Before the beginning there was nothing.
Worlds were yet to be born and universes were still forming, spreading through the void like frothing foam on waves.
In that nothing between bubbles of something, in the cracks between realities, flowed the Divine Wind.
At the time we knew not from where or how it flowed.
We gods were new then too, wonderfully naïve. Like barnacles clinging to the underbelly of a great whale, we fed ourselves on the divinity that wafted around us and built our shells – our divine realms. Bubbles of our own making, lesser universes where we were almighty. Or so we told ourselves, as we shut out the horrific enormity of the Existence in which we had become aware.
In that time before knowing, solace would be found in the form of companionship. From within our fortress realms we slowly came to be aware of one another. Yet we were infants competing for the same teat. Only so much life flowed out, and so we were thrust into uneasy coexistence, ever watchful, jealous that our neighbors might grow too fat on divinity at our expense.
Though it lasted longer than any could measure, that precarious balance was always doomed – I can see that now. The collapse of that order was only natural. At times one god would lay hands on another’s nourishment, perhaps even though negligence, but that was enough.
Divine blood would color the winds.
More and more we gods fought, tearing each other down. Few truly wished to harm their rivals, but nor could they be allowed to grow strong uncontested. What if our foes were less kindly than we?
Over dark eons, terror and strife ruled us all.
Countless gods were born, lived and died unknown, in the struggle to survive the formless gaps between realities.
Some slaughtered the newborn, rather than risk allowing them to grow and deprive them. Some consumed the corpses for their meager yet precious nourishment.
But fear, loss and grief could not be allowed to rule us forever.
Together we could accomplish so much. We elder gods, the oldest and wisest, came to understand the folly of our dreadful Existence. United we would escape the madness of our own weakness. We would end the suffering and build a better Existence.
Over time those who could cooperate displaced those who sought only to stand alone. Factions formed. Even the elder gods were not united. But my faction accrued the greatest power and experience; we were the strongest, the natural leaders of our kind.
Even so, others sought to resist our ascendance, then later to displace us. For the sake of all gods, we crushed them.
The lesser gods called us tyrants, but it was we who created a peaceful society – one of cooperation and mutual prosperity, where we built the first divine tools. They allowed the harvesting of the divine wind to be expanded. We no longer had to struggle just to survive and maintain ourselves.
An age of learning and exploration began.
With new tools we peered out on the many worlds taking shape outside of the divine realms in which we lived and died. We looked deep into the layers of reality on which they stood. In this way, over time beyond measure, we built our understanding of Creation.
It should be no surprise that we shared our insights with our lessers, the newer gods who had come after us. All we asked in return was a simple tithe – a portion of the divinity they gathered, as thanks and repayment for the canon of learning and the divine tools we granted them.
Yet still they were ungrateful. They could not see that our strength was their security.
We already had the greatest reserves of divine power, they said, how could we need more? Why should we, the strongest, grow ever greater on the backs of the weak?
At the time I laughed. I was a mighty elder goddess and they were like impertinent children before me. They had no idea the anguish we were saving them from, how much worse their lives could have been if they were born earlier.
Perhaps I just liked being on top. It was reassuring. Comfortable.
I knew I wouldn’t misuse my power, could I say the same of others? Better that I rule, then. I did such great good, was it so wrong then that I claimed too the greatest rewards? Was it so wrong if in serving us all I served myself first? Was there any better leader than I for our people?
The darkness god thought so, even if he denied it. Whenever I ventured out of my divine realm he would be there. Watching me.
He made excuses of course, wrapped in insincere compliments and transparent rationalizations of his ‘affection’ for me.
I knew the truth. He feared my power, which rivaled his. I was the goddess of light and luck; mine was the power to undo all his divine workings as god of darkness and fate, just as he could undo my own. We were natural enemies, the greatest threats to each other.
He sabotaged my every attempt at forming a personal union with the other gods. It began when I spurned his own advance – a thinly veiled attempt to control me, to contain my growing power under his, as if I were a possession to claim. After that each suitor was driven away in turn by misfortune, or scared off by foul rumors of my past in the dark eons.
Even as I strived to form closer bonds with the other elder gods, to build stability and reinforce the ever-threatened order we had paid so dearly for, the accursed Myr was undermining my works, sowing the seeds of discord between the other gods and I. It was obvious every time voices spoke against me at the godsmoot; the creeping fingers of his influence and the self-interest of those he manipulated.
