I walked numbly through the Artisan’s Lane, the booths unmanned and the lanterns hanging from the ceiling dimmed, so low I couldn’t see anything through the glassy floor I treaded upon.
I wasn’t quite sure how I had gotten there. My body was healed from the recent Melee, but in my mind most everything else was a blur: from Tamra winning to the Summoner Elder’s announcement and Maphen, too – he had said something to me, but I couldn’t seem to grasp the memory of what.
What was clear to me, the words I would not – could not – forget, were those I had shared with Tamra atop the mountain. Everyone else had perished by then, including Maphen, and she had been about to place her hand on the Victor’s Plinth. I was lying near it, only a trickle of air hissing in and out of my body. She noticed me, and I expected her to deliver a more final wound than the one she had given me through my chest. Instead, she stared at me a moment and then kneeled down next to where I laid.
“We’ve been needing to talk, you and I,” she said.
I tried to respond, but only spit came out of my mouth. I think my lungs were collapsing from where she had stabbed me.
“Probably best you just listen anyway,” Tamra said. “It’ll be faster.”
That’s what she said but then she just sat there, like she was trying to figure out the best way to put her thoughts together. Finally, she blew out a frustrated sigh.
“There’s no pretty way to spin it, so let’s get on with the ugly. Aldric and I, we knew what they were giving us in the Crim. When you stopped coming with us to drink on our free nights, well, we drank more and made some new friends along the way. One of them was a man who was going up the Tower the next day, and he didn’t want to take all his secrets with him – felt them too much a burden to carry, he said. Told us that he had spent years selling mixtures to the Crim: a powder for the bread, a liquid for the juice; mixtures he said we’d best not have if we wanted some sweetness in life before it was over. We didn’t know what he was on about, but we decided to avoid those things just to see, and sure as the Seven, in a week’s time, we felt the difference. Couldn’t tell no one else, and honestly, we didn’t want to. We were having too much fun; the dead man had been right – felt like I had made it to the Celestial Realm the first time Aldy and I were together. And it’s only gotten better since.”
Each word of her story pushed the pain in my chest further from my awareness until the only sensation that pressed down upon me was a burning need to ask why. Why hadn’t they told me? I had stopped carousing with them months before we entered the Tower. Did that mean they had been keeping the secret from me that entire time? We had spent countless hours with each other between my first sparring session with Maphen and our last day at the Crim, many of them discussing our deepest hopes and darkest fears for the future. And during all of that, both of them had chosen to stay silent about something as important as this? Why hadn’t they trusted me? I trusted them with everything.
“Not trying to hurt you, Sett,” she said, clearly understanding my reaction even if I couldn’t speak. “You know we couldn’t have told you. If we had, what would you have done? Told the instructors, that’s what,” she answered. “And we weren’t about to give up what we had gained.”
I couldn’t believe that’s what she thought of me, that I’d betray her and Aldric so easily. Maybe she thinks that because that’s how easily they betrayed you. The thought was so unlike me I assumed it was from the ring until I saw it glittering on her finger, which only deepened the hurt she claimed she wasn’t trying to make me feel. She could have asked me for it, just like the two of them could have asked me not to tell anyone about their discovery. But they hadn’t. Neither of them.
Tamra gave me an annoyed look, like I wasn’t taking this news the way I was supposed to.
“Anyway, now you know. Aldy was never going to tell you.” With that added barb, she put her sword through my eye, which winked the world out until I shuddered awake sometime later. I had slid off the precipice without looking back, the world seeming to shrink down to a pinhole. All I knew was that I wanted to move away, as far from it all as the Tower was tall.
Perhaps that’s why I had ended up here; it was the most distant point I knew about on the first level. I hadn’t known it would be empty, though, or nearly empty – a light at the end tugged my feet onward.
As I walked, I realized that Maphen had made it into the top five – that’s what he had been talking with me about. But the result just meant he’d be able to join an Order now, surely the Summoners, so he wouldn’t need me anymore.
