“Look on the bright side,” Tem tells me twenty minutes later, speaking with far more cheer than the situation calls for. “This is an even better mana-control exercise than I thought it would be.”
I pause in my efforts to freeze the lock off the door and give him a flat look. We wolfed down some of Tem’s rations, including an energy bar that accelerates mana regeneration, then waited until I’d recovered sufficient mana to activate [Heat Manipulation]. I’m sweating with the effort of directing heat away from the door, but I still can’t drop the temperature cold enough to shatter the locking mechanism like I’d planned. There’s something strangely mana-resistant about the gray-blue metal that I can’t quite pierce with my Skill, and I’m starting to lose my patience.
“Hurry,” Tem cautions. He’s getting antsy, pacing two or three steps either way, pivoting, and repeating his truncated circuit in the cramped labyrinth hallway. The light from his little mana torch bobs and weaves next to him, giving me a headache as I try to focus on the task at hand.
I groan and lean my head against the smooth stone wall next to the door. “You said I’d enjoy the fruits of my labor more if I earned it. You said it shouldn’t take more than a moment or two, if I put my mind to it. I should have known better.”
Tem laughs sheepishly. “The principle is sound. No one could have known how long it would take you.”
“Couldn’t you just use a high-level [Expert Scout] ability to infiltrate? I saw what you did to [Lieutenant] Cassius’s door. Why do you always have to make me do things the hard way?”
“Hm. Probably, but it would take a lot of power, given its durability,” Tem admits. “I’d have to break the lock to get us inside, and that defeats the purpose of stealth. What if it’s alarmed?”
I crane my neck and look at him over my shoulder, my face all scrunched up. “You’re that afraid of this Captain?”
Tem nods solemnly, surrounded by the glowing halo of the mana torch. And beyond that, nothing but darkness. “Remember the wraith lord? He’s like an under-officer to the Captains.”
“A wraith Captain is higher-ranked than a Lord? That makes no sense,” I protest. “Who comes up with these rankings? Are they just making it up as they go?”
“Certainly sounds like it,” Tem says. He glances both ways down the dark corridor as a sheen of mana covers his eyes. “Regardless, they’re not to be messed with. If we do encounter one, I may be able to delay him while you flee, but it’s not a sure thing.”
“Aren’t you an expert assassin?”
“That’s a common misconception since I’m good at neutralizing enemy [Mages], but no. I’m not primarily a killer. Most of my Skills are focused on not leaving a trace, ferreting out spies, or tracking a target of interest. You’ve read my book. You know this.”
I rub my temples, trying to get rid of the headache. “Yeah. I know you’re not primarily a combatant, even though you can fight. I’m just grumpy because my head hurts.”
Tem winces. “Sorry, Nuri.”
“It’s fine. I’ll stop complaining.
I look at the annoyingly-resilient lock on the door, then back at Tem. With a great force of will, I shift my mindset. Tem is helping me out, and I’ve been prickly at every turn lately—he doesn’t really deserve it. If he’s holding back a Skill, then he has a good reason for it. I need to be more positive, and learn to pull my own weight.
“I’ll do my best to open it,” I promise. I buckle back down to work, watching the flows of energy with my [Lesser Manasight] activated. Yet no matter how much I pour into the lock, the door seems to devour it, like the maw of a ravenous void beast. I keep working on the lock, no matter how stubborn the metal is against the cold, and mana spools out of me at an alarming pace. I’m so lost in thought that I flinch when Tem taps my shoulder.
“Listen, Nuri, you’ve given it a good try,” Tem says, his voice tired. The praise is nice to hear, though. “You’re almost out of mana, though, and we’ve been here for at least half an hour. Why don’t you take a break? As I said, I have another method I can try. It’s messy, and might draw more attention than I’d like, but it’s effective. If I do it, then I’m just about drained. I won’t have my abilities for a fight. Do you really want to take that risk?”
“Good thing you’re not a fighter,” I say. Sarcasm seems preferable to fear, so I’m glad that Tem gets my brand of humor.
“True. We’d need a Second Threshold [Warrior] to stand a chance.”