It all came out in the end. His miserable deeds and the lies he told. His tricks never fooled the giant god, and as she and I grew closer, Myr’s desperation led him to overplay his hand and expose himself. All knew him as the trickster and liar he was.
There were apologies made. On the face of it my position was secured. But few among the elder gods cared to punish one of our own – or to weaken the being best placed to oppose me. His humiliation was punishment enough they said.
I disagreed.
They were fearful and treacherous as Myr.
Though I endured to save the fragile peace, I never trusted them again. Too many had been too quick to believe his lies, to turn against me. He and I were bitter enemies from then on. Watchfulness and anxiety became my constant companions.
I had the giant god of course; my sweet Cyclops, a lesser god, yet noble and strong as we elders.
But she too refused my advances. She wished to be ‘friends’ – as if friendship could ever be enough in our cutthroat Existence.
She even dared suggest that we elder gods should give up our positions; allow she and her fellow lesser beings join us as equals. She wanted to ‘share the power’, but I knew what that really meant – the supremacy of the lesser gods over the elder.
I told her there was no need. It would only destabilize everything I had worked for, everything I built – and for what? Were the lesser gods suffering so badly under our rule?
But perhaps even she couldn’t wholly trust me after the vile rumors Myr concocted. Perhaps on some level she really believed I was the mad tyrant he painted me as.
She rejected me.
She rejected us, the elder gods.
It was a betrayal that cut deeper than any of Myr’s lies, but the heartbreak made me strong. It gave me resolve.
Even if Myr had destroyed the trust I had once commanded, I still led great strides forward for our kind.
The worlds that had been forming within the universes we observed were filled with life and prosperity, as the divine wind poured up out of the Astral Realm into each.
The Astral Realm from which the divine wind emerges, that which underpins Creation. It is the one constant within all universes, and even without. Where worlds took form, the layers of reality grew thinner, permitting the divine wind to exhale new forms and breathe life into new creatures. Or perhaps worlds formed in those places where reality was thinnest to begin with.
Whatever the answers might have been, and whatever the true nature of that which lay beneath Existence, we gods had found an incredible new source of power; one to rival all that we had accumulated until then.
============
I woke early from a dreamless sleep, the sun no more than an idea to the horizon outside.
For a moment I felt lost – where was I? Who was I?
The world clicked into place as I looked about me, felt my body drawing breath, and saw the huge figure of my precious friend at my side.
She was Ael and I was Saf.
After drinking into the small hours with me Ael had fallen asleep talking. That left me to lay beside her on her overgrown pillow, thinking to myself. I could have returned to my room, but one of her huge hands had gripped me and I didn’t like to disturb her. It had been comforting laying beside her in her powerful yet gentle hold, her breathing soothing me to sleep.
After the disorientation of my waking I was too present to go back to sleep, but it was also too early to get up. That was fine. Ael had me held tight enough that I was going nowhere anyway.
She was so strong and certain of herself in public, yet as she slept she held onto me like a fearful child.
It wasn’t fear for herself, but for her sister Arawn. That was an emotion I couldn’t entirely connect with.
I thought about my own family. My dad would have just been annoyed if I was worrying about him. I could hear his words as clear as if he were present; “Don’t go soft on me, boy, what are you a woman?”
I was dead to him now, in every sense.
I could picture him back on Earth, holding my funeral, telling people how I was a ‘strong, tough son’ and a ‘real man’. He’d probably talk about the sports I played, events we went to. He’d tell my friends and his about the bright future I had at college. He probably even shed a shameful tear, as he told everyone how he was proud of me.
Of course I’d rarely done much that actually made him proud, as he’d made clear when we were alone. I preferred playing videogames to sports, despite my attempts to gratify him. I’d never been the masculine ‘macho’ man he wanted me to be – I didn’t even know how to.
But it wasn’t just him I struggled to connect with. I was always self-conscious and uncomfortable around people, regardless of who they were. Human society only gave me a sense of anxiety and displacement; a sense that I was different, that I didn’t fit in. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin.
Not that he’d known. He never tried to get to know me; he just told me who I was to be. We never spent much quality time together either. Men weren’t ‘supposed’ to be loving or intimate. You couldn’t just open up and talk about your feelings or the things that bothered you. Not with him.