Just like my siblings didn’t.
I took a long, slow breath in. No, Tamra and Aldric weren’t my kin. They were just…people I had grown up with. Wasn’t that what Aphos had been trying to tell me on the steps?
Perhaps I was finally ready to listen to him.
I made it to the last stall in the row, which instead of being placed on the right or left was directly in front of me. To think of it as a stall hardly seemed right though because it was so unlike the rest, a brass pyramid that stood two stories tall. The only opening was a rectangle cut out of the center, but the portal had no door. Instead, the gateway was filled with a soft fog that glowed yellow – the light I had seen from a distance – all very similar to the entryway of the Tower.
I paused before it, the misty barrier drifting lazily in front of me. I hoped there was a demon within, a large one that would kill me swiftly. I would prefer nothingness over the profound loneliness I was feeling now.
Stepping through, my skin tensed, hardening. Though I wanted death, it seemed that my body would not submit so easily. If I hadn’t been in such a foul mood, I likely would have been pleased that I was starting to use my mastery as a reflex.
The hardness turned out to be unnecessary, the fog hiding no tearing teeth or vicious claws. It was warm, that was about all, and the mist left a bit of condensation on me as I stepped through to the other side. Within, I was hit by a blast of air ten times as hot, my skin immediately breaking into a full sweat. A pool of magma took up most of the floor and stopped me from advancing any farther lest I melt my feet off. Past it was a massive anvil with various tools hung on the wall behind: a large hammer; dark, wide pliers; a bent rod; and other items I was unfamiliar with the use of. I tried breathing more shallowly but the heat still felt like it was crisping my throat, the air warping over the magma with how hot it was.
I was about to turn around when a hand lifted from the pool of glowing orange. It was human and, by some miracle of the Seven, still clothed in flesh. It waved at me, which only left me feeling more unmoored and unsure how to proceed. The hand moved to the edge of the pool and then, like a swimmer pulling themselves up from a pond, a second hand joined the first, pulling a tall body up out of the liquid fire.
At first I thought it would be another remembrance, like Boast and his wall of flame, but this turned out to be someone I had seen before: the Artisan Devout who had made Aphos his exploding sword.
“Forgive me,” he said, standing there naked, globs of lava still clinging to him. Then he did something, and they all fell to the floor, pinging against the stone like marbles. He brushed them into the glowing pool with his foot before touching his big toe to the lake of orange. It too froze, suddenly still, the heat haze above it dissipating. “Terribly hot for you, I’m sure.” He walked over to a wooden rack that held a long cloth tunic that he slipped over his head, belting it with a strap of leather also lying nearby. “Seven be praised, heat rises. It will all go out through the top here shortly.”
I looked up and saw that there was a hole in the peak of the brass pyramid. That would be a relief, but it didn’t explain why the Devout had been diving through magma or how he had survived. His Artisan Masteries were surely the key to the second, but still, what in the world were they to give him such extreme durability?.
He walked over the lava lake on his bar feet, offering me a grin and a hand. “Tybis is my name. I take it the most recent Melee is over?” His head was bald, perhaps because of his recent swim, but his eyes were a tawny brown, a clear mark of his Order.
My hand was engulfed in his, but I shook it all the same.
“That’s right.”
“And how did you do?” he asked, releasing my hand. When I didn’t immediately answer, his grin widened. “There’s always one who comes here after, which is why I stay open. I’ve tried to convince the other Artisans to do the same, but they want to join in the festivities more than they want to sell to a lone customer. Not that I mind the exclusivity.” He rubbed his hands together, and turned toward the anvil. “Follow me.”
I hesitated to walk on the lava but then remembered that I didn’t particularly care about being engulfed in a fiery death at the moment. Trailing after him, I went ahead and answered his question, picking at the painful memory like I would a scab.