“You’ve convinced me already,” I say, chuckling as I scoot to the side. I flop down in the dust of the tunnel floor, feeling like a wrung-out dishrag. Tem is welcome to take charge
Tem waves me back a little farther, puts his hand on the door handle, and takes a deep breath. When he exhales, he gathers the energy and blasts a hole as big as my fists clenched together right through both the lock and the handle. Drops of sizzling metal run down the side of the doorframe like melting wax trailing down a candle.
“Subtle and elegant solution, just like me,” he says, hooking his sword through the hole in the door and swinging it open while I stare in shock.
“No alarm went off. Should be safe to enter. Behold the wealth of the abyssal monarchs!” Tem declares, gesturing grandly at the armory.
I rush forward into the room, giddy at the thought of treasure. Heavy-duty metal stands designed for weapons hold heavy halberds chased in gold, standing vertically in an array like [Soldiers] at attention. On a table near me, a bundle of flanged maces made of some dark metal I don’t recognize warp the light. I shudder just looking at them, and I turn away in case they’re actually dangerous to my senses. A dozen crossbows without any discernible winch or arming mechanism hang on the wall above the maces.
“Who uses all these weapons?” I ask as an uncomfortable thought strikes me.
Tem’s jolly demeanor fades, replaced by the cold, efficient professionalism of a longtime Royal [Scout]. “Labyrinths are where incursions are staged. I’ve disrupted or sabotaged more of them than I care to remember.”
“Hm. You’re saying that our realm is in constant danger? I thought most Rifts were of the Lesser variety. Don’t the [Guardians] keep most Incursions at bay?”
“Life is always dangerous,” Tem says noncommittally. I roll my eyes at his evasiveness, and return my attention to cataloging the armor and armaments of the outpost armory.
A row of shields on my right positively gleam in my mana senses, and two suits of armor at the other side of the room light up like a bonfire when I fully activate [Lesser Manasight]. I’m halfway across the room, ready to claim them for my own, before Tem stops me with a hand on my upper arm.
“Give me one moment to check that they don’t have any active defenses,” Tem says, his face grim. “Then we’ll take as much as we can carry.”
I pause, suspicion making my stomach churn. “This is all right to just take? You’re sure they can’t track us if we steal their stuff? If this is how they equip themselves for Incursions, then I can’t imagine that they’ll look kindly on intrusion and theft. What if they move up their invasion timelines?”
Tem chuckles. “Nuri, I appreciate your caution. You’re right; they won’t like us taking their stuff. But what else should we do? Flee this place forthwith and return to our homes, where we shall quiver in fear underneath our cozy blankets?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “When you put it that way, I sound pretty paranoid, huh?”
“Vigilance is good. I appreciate that you’re not letting greed blind you,” Tem says.
I rub my temples with my fingertips, still struggling to shake the headache from trying to freeze the lock. “Are the defenses active or not?”
Tem purses his lips, scanning the room again. A glimmer of mana lights up his eyes as he examines the wards and looks through the weapons one by one. A moment later, he nods. “You’re fine. Gear up, Nuri.”
“Any suggestions?” I ask hesitantly. There are so many options that I barely know where to begin. I can’t carry more than a few items, unless Tem assists with his strange storage Skills, but narrowing down my choices is already throwing me into a mild panic. What if I make a poor selection? What if I pass up something incredible because I don’t know what I’m looking at?
Tem wanders around the room, poking at weapons. He hefts a sword, tests the balance, and sets it back down with a grimace. “Hard to say what’s best for you. I doubt you’ll find a rod or paddle or shears to assist with glass blowing and sculpture. Armor is an option, since it’s all enchanted against mana intrusion. The labyrinth walkers tend to rely on other methods for their damage. Mana is a treat to them, a source of vitality and wealth. They feed on it, but they don’t wantonly use it in battle.”
I put down the dagger I’ve been examining. “Is that why they invade? Our realm is, what, like a garden they want to harvest?”
“If only that were all,” Tem murmurs. His eyes take on the glassy look of a man lost in memories he’d rather forget, and for once I have the good sense not to interrupt him with some irreverent or irrelevant statement.