You had to be strong.
Get over it.
Toughen up.
Don’t think about it.
What are you, queer?
Looking back on my life on Earth, I didn’t regret leaving it behind. Nor did I regret my dad thinking me dead. He might be happier to believe my life was over than to know the truth.
To him I would only be a freak.
I might not have had a choice in leaving, but I certainly didn’t want to go back as I was now.
Of course if going back meant getting my real body back….
I stopped mid-thought at the realization; what if?
Unprompted memories welled up.
I was looking at my face in the reflection off a slain slime monster. I was feeling the way my new body moved, my hair flowing and my form swaying as I fought. I felt the needlegrass under my feet as I walked the peaceful forest. I donned my dress for the first time, and once more the sight of my reflection filled my mind. I did a spin and felt the fabric splay out around me. I felt so cute, so elegant….
I didn’t want to take the dress off.
Even if it made me a freak to him, I finally felt like a real person.
I felt happy.
I could still remember the euphoria of the previous morning; strutting the halls feeling amazing, totally accepted by everyone around me.
No-one had told me I should be manlier, or that it was wrong to be ‘feminine’. For the first time in my life I felt comfortable in my own body.
I’d been worried that something had changed inside me after everything I’d been though, but that was wrong. Perhaps on Earth I had simply never had the push to think about it. Or perhaps I never dared to. Perhaps I never would have.
I understood now why my body had changed.
I hadn’t lost my real body, I’d finally gained it. This was the real me.
It was a relief to admit it, even just to myself.
As tears rolled down my cheeks I felt glad Aellope was sleeping, but then I realized the absurdity of the thought – everyone knew that girls were free to cry.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
That too was wonderfully liberating.
~~~
The sun was just daring to break the line of the distant mountains.
I was… composed. I was ready to put Earth behind me. To put… everything behind me. Or at least to try.
Losing Earth meant giving up the mundane comforts of that society, but it was a price I’d willingly pay.
Arcadia might not have shops, running water or electricity, but the Harpies had everything they needed to survive. I would miss games and entertainment of course, but those things had only been salves for the alienation and discomfort of my life. No game ever gave me a shoulder to cry on or a hugged me when I was down.
I looked over at the sleeping Ael, filling my vision. She might be a little big for hugging but she was giving me her best approximation even as she slept.
There were Agytha and Chione too, both of whom I had struck up hard-won friendships with. I was growing to like Arawn and Shukra as well. They were all friends. They already knew me better than anyone I had left behind on Earth.
Arcadia was home now.
I might not have known them long, but the Harpies were more my family than anyone in my old life.
I’d been struggling to relate to Ael’s anxiety around Arawn leaving. When I thought about the possibility of Ael going after the princess I understood completely the knot of worry she must be feeling in the pit of her stomach.
I owed everything I had now to Ael and the Harpies.
I might not be able to do a lot, but I would do whatever I could to protect them; to protect my friends.
~~~
Rather than go to the dining hall, Ael and I shared a simple breakfast in her rooms. It was over a bowl of fresh fruits that I broached the topic at hand.
“I was thinking about the forces going South today.”
“As was I,” Ael nodded, voice subdued.
“I want to go with them.”
“I wish I could of course… wait… what do you mean, Saf? Why would you wish to go with the Valkyries?”
“Arawn’s going.”
“Certainly, sister is our greatest warrior and the marshal of our forces.” The Stormqueen did not show the pride she normally would have as she spoke.
“You’re still worried about her though, aren’t you?”
Ael was quiet long enough that I spoke again. “You said that I’m pretty good didn’t you? Not many people can win a match against Arawn. And even fewer people can take your venom and keep going, right?”
The Queen frowned. “Saf, you are a novice. Our duel was-”
“I know, I know,” I said quickly, “You were going easy on me. But I’ve gotten better since then. I can even use magic now! Besides, even if you’d still beat me in a rematch, that doesn’t mean I can’t help protect Arawn. We’re not going to meet anyone half as strong as you out there!”
“This isn’t what I want, Saf,” Ael objected, “Arawn must face the danger of the battle to come as is her duty, but you… you are a human… a friend. You have no duty to fight for us.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.”