“I placed third,” I said, thinking of Maphen, but then I realized that I had probably survived longer than him. “Or maybe second.”
“That’s good!” Tybis declared, looking over his shoulder at me. “Usually the people I help are at the bottom, worried they're going to be forced out of their Order, that sort of thing. The last one was a Healer. Funny girl. Just wanted some metal knuckles she could use her mastery through. Barely took an hour to craft.”
I couldn’t find the will to react to his comments. I knew it was terribly rude, especially considering it was a Devout I was speaking to. But what had my adherence to rules gotten me? I had told our Warrior instructor Voshra that I wanted to protect everyone. How was I supposed to do that when those I thought closest to didn’t even trust me?
“Ah…I see,” he said.
I got away from my thoughts long enough to see that the way Tybis was looking at me had changed considerably.
“What?”
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He shook his head as if he shared my sorrow. “Second? And you come to me like this? You’re hardly the first Neophyte to make it to the top of the mountain and then be betrayed. Such is the nature of the Melee.”
“I wasn’t betrayed,” I said but faltered on the last word. Or was that exactly what I had been?
“Betrayed or not, we Artisans can set you aright, forging the perfect companion to help you reach the future you desire. So, what is it you desire, Neophyte?”
I looked side-to-side, realizing for the first time that if this was a shop it was barren but for the tool behind where Tybis stood.“What do you have for sale?”
He smiled the widest yet. “My store is in here,” he said, poking me in the forehead. Again, my skin tightened reflexively but he didn’t seem to mind. “I can craft whatever you might wish, or near enough that it makes no difference.”
Even though he was a Devout, I wasn’t sure I could believe so bold a claim. “Is that what you were doing down there?” I said, indicating the floor below us.
“Indeed,” he answered. “Many magical materials are best worked with in such a state.” He wagged a finger at me. “But don’t ask to see it; I never show my wares before they are completed.”
Aphos’s sword had certainly been impressive, winning him the Devout’s Melee. But that surely meant the cost would match, and last time I had tried to buy something in the Lane I hadn’t had enough teeth, even with Maphen’s added in.
“For how much?” I asked, not daring to get my hopes up.
“I don’t traffic in teeth,” Tybis said dismissively, a gleam entering his golden brown eyes. “So many people here are just going through the motions, following age old ruts. Where is their creativity, I ask you, their passion? Why isn’t every Neophyte from the Melee, from second place to last with you now, clamoring for a way to improve, to reach heights even beyond that of the Tower? Isn’t that what true refinement is, perfection beyond any limits?”
He didn’t sound like he actually wanted answers to his questions, but I found them interesting nonetheless. Beyond the Tower? I had never even considered such a thing.
“I’m interested in making items that will do things,” the Devout continued, “so I ask you, if I were to craft you something, how do you plan to use it?”
The question struck me as similar to Voshra’s but with Tybis there seemed to be only fierce curiosity. The trouble was I felt so adrift, I was no longer sure. The old me would have said to end the War Above, to save everyone. I still wanted that – I could feel the desire to throw back the demons burning within me – but instead of imagining all my siblings beside me as I did it, I faced the onslaught alone.
“To win the Everwar,” I said despite my doubts, my voice quiet, drifting upward along with the heat.
“I see,” he said, taking my response seriously. “A noble answer to be sure, and one I can understand being as hard to say as it will be to accomplish. What sort of item were you thinking would assist you?”
I immediately thought of the shield during my last visit to the Lane. It had been glorious, but I had put it off to help another. If I had been selfish, I could have blocked Tamra’s sword thrust. And then what? Smashed her in the face with it? I had originally thought of having the shield to extend my ability to protect others, but was that truly what would serve me moving forward?
“What is your current mastery?” Tybis asked, perhaps sensing my conflicted thoughts.
“Toughened Skin.”
“And why did you choose it?”
“I wanted to survive, to wear down my enemy.”