He shakes himself at last, walking over with two weapons in a hand. “Do you gravitate toward the sword, spear, or shield?”
“I prefer answers,” I say quietly. “Why, exactly, do Incursions happen? What’s got you so spooked?”
Tem’s smile is brittle. “Tell me, Nuri, where does mana collect in greatest densities?”
“Hm . . . within our mana pools?” I say after some consideration. “I assume I can discard the Rifts, since they’re coming through them.”
“Precisely,” Tem says, his tone frosty. “They’re not here to harvest herbs. They invade to set up abattoirs from the abyss.”
I scoff at his pompous phrasing. “So, what, we’re just sheep headed for slaughter? I’m not keen on offering up my throat to [Butchers] from the void.”
“Then I ask again. Sword or spear?”
My gaze flickers to the wicked edges of the elegant halberds and brutal battle axes on the near wall. “Not an axe?”
“Do you have any training with the axe?” Tem asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t seen you use that weapon before.”
“No, but they look so awesome. Imagine me at the front of a band of [Warriors], swinging my axe like a [Woodsman] chopping down a grove.” I break off to whistle in appreciation at my own imagined fantasy. “Talk about heroic.”
“Sometimes I doubt that you only have two Skills,” Tem says with a laugh. “In fact, I’m almost certain that you have a third Skill that requires you to seek out greater and greater follies, but somehow keeps you alive through it. For someone without any defensive abilities or armor, you sure find yourself on the front line an awful lot.”
“Must be destiny,” I reply with a shrug.
Tem nods along. “Yep. Only way to explain why you’re not dead a dozen times over.”
“C’mon! It’s not that bad,” I protest. “I’ve only run into jaguars, wraiths, and now this Rift with its behemoths and crabs and weird lizard beings. It’s really not that—fine, I see your point.”
“Armor is a good idea,” Tem reiterates with a wry chuckle.
I break down and laugh with the [Scout]. “Yeah, I see your point. Remember, though, I’m making my own set. Ezio’s commission.”
Tem brightens. “Right! Out of glass.”
“Speciality glass,” I correct him, heat rising to my face.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“I think it’s promising,” Tem says, clarifying he’s not making fun of the project. “Rakesh discussed the research with me. But in the meantime, you could use some survivability.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” I admit. I stare at the battle axes for a long moment before I whirl away and rummage through the table at the back of the room. I don’t know what I’ll find to help me yet, but Tem’s advice seems solid.
Glass armor has merit, based on the material science we’ve investigated. Ember thinks it’s too difficult for us at our current advancement, but she’s traditional that way—plus, she’s not exactly willing to turn down Ezio’s generous gift. She doesn’t disbelieve me, since she’s used the enchanted swords on the studio wall. If both she and Tem think we’re a long way off from succeeding, then maybe I should consider armor.
“All right. I’m going to start collecting what I can carry. I don’t have much space left, what with that Rhodium ore in my storage. If you don’t want to pick over the leftovers, then I suggest you stop daydreaming and start packing.”
“Sorry, got distracted,” I reply, suddenly intensely fascinated by digging through the tools and instruments on the table. Maybe I can find something useful for the studio. I’ve always wanted better shears and tongs, or perhaps an enchanted wand or staff that I can use as a pontil once I graduate to mana-imbuing.
“Suit yourself,” Tem says. He clangs a few shields together, grimaces, and discards them to search for something else.
I sort the tools into piles, not by type, but rather by level of helpfulness to my crafting. A set of blue-steel needles and black thread go flying as I toss them off the table. Moments later, they’re joined by shaving spokes and woodworking tools that I’ll never use. All the big hammers and oversized tongs that a blacksmith might use for repairs go off to the side, until a thought strikes me.
I pick up the nicest hammer and tongs, checking with my [Lesser Manasight] to confirm their value, and walk over to the armor side. “Tem? Could we bring back an enchanted pair for Mikko? He’s done a lot to help me, and I want to find a way to pay him back.”