She shook her head slowly. “Saf… have you ever killed another person? No, there is no need to speak. We both know the answer. Even when we fought there was no trace of bloodlust, no intent to kill in your attacks.”
“Maybe not, but do I really have to kill anyone? It’s not like there will be anyone out there who can threaten my life….”
“You underestimate real battle. When soldiers go to war they don’t fight fair duels, one on one in turn. They fight to kill any way they can. Sneak attacks, poison, an arrow in the back from a foe you never even saw….”
“But-”
“Even if you could face your foes head on in a bout, what can you do alone? A novice against ten expert warriors, all ready to kill you any way they can. Even if none could wound you deeply, how would you defend yourself against their numbers? You wouldn’t be the first ‘monster’ to die of a thousand cuts.”
“Ugh, you’re so infuriating, Ael!”
I glared up at the taller woman, trying and failing to argue with her words.
My earlier resolution felt foolish now. I thought of the instructor, Karlya. I was confident that in an all out fight I could defeat her, but If I faced ten of her… I would be dead, no bones about it.
Ael smiled and set her huge finger gently on my shoulder. “You are a sweet girl Saf, too sweet for the horror of war. Stay here with me where I won’t have to worry about you too…. Please.”
I put a hand on Ael’s finger and gripped her tight.
“I just… you’ve done so much for me, given me so much. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or your sister.”
Aellope scooped me right out of my chair, ignoring my flailing arms as I was lifted into the air.
“Hey! Put me down, I’m still mad at you!”
She held me to the soft down of her chest, her chin brushing the top of my head.
“Thank you, Safkhet,” she murmured quietly.
My frustration slipped away as I heard the painful tone of her voice. I hugged her back as best I could.
“I’m the one who should be saying thank you….”
~~~
When Arawn and the Valkyries were to depart later that morning thousands gathered to see them off. The mostly human-scale harpies encircled the open-air throne platform of the Stormqueen, where the courtiers and the Valkyries themselves had gathered.
Princess Arawn was the leader of the two wings of professional warriors being dispatched. Geared for battle as she was, the queen’s sister was an imposing figure. She was armed with bow and spear, with a metal shield buckled to her forearm. Her usual atmosphere was forgotten – she gave off a fierce martial aura now.
The other Valkyries were similarly equipped with a variety of weapons. All wore three-segment carrying packs that were strapped to the lower back and thighs with compartments in each segment. Traditional backpacks would have made flying difficult.
They were an impressive sight, lined up before the queen and court, but I couldn’t help but note that each ‘wing’ of Valkyries appeared to be about 70 people. Arawn’s total force for the counterattack was just 130 strong by my estimate.
Given how powerful the Harpies were, perhaps it was plenty. Karlya had explained to me that few species or societies in the region maintained standing armies. They were hugely expensive to equip, train and feed, and served no purpose in peace time.
Instead the harpy nobles who ruled each settlement had the responsibility to protect the people in peacetime – using their own personal soldiers or servants. Those forces were seldom particularly large and their members often still had other duties aside from actually guarding others.
Those same nobles also helped determine how other resources were allocated – such as food, tools and training. It was no wonder that the nobility thought they were better than everyone else – they had the best of everything and the luxury of not needing to work to survive.
That being the case, few low-born harpies could afford the training and time necessary to earn recognition as a professional warrior and win admission into the elite Valkyries. As for the nobles, proportionally more of them could of course, but there were far fewer nobles to begin with.
But even if the Valkyries weren’t numerous, they were exceptionally skilled. Despite being a late-comer to combat I gleaned a clear sense just looking at them that each of the women departing with Arawn was an expert martial artist.
There was a short court ceremony, befitting the urgency of the mission.
Ael’s powerful voice rang out past the circle of columns, carried on supernatural wind to be heard by all in attendance. She praised the bravery and power of their warriors of course, and spoke of the swift victory they would surely win. It was all the usual hot air of such events, but it still got cheers from the attendees.
After her it was Thessaly’s turn. I hadn’t seen the priestess at court before. As Ael had, she released a tremulation of mana in her voice, which seemed to carry it lightly through the air to all present.
She gave a heartfelt blessing for the warriors departing, and beseeched all present to give their wholehearted support to the queen and the princess in this trying time. Her passion was unmistakable.
