to project confidence.

“I’ve run from the worm before.”

She stared at me with a blank face. Concern fought with the soldier within for a moment before she straightened her back.

“And you’re confident you’ll make it? With the smoke… Zigget’s not going to be able to help you.”

“I’m confident I have a better chance than either of you.”

And a lot more so if I can use all my abilities.

Harrah nodded, her blue eyes hardening before she turned to the beach with a twirl of her pigtails.

“Good luck. Zigget might be able to make a big hole in the smoke if you need to make a way back to us.”

That was all she gave me before a green mana construct formed below her feet and launched the small woman through the trees. Soft rumbling helped mask the whoosh of air until that grumbling earth was all that could be heard. With nothing left to do, I slung the crossbow into the ground to get rid of as much dead weight as possible. The armor was likewise abandoned to the mud save the helmet. Speed would save me here, not defense. Nor could I waste time putting an enchantment into my remaining gear.

Winter clawed around the white shirt and brown pants with every step forward. The local plants weren’t getting their fondling in this time, instead wrapping around into thick poles of green or pressing into mats of grass as thick as steel mesh. Moving around a boulder, a piece of it further ahead fell off and took out an unfortunate bush. It was a few seconds of maneuvering around the frightened forest before I came down a small hill and onto a patch of large bark scars. At the edges of this open land, the soil moved around the sunken trees in jerks and twists.

Wet, sucking mud mixed with snow clung to my boots as I moved closer to the bark splotches. It was hard to tell how far the beast was. The fact that each step was becoming a struggle to take didn’t help proceedings. Making my way through the clearing took a minute with the shifting land.

Travel only became worse the closer to the source I got. Wind blew the smoke high and away, but the pirates had been thorough enough that no amount of wind would pull back the choking fog of smoke nor could it steady my feet on ground that was becoming more restless with every step. The faint sun was already blocked by smoke, something I was thankful for. Zigget had no way of seeing me in this mess, allowing for the use of the white-hot fire beam that had marred the beast the first time. The earth was now a struggle to walk over even on previously flat terrain, a fight that continued for a few minutes as I plunged further into the pitch-black heart of fire and smoke, changing course only when the rumbling ground grew calmer.

Arriving near the top of a valley, I quickly slinked behind a large boulder. It was a wide wound in the land with a roiling mass of soil past the river across the other side. A small lake of flame and smoke with bits of the spent barrels around the edges was getting sucked into the lower layers of the ground through the middle like a smoothie being churned in a blender. Dirt-covered trees were strewn around the slope, crushing bushes or cracking against boulders with debris crumbling into the water that had sliced the valley into existence. Looking up, the sky was almost pitch black save a few rays of grey sun. If Zigget was up there, the moth would have choked to death or blown the smoke away to get a better view. Satisfied, I looked towards the swirling mass of dirt with only a few patches of flame remaining. I knew well what it was from our first tangle.

I looked around for some hidden path around the sides when a wave of a spirit connection rolled over me. It was similar to what Gula had described on her trip, but this lasted for only a moment before withdrawing. Out of the dirt came the gaping maw of the Devourer with bits of soil shifting around the building-sized worm before the stone armor was finally revealed. A small storm of dust blew through the rows of teeth along its tendrilled mouth.

Again the spirit connection came, shifting over my skin for a minute before settling as a constant buzz around my body. Summoning a spear of white-hot flame in my hand, I pointed it toward the monster’s scar along the exposed skin of its left jaw. A growl reverberated from the Devourer at the insinuation, sending a shake through my body I felt down to the helixes of my DNA. When the thumping ended, the beast shifted in the dirt hole it had made with only the sound of crackling fires left to hear. Seconds of us staring at each other passed, two of the closest things to magic godhood this world ever knew measuring each other.

I pondered all the possibilities of attack and counters as smoke and ash swirled around. For all my imagination, nothing seemed as effective as a blast of flame down the throat between air-boosted jumps. After another second, the ground stilled. My body tensed for a coming attack, thinking it was drawing mana for a strike. That was until the massive head turned downward into the soil. A long tube of stone-covered worm followed the head while my eyes went to the river waiting for a sign of the beasts crossing.

Instead, my gaze was pulled upward when the monster went further along the valley, moving away from me.