“I’ll have to ditch a shield or two, but that’s a kind thought,” Tem says, agreeing readily. He runs his fingers through his short, tightly-curled white hair, and shakes his head. “I respect a gesture like that. Generosity is an admirable trait.”
“But it’s not an action that you would take,” I say, suddenly second-guessing myself.
“Not a chance!” Tem says. “The only way to get ahead in these sorts of situations is to grab everything you can for yourself.” He pauses, his jaw clenching. “Now, it was different when I had a team. We looked after each other. Like you and your friends. But it’s a whole new world now. A poorer one, if you ask me.”
“You’ve still got to tell me what happened with your team,” I say, hoping that he’ll actually provide answers for once. As usual, Tem says nothing, but he doesn’t look quite as sad as he has in previous conversations. Maybe that means he’s warming up to me and I can get some information out of him soon.
I don’t even know why I’m so intent on pumping him for details. It’s not like I can actually do anything about his situation if he has been pushed out of favor. In fact, tying my career to his is probably the worst thing I can do if I have ambitions. I’m committed now, though, and there’s no turning back. For better or worse, Tem and I are friends. I’m not planning on betraying his trust. That’s not the kind of man I want to become.
“Nuri, don’t forget to pick something for yourself before we run out of time. That lock I broke will be a dead giveaway that we’re here. After all the work you’ve done, you’ve earned a reward. You need something to get ahead; don’t short change yourself. But do it quickly.”
I lick my dry, cracked lips, and nod at him to show I’m listening. “Help me find a staff in that case. Do you think they have any enchanted ones here that I could substitute as a new pontil in the hot shop? I could also use an etching tool. I won’t need it until I can imbue, but I’ll be prepared ahead of time.”
This could be my secret weapon for the glass competition!
“That’s actually not a bad idea, Tem says. “But don’t lock yourself in a corner. You still need weapons better than what you have currently. You’re not particularly quick or stealthy, so dagger work probably is not your friend. You need more reach on the battlefield, which normally would mean the spear, but I don’t know if you prefer wielding a sword.”
I feel my face light up at the thought of a sword, but then I remind myself that I have two masterwork swords back at the studio. Tem seems to think a spear is better. “It’s hard to tell. I’ve used practice swords, but I’m not great with them. Most of my training is with a staff when I’m battling the Iron Lunk. A staff handles a lot like a spear. I do prefer the reach.”
“But there’s something noble about swinging a sword?” Tem interrupts, grinning at me.
“Yep. It makes me feel like a hero from a story. How am I supposed to pass up that kind of opportunity?”
Tem groans. When he speaks, his voice is soft and sad. “Nuri, you know what happens to heroes.”
I think I already know his answer, but I bite anyway. “Tell me. What happens to heroes?”
“They’re remembered fondly.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. There’s a funeral. Bards write songs. It’s a big to do. But since when is risk a good enough reason not to try hard things?”
Tem swings a sword around experimentally before tossing it into the discard pile. “Can’t say I entirely disagree, or else we wouldn’t be in the middle of a Rift right now. Still, you’re taking your life into your own hands. At least be smart about it.”
“I already agree with you. I’m just giving you a hard time,” I say, looking over another few spears. “A spear is my best bet.”
Tem shakes his head, although I can’t tell if he’s disapproving of the next weapon, or disagreeing with my statement. “No, a spear is just a stopgap while you lack power. Your best bet? If you improve and build up your glass Skills, then your mana control becomes your best threat. I’ve seen high-level [Papermakers] who could slice enemies to shreds with the worst paper cuts of all time, or wrap them up in endless layers of parchment and suffocate them.”
“You’re spinning tales now!” I laugh.
“Hmph. No respect. I give you the truth, and you throw it in my face,” Tem grumbles, but he’s wearing his mysterious smile again and I know he hasn’t taken any offense.
I lean heavily on my elbows amid the haphazard mess of tools and rejected weapons on top of the work table. “That’s the long term goal. But you told me a minute ago that choosing a weapon is smart.”
“It is,” Tem insists. “That doesn’t mean you’re always going to wield a spear or sword. If you walk this dual path of crafting and fighting, then we have to prepare you both for the short and long term. If you don’t want armor, and you insist on being in melee range, then a spear is good for now.”