I’d never been besought before, but it was a touching speech. It even brought a tear to my eye. Thessaly had some bad ideas about the smallfolk, but I could tell how much she cared about her people.
When the speeches and blessings were done it was time for the Valkyries to depart.
Princess Arawn gave a bow to the queen and priestess, the other warriors following suit, then with a leap from their powerful legs the harpies took flight.
Watching them go the mood grew somber, despite the widespread surety of their victory. No-one left as their figures were shrinking into the clear blue skies over the mountains, but the gathered members of the court started to share nervous small talk.
From my position at the foot of Ael’s throne I could hear the queen speak under her breath.
“What could you see of Arawn’s destiny, Priestess?”
Thessaly looked down at me for a moment before responding, but simply gave a respectful nod when I met her gaze.
“I regret to say that I cannot foresee the outcome of this expedition, your majesty. I apologize for my inability.”
Her voice was soft enough that the others present wouldn’t be able to hear.
“But alas, destiny is often so – unclear or even contradictory to those of us too small to understand it. The Goddess knows much we do not.”
“But you can see where our destinies will lead us. Where does Arawn’s take her?”
Thessaly hesitated. “Your majesty…. Cousin…. Are you certain it is wise to think in this manner? My insight is imperfect and the feather is cast to the wind. Please… do not torment yourself….”
Ael’s jaw tightened and she gave an unhappy nod. “As you say, Thessaly. It is too late to change my mind. Not that it was a choice to begin with.”
“Perhaps you would bless us with your gracious presence tonight at the temple? We could pray together for your dear sister’s safe return,” Thessaly suggested hopefully. “With the Princess and so many of the gallant Valkyries departed the people are anxious, just as we are. It would reassure them to see the Stormqueen, their secular guide and protector.”
It was Ael’s turn to hesitate. I had the impression she didn’t care for religious services, given the lack of interaction she had with her cousin.
“Not tonight, I am weary. But… very well, I shall join you tomorrow.” The queen ceded to the imploring look on the white-clad priestess’ face. “If you will promise to keep the prayers short.”
“Of course, as you wish. But… if I may be so crude as to speak directly… is the act of worship difficult, my Queen?” Thessaly asked, wings drooping sadly. “I know your highness reveres the Goddess as much as any of we, her daughters.”
“Must we discuss this now, Thessaly?” Ael muttered quietly.
“A thousand pardons, please forgive this foolish servant her indiscretion – as you say, this is not the moment for so personal a question.”
Ael frowned, but gave a nod. “We will speak more tomorrow.”
~~~
Faron keep was modest, befitting the frontier nature of the human settlement, on the southern edge of Bellwood.
Despite its small scale, the interior reflected the wealth and proclivities of the Baron, fitting for the master of a town of adventurers and mercenaries.
Lyanna sighed as she walked under yet another monster trophy mounted on the wall; the three ‘fists’ of a geopod. To judge by the home he kept Baron Faron must have been a remarkable monster hunter, yet she had never heard of the Baron venturing out into the Bloodsucking Forest.
Lyanna had never met the Baron before; not this one at least. Baron Faron the senior had retired last year – due to some strife with the royal court, according to the rumors. That left his middle-aged eldest son to manage the family lands. From what little she knew the new lord of the region was decent enough, but had a weakness for food and drink. By the looks of the place he had a weakness for trophies too.
The corridor she and her party had entered was lined with the crossed blades of razorfly legs. At the far end a pair of guards flanked a grand double door.
They were shown inside after a short wait, to find themselves in a room that would have fitted a retired adventurer like guildmaster Bomond more than a baron like Lord Faron. The room was ostensibly a study, but weapons and armor were scattered about in lieu of decorations.
On the far wall a huge painted map of the forest and mountains hung, artfully if improbably decorated, magical monsters cavorting about in the many blank spaces. The display of astonishing wealth took second place to a pair of stuffed ogre heads, flanking the jagged humanoid skull of a giant formorian, recognizable for its spikes, curled horns and grotesque elongated jaws overflowing with razor sharp teeth.
Guildmaster Bomond himself stood by the baron’s desk, while Baron Huress Faron reclined in an oversized chair decorated with ivory and monster leather. Despite being large enough to fit Lyanna and Marcus both, the baron filled the seat amply.