“Hmm,” Tybis said. “What say you to a suit of Memory Armor?”
“What’s that?” I asked, my neck arched back so I could look up at him. The frozen magma still produced light from below my feet and there were other torches that reflected off his shorn head, making it seem like polished metal.
“Very much like it sounds,” he answered genially. “It remembers where it gets hit, and in those spots it reinforces itself, which does two things for you. One, it better protects you for the next time you’re in a scrum. Two, it lets you know where you’re letting attacks through, so you can improve your defense. The truth is, the perfect Warrior won’t have any thicker parts. The armor being in balance will let you know that you’ve reached a place of balanced defense, too.”
My mind took that description and ran, thinking how that in combination with my Toughened Skin would make me incredibly hard to take down. And then I remembered Fargle stabbing me in the side when I hadn’t known he was there. If the Memory Armor only learned from the past, I’d still be dead on the ground.
“Do you make any armor that can see an attack coming? Preferably from behind?”
“Thinking of Assassins, I assume?” he said, and I confirmed with a nod. “For them I could make you a Helm of True Sight. It would let you see their movements, even when they’re camouflaged in shadow, as well as detect anything that gets within a few meters of you.”
His description tickled my memory, and I realized where it was from: what he was describing sounded just like the vision I had been given when looking into the Scrying Pool.
“Like the Warrior in the Pool?” I asked.
“Precisely that,” he answered, his smile extending – he seemed to like talking about his creations. “I modeled mine off of the original.”
An item like that would be invaluable, letting me use my Toughened Skin much more effectively. I should be ecstatic at the idea of it, and yet I experienced no such excitement. In my imaginings of how to use what Tybis was describing, I was still thinking about fighting Tamra and the other Orders, but that wasn’t winning the War Above.
It was this school, and their thinking. They didn’t poison us with food and drink like the Crim had; here, the sickness was much worse because it was in what they taught us. I had always believed that those placed above me knew more, but the truth was that they hadn’t won the Everwar yet, and each day I spent here, I better understood why. They cultivated a system that left people like Emsi wishing they could escape and teachers like Voshra taking out their impotence on us. If the Elders were going to have us fight as teams, they should have done that to begin with instead of splintering us apart first. They had taken bonds I had spent a lifetime forging and broken them within a few weeks.
This all came swirling up in me in a fury that I knew was tainted by my experience in today’s Melee, but I was hardly in a place I could separate them – and in this moment, like Tamra had said to me, I didn’t want to. My path ahead was finally clear again, and I wanted to hold tight to the perfect image of it: I was done with relying on others, supporting them so we could all succeed. I would lead the way, and if others wished to follow, they could, but I wouldn’t make the mistake of relying on them; I couldn’t keep wasting my efforts like that, not when every second that slipped past the demons came closer to destroying us all.
The ring had taught me to listen to the voice inside, and unhappy though she may be, Voshra had encouraged the same. I was right in this.
“Thinking of something else?” Tybis inquired, kind enough to have given me time with my thoughts.
I looked at the Devout and nodded. “I don’t just want to win the Everwar, I want to lead the charge. Do you have something for that?”
“Well now,” Tybis said, the gleam returning to his eyes. “Perhaps this then.” He moved his hands above the anvil, and from where his fingers traced orange light followed, creating lines that formed together into a long, narrow shape. The lines glowed brightly and then suddenly where they had been a cream colored rod rested on the metal surface.
Had the anvil been storing the object, and he had just called it forth? Even after all these days in the Tower, I still knew so little of the workings of magic and the many items it empowered.