Whether because it was outside of its typical territory or fear of fighting me and Cell, or a bit of both, the monster probably decided that the hassle of another scar wasn’t worth it. The notion was confirmed when the tube-like body made one last surface breech over the hill before it disappeared past the lip of the valley.

There I lay, leaning against a boulder with no war before me. This was the best outcome, yet it also meant I had little to do while my temporary companions had to commit to a life-or-death battle. Then the last few days of non-stop labor made themselves known in my knees and lower spine.

The ball of guilt in my gut deflated a level.

With nothing left to do, I summoned some stone and molded a good-sized hole under some of the uprooted trees. I slinked into the shelter, my ears picking up no sound beyond the crackle of burning wood and a gust of wind. Bitter chill covered my skin as I squatted in the dirt. Clouds of mist from my mouth swirled with the layers of smoke just outside of my rat nest. The only mercy was that the air was mixed with the smell of dirt and wet wood as opposed to the constant charcoal that had seized every inch of my nose since arriving.

I counted every second, waiting and listening for the Devourer to find its courage all the while, but when the last second of the 9th minute came and went, I moved out of my hole by digging through the opposite end. The air was still rank with smoke and if not for seeing the monster's handiwork myself, I would have thought the barrels were doing their foul deed.

My foot pressed against wet mud for a moment before I took off in a sprint ahead. In between looking at the path between trees and rocks, I made sure to muddy my white shirt's sides with a few cuts to the skin beneath. Not enough to hinder or seriously bleed, but it would sell the story. The return trip was faster this time without the constant threat of getting my ankles snapped even if I stood still.

When I came close to the beach where the ships were, the smoke had spread to the shore mixing with that salty breeze. The sky was somewhat blue and I could even see the one black pillar off to my left where Harrah had struck her blow. I maneuvered through the bushes, sending a cascade of ashes down the leaves as I went.

The land here still remembered me sucking the life out of the flora, with bushes and grass letting me through with no fuss. Slinking behind a larger boulder, I looked along the shore. Bits of driftwood now clustered along the rocks and sand, interspersed with bodies or bits thereof. My search for some sign of my earlier work was fruitless until I shifted and saw the burning mass of Harrah’s effort farther down to the left.

If not for that flaming wreck and its debris littering the sea, I would have thought myself lost. A moment of confusion cleared up when a spout of water suddenly shot out on the ocean. A long spike of wood flew through the air before disappearing behind the frothy peak of a wave. A minute of moving around shrubbery took me close enough to see my companions arriving on the beach with Palta holding onto Pipkin and Harrah blasting sea spray around until it mixed with sand as the air scion plowed into the shore with a muffled thump.

“Shit.” The princess proclaimed with a wave coming up to her feet before slinking back.

It was an apt descriptor for her state. The brown and green leather armor had a series of rips and cuts, one even deep enough to draw blood along the side. Those wounds were rather light compared to the burns along the right side of her face reaching up to her eye. Harrah wasn’t nearly as disheveled, even if she had a ragged appearance. The flecks of blue and gold mana being sucked into their neck pieces demanded a moment of attention before I walked forward.

“Have the pirates been seen to?” I asked after the chorus of ragged breaths subsided.

“You survived the Devourer?” Harrah asked with a raise of her black eyebrows.

“More like… tricked. Moved some of the ruins of the flaming barrels south and extinguished the ones burning further north. Never saw the beast, unlike your quarry apparently.”

Harrah grimaced at that. Her expression was nothing compared to the almost feral growl coming out of the princess.

“Oh, we got them alright.” Palta spat out between gritted teeth. Her giant otter lifted itself with her feet trying to bring the whole body upward. It was vaguely successful even if she swayed for a second.

“Should we wait for your healing enchantments to finish, or do you want to head out now?” I inquired with a light tone.

The two women looked askance at me, in equal parts amusement and irritation.

“Tilvor,” Harrah scolded with a small smile “Most people would have at least pretended to not notice such valuable tactical information.”

“Now.” Palta declared with a steadier step forward. “We move now.”

And we did after I had retrieved my armor and crossbow. A small trip along the sand and rock was all it took before the beached boat came into view. Pipkin promptly slid into the water while Zigget no doubt flew around overhead. Palta’s mood did not lighten even as she shuffled through the open hatch. When my companions were ready, I used earth magic to pull the sand out to sea with the boat. A moment of sloshing followed my approach onto the ship before I plopped my way in, the black spot of Pipkin showing in the water before I closed the hatch.