“Welcome, brave adventurers of the fine town of Faron,” boomed the lord, with a jovial tone. “My thanks for coming to meet me – regrettably it wouldn’t do for a man of my stature to be seen travelling to and from the Guild. I’m sure you understand.”
Lyanna suspected it was more an issue of girth than stature, but behind the baron Bomond met her eye insistently. She gave a polite nod.
“Oh come now, don’t be too stiff. I’m not like those nobles in the capital. We don’t stand on ceremony here in the keep – if anything we’re quite informal! Bomond was stuffy like that at first too; worried I’d take offence and lop off his head I dare say! But he’ll tell you I’m not so fierce as all that. Right Bomey?”
The guildmaster stiffened as the baron clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder. “As you say, my lord,” he nodded.
The baron frowned. “Come now, come now, I told you didn’t I? Just Hugh will do between us.”
Bomond seemed to know better than to argue, and so the baron went on after a moment.
“Now then, I hear you had a rather unfortunate run-in with a monster in the woods the other day. Nasty business by the sound of it, but then was it not for that you wouldn’t be here, eh?! Perhaps you could repeat to me what you told old Bomey. We must be certain of the facts before we act rashly after all.”
Once Lyanna had retold the tale once more the baron gave a sage nod.
“A mimic to be sure then. How marvelous!” He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “And the dirt-dweller can confirm that? This, Gar was it?”
“The dwarf Gar can back up all of this, yes. But I don’t know where he is now. He paid our cancellation fee then left the Guild yesterday.”
“No matter then, the word of three human adventurers – and the renowned Thunderbolt party no less – that shall more than suffice!”
“Then we’re going after it?!” Marcus asked eagerly.
“That we are my boy!” the Baron beamed. “I have here a letter from the capital, brought this morning by Athos, my fastest hawk. I suspect you will share my excitement at the contents – by dear Bomey’s personal request his old party leader has agreed to lead our little expedition!”
“Jalera? The diamond-ranker?!” Marcus blurted out.
The Baron chuckled, clapping his hands together. “The very same! It seems even she is not immune to the siren song of a good hunt! Of course the rewards likely had something to do with it too.”
The baron frowned as he saw the look on Lyanna’s face. “Ah, my dear, there’s no cause to worry. You and your Thunderbolt shall still have the greatest accomplishment. No-one else has yet been able to track a mimic down after all! You… can do it, can’t you?”
“Of course my lord,” Lyanna said quickly. Fat and jolly though the baron appeared, she didn’t care for the look in his eye at the question.
“Then all is well!” he proclaimed. “We shall depart in three days – got to move quick or the blighter’ll give us the slip, hm? Never fear, I’m hiring on plenty of adventurers. We’ll have my leal soldiers too – that should boost our ranks by a solid hundred! I’d bring more but we can’t pillage every last sword from the town, eh?”
Lyanna was sure she must have misunderstood. “Excuse me my lord, but did you say you will be joining us in person?”
“Oh naturally, it promises to be a jolly grand adventure, this mimic hunt of yours!”
“The… mimic is highly dangerous your lordship. So is the forest. It might be… prudent to leave the task to your men and the adventurers,” she suggested.
“Oh come now, not you too?” the rotund baron asked with a sigh. “Bomey already gave me what for about it, but my mind’s made up! I may be a great ball of lard – oh no, I am, I am, don’t deny it – but in my chest too beats the heart of an adventurer! I bear the spirit of an explorer, even though I may not look it! Why I mean to see this mimic even if it kills us!”
Lyanna bit her lip to hold in a retort at his use of ‘us’… but it seemed there would be no talking him out of it. On the bright side, if the baron was coming in person then he would be implicitly taking great responsibility for the endeavor.
If they were to succeed he would claim the greatest share of the glory of course, but if they were to fail it wouldn’t be so simple for him to push all the blame onto the adventurers when he had been the one in personal command.
“Besides, I don’t see there being any danger. The Solar Church is sending a contingent of healers, and we shall have Jalera in the vanguard! I hear she’s even recruiting another 500 trusty sellswords in the capital too – I authorized any expense and it seems the Lastborn were between jobs! Thank heavens they have their own armor, else we’d have the local smithies cleared out and then some, eh?!”
“As you say, your lordship,” Lyanna agreed.