Tybis gestured at what he had summoned, so I picked it up. The rod was smooth and slightly cool to the touch, a contrast to the heat around me that was still dissipating. Holding it, I swore it thrummed, the vibration echoing through my bones. The oddity was followed by an even stranger sensation, that of my body responding to the tremor that had run through it from fingers to toes by starting to grow, my legs and arms lengthening and expanding. I looked at the Devout in shock, who just smiled back at me, as I went from being a good meter shorter than him to just under his chin to then his equal, staring him eye-to-eye. Looking down, I saw that my chest and shoulders completely filled what had before been a loose red tunic, my arms as thick as Aphos’s. My skin trailed a wispy blue light, and I now saw similar streams and eddies in the air, some a hazy blue like what I produced, others a slow moving, filmy yellow, and in a few shadows there was a dark maroon, settled, waiting.
“What just happened?” I asked, and even my voice surprised me, deeper than any sound I had ever before produced.
“You have become what we all aspire to: a celestial. Or, a small version of them, at least.”
“But how?” Looking at Tybis I was struck by how a second face hovered in front of the first. Both were him, but one stayed steady while the other shifted unnaturally. The second went from a look of exultation, to cold calculation, to genuine warmth faster and more completely than any natural face could move. The one behind the ghostly apparition, his physical face, stayed in a pleasant smile the whole time.
“It is from the Guardian,” he explained.
“The Guardian,” my bass voice echoed, tinged in awe. I looked at the cream colored rod again. Was it a piece from that divine entity? Something it had carried or perhaps blessed?
“I noticed that he cried sometimes,” Tybis explained, and even after all that had just transpired, I found myself surprised again. Something so majestic weeped? “So, with the help of some Beast-Kin, I collected his tears, and forged them into that rod. They altered the metal into what you now hold, a fascinating alloy.”
As he spoke, I realized I was shrinking, my body deflating like it had been filled with too much air: my clothes grew loose again, and I found the rod in my hand much heavier than before when my arms had been double the size. My vision was also now clear of the second sight I had briefly possessed, and I felt somewhat blind from the lack. I wasn’t sure what Tybis’s extra faces had meant or the shifting colors in the air, but I wanted to learn, sure that knowledge of each would be a boon. I had felt so strong in that form, a fact underscored by how diminished and small I felt now.
“You would give this to me?” I asked, disbelieving. “Something of such power when we’ve only just met?”
He chuckled amiably, and I found myself wondering what his other face would show. “I was not entirely honest with you before. I know who you are because Aphos has told me: his Champion of the Hall who would rather discuss the War Above than waste time on carnal pleasures. Aphos was more complaining than complementing, but I was intrigued. He will be called to ascend soon, and I don’t have much faith in the Acolytes under him. The Warriors will need a new leader, one with a clear purpose, and I think that might be you. Though, I’m not sure you were entirely honest with me when you answered my question before.” He paused as if giving me the opportunity to correct my mistake.
The truth of why I wanted his help? I supposed I did know it, buried down within me, but it felt petty to say, as if I was placing my needs in front of the world’s survival. Still, Tybis had asked me for it, and who was I to refuse him after the treasure he had just let me experience?
“I want to be so strong no one can ever hurt me again.”
“Ah,” he said, reaching over the anvil to pat me on the shoulder, “there’s the heart of it, and not so different than your answer before. But I guarantee following this one will take you further. To your other question,” he added with a mischievous smile, “I am not giving you anything yet. As you saw, the tears were only enough to create a brief transformation. In order to craft something that will have a longer effect, I’ll need a full bone, and we can’t very well desecrate the Guardian. So, we’ll need to wait until the next knight falls; a trip you’ll be joining me on as part of your payment, I might add.”
I nodded my head vigorously. I would do anything required to be that version of myself again. Like that, I was sure I’d be able to accomplish what I wanted, both for me and for humanity.
“While I can’t start on the item yet,” Tybis said, “we can still have a bit of fun with planning. What form do you wish it to take?”
His question pulled my thoughts of the Everwar up short. I didn’t need a shield or a weapon that would let me parry; my skin would be my armor. I was also done worrying about others, and with my new size…
“A two-handed sword,” I told him, once again feeling the rightness of the words as I spoke them. “The largest you can make.”