She had little choice.
~~~
Most of the harpies I talked to after the departure ceremony were confident of a swift victory, but even if they were right that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any more dangers. Arcadia was a dangerous place after all, full of monsters and deceptively tasty cursed fruits.
I might not have been able to join Arawn and her warriors flying south to battle, but even with the bulk of the Valkyries away I still had training to do – Karlya in the morning and Shukra in the afternoon.
With Karlya we alternated between sparring and taking hits. The former was going well, while I still had a ways to go with the latter. I had a clearer idea of how I needed to use my mana now, but actually making it do what I wanted wasn’t going so well. It would take time.
The same was true for trying to hold it in, but Shukra was less understanding. With my essence flooding out as it was I was lit up like a beacon to anyone sensitive to mana.
The two of us were in the library and Agytha was sat just outside on a balcony with a book – my idea of a compromise, if she really had to wait around for me. There were no nobles about today.
“Hopeless.” The witch shook her head.
“I’m doing my best it’s just hard.”
She cocked her head at me.
“No really, I am!”
“Too dense.”
“Hey, the teacher shouldn’t blame the student,” I protested.
“Mana too thick. Heavy. Unnatural.”
“Oh, right…. Is my mana really that different from other people?”
Shukra held out a hand. It took me a moment to understand, but I took it in mine. As she released her essence I could feel it moving against my skin, slipping over my fingers like an ephermeral waft of air.
“It’s light and gentle,” I remarked. “Is that what it’s like for everyone?”
“Harpy mana.” Somehow she looked pleased despite her blank expression.
“So all harpies have mana like that?”
“Varies, mostly similar.”
“Is there anyone with mana like mine?”
Shukra mused for a moment, looking up at the shelves she so carefully tended as if for guidance.
“Wyrm of Defilement?” she suggested with her typical delicacy.
“So… I’m guessing they’re not even humanoid are they?” I asked, deflated. I was getting compared to some sort of gross worms now.
“The Leviathan,” she clarified.
I continued to look blank.
“Sea monster. Killed champion of Thalassa.”
“Oh great, I remind you of a sea monster who everyone hates,” I said with only a little melodrama.
“Just your mana.”
“Thanks, I guess. Have you actually… met that thing?”
She shook her head and pointed over at the shelves with her tail. Presumably that meant she had only read about it.
“What about this champion of Thassa? Who’s that?”
“Thalassa. Champion had goddess’ blessing.”
“Were they… a normal human? From one of the human countries?”
She tilted her head. It was hard to ask what I wanted to without giving away my own lies.
“I mean, they were an ordinary person in the world before they got her blessing? They didn’t die and get reborn or something crazy like that?”
“Probably.”
“How did they get her blessing then?”
“Didn’t read that. Now spells.”
At her prompting we moved onto practicing spells, for which purpose we relocated to the Valkyries’ training arena. We were trying out some more powerful magical effects and Shukra didn’t want anything happening to the library.
For the present I was limited to simple spells which could be cast purely via brute force by speaking an incantation – anything requiring more control and precision was still beyond me. Nonetheless, that gave me options I hadn’t enjoyed in any of my past encounters.
Offensive Harpy magic was mostly focused around using ‘elemental’ attacks like fireballs, blades of wind and the like, and I could now recreate simple versions of each. There were also spells to create water, but attacks like cutting a target with a water jet appeared to be more advanced magic. The best I could do was hose people down aggressively.
Shukra seemed impressed that I was able to reproduce every low level spell she suggested without any ‘affinity’ problems, but she explained I would probably discover my magical strengths and weaknesses once I moved beyond pure brute force, and started casting more elaborate spells.
Even if I couldn’t actually produce magic that was too intricate yet, I was still getting a feel for the more esoteric rules behind how incantations in various magical languages worked. Some of my experiments had even succeeded.
I was thrilled to see my taciturn instructor’s jaw drop as I conjured a flow of healing water. It spilt out on the needlegrass underfoot, the blades growing visibly longer as the sparkling liquid soaked into the soil.
“How?!” Shukra demanded.
My grin was probably rather obnoxious, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Well, I was trying out some different terms after seeing my handmaidens running a bath for me. It turns out that ‘water of life’ fits right in to the basic incantation for water and the spell still works. It’s harder to cast though, I could feel some resistance and it uses a ton more mana. I still have plenty though.”
Shukra immediately chanted my revision of the spell for herself, but I could hear subtle differences in her intonation for the new term. As mana gathered in her palm the transmutation was… well I couldn’t really understand transmutation so well yet but it definitely wasn’t the same.
The water she produced was laden with supernatural essence, but it had none of the magical properties mine did.
Of course I had cheated by using a hundred times too much mana and my absurd linguistic knowledge.
The scrawny crow-like harpy grinned, moving muscles I doubted had been used in years. She even looked me in the eye for once.
“Amazing! Good job!”
I blushed at the unexpected praise.
“Thank you! It’s really nothing special though. I, uh, got lucky.”
After that we continued practicing, both of us casting spells this time.
Shukra seemed determined to produce ‘water of life’ for herself. Perhaps it was her pride as my magic teacher.
~~~
Earl Educar Randire took a sip of tea. He savored the refined blend on his tongue as the harpist across the garden played a tranquil melody just for him.
The First Minister of Bellwood was afforded certain luxuries. That included use of the secluded flower garden within the royal castle. It reminded him of the enchanting woodland meadows of his home province, if a little shorter on trees.
He needed the soothing comfort as he read the reports from the court spymaster.
One was a note on peasant unrest, nothing new but always a headache. If enough of the fools got it into their heads to rebel it could bring the country grinding to a halt, rendering them powerless against their neighbors, or even sending noble heads rolling.
It had happened before. Veneto was a warning to the world about just what could happen if the nobles were careless.
Otherworlders were like plague bearers; their ideas a blight on stable, decent society.
Randire thanked the gods that they were inflicted on Arcadia rarely. Let there be no more Venetos.
He jotted a note to the spymaster to arrest the peasant ringleader as a demon agent. It didn’t much matter if it was true, the rumor would be enough to sow doubt and discredit notions of rebellion. If it came to it, replacing a human corpse with a demon one wasn’t hard. As an extra precaution, he ordered additional agents into the beastfolk districts. That should prove ample distraction.
The other report he had to deal with was far worse.
He read it through again, carefully taking in every word as if hoping they might change. They remained obstinately immutable. With the latest information that their agents had gathered there could be no doubt – the demon nation of Ersetu was preparing for war once again.
It was not yet clear if that meant an attack on the human powers, but knowing the demons it was likely. That meant Bellwood was at risk – and yet their finest adventurer Jalera was taking one of their best mercenary companies south on some monster hunt at a time like this!
Randire wondered if this was some demon plot, to draw forces away from the capital with the promise of illusory riches, but it seemed farfetched. The greater likelihood was simply that the buffoonish Baron Faron had jumped at the possibility of finding a new monster and playing adventurer.
The Baron house should have been keeping their heads down after the last time they clashed with him… but it seemed avarice and stupidity were in no short supply in the frontier town. Faron had even been told that tensions were mounting with the demons once again, but still he was plundering vital military forces from the capital.
For Randire it just confirmed his belief that people moved only by self-interest and personal gain.
He accepted that, even respected it. It was the way of the world, the survival of the strong. What he couldn’t accept was stupidity that didn’t even benefit anyone.
Of course that presumed that the expedition would fail. It galled Randire all the more to think that Baron Faron could be successful. If the rumor was true and adventurers in the South had spotted a living mimic it would be a triumph for the baron and for Bellwood as a whole to find it.
It was a once in a century event. A living mimic would be a prize every nation would want to examine. Everyone involved in the capture would be showered in glory and rewards.
But none of those rewards would fall upon Educar Randire. No, they would go to the fat fool who was arranging the expedition, and to the grimy adventurers who stumbled upon the monster.
Randire would have shrugged that off normally – the Faron family was a mere line of barons – it was unseemly for the head of an earl’s house to be seen to feud with them. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. The Lastborn were a prestigious mercenary company, and Jalera herself was worth a whole company on her own, even if she was only an adventurer.
If the expedition was a success there would be nothing the First Minister could do but grind his teeth as he handed out awards and rewards.
But should they fail to bring back the mimic after draining such important forces from the capital during so a dangerous time…. Randire grinned to himself as he imagined it.
Heads would roll, oh yes, and not just that of the whale of a baron.