“And long term?” I prompt him.
Tem joins me looking over the spears, tossing aside several that don’t meet with his approval. He says, “If you continue to progress under my tutelage, then your other Skills will make you revered even in the Capital. I can guarantee that.”
“That would be amazing. Thank you, Tem.” I choke up a bit. “You’ve helped me more than I expected. All this time I’ve been dreaming of becoming an adventurer, but you’ve shifted my perspective. I can keep on the path of the [Glassworker], but that doesn’t mean all I can do is make plates and bowls. Thanks for broadening my horizons.”
Tem shuffles awkwardly. “Gonna make me blush, Nuri. You’re the one who put in the hard work. That led to you gaining a second Skill. As long as you keep practicing glasswork and mana control long term, then you’ll gain more Skills. I can help direct your evolutions, if you trust me. Remember, you’re not even at your First Threshold yet, so just relax. You have time.”
I smirk. “As long as we live, you mean?”
He rolls his eyes, then discards another couple of spears. “We’ll live. But, hey, keep this in mind: unlike these garbage weapons, there’s no such thing as good Skills and bad Skills. No, there’s simply the will to act. If you have enough creativity to apply what you have to the world around you, then you can make any Skill ’good’ with practice. Don’t give up.”
I nod eagerly, accepting his wisdom like a desert plant finally experiencing rain. What he says makes a ton of sense, and I can already imagine the amazing future opening up in front of me if I follow his advice.
“Now let’s find a good, solid spear. Those weapons aren’t going to pick themselves up,” Tem chides.
In short order, we test out the few remaining spears in the row. Tem discourages me from taking a glaive or any of the assorted polearms. I finally find a spear I’m comfortable with; the haft feels familiar in my hands, reminding me of my practice staff, but the blade is a long, broad, triangular bit of masterwork that even Tem admits will serve me well and hold up under repeated acts of violence.
“Thanks again. I appreciate your help.”
“Needing guidance is the prerogative of the young,” Tem says with a wink. He rumbles with a deep belly laugh, and starts to open his mouth to say something else when his eyes go wide with shock. His head whips around toward the open door, and he hisses.
“Run!” Tem roars, charging toward the exit.
We sprint for the broken door, but a slab of iron slams home, blocking the exit. Pulsing lights and an ear-splitting siren explode around us, sounding an alarm, and we skid to a stop.
Tem’s dark face goes ashen, a sickly pallor under his hale, aristocratic features. “We have to get out, Nuri. The Captain is on his way. If we’re caught in here—no, better not to give you nightmares.”
“Blast it open,” I shout, panic spiking my voice to shrill levels.
“You have to help me,” Tem says, drawing his enchanted blade and rushing toward the exit again. “Use everything you have; I’m out of my aces for a few more hours at least. I warned you about this possibility.”
I run beside him, scrambling across the stone floor of the armory, and put my hand against the cold metal of the thick security door. My [Lesser Manasight] flares to life, and I sink my perception deep into the slab of iron.
“Not mana resistant?” I conclude, but I glance at Tem for confirmation, not trusting my budding Skill and its lesser prefix.
When he nods, I slam my willpower against the iron, spreading my influence through the metal as fast as I can bear. The pressure of pushing mana so deeply into the massive slab burns in my channels, but I grit my teeth and endure. When my mana reaches the saturation point, I rip the heat out of the huge iron door, stealing as much energy as I can. I gasp at the strain on my mana pathways.
The intense freeze leaves the security door brittle and unmoving on a scale so tiny that I can’t see it with my naked eye. Everything vibrates at an infinitesimally small, invisible level, though I can’t see it—only feel in my mana senses. That movement disappears in the door, at the cost of my entire mana pool.
Reeling on my feet, I gesture toward Tem, too exhausted and shaky for words. He slams an enchanted mace into the frozen-over door, and a crack radiates out from the point of impact. With a grunt, he smashes the weapon into the supercooled metal again. Each hit chips off more and more metal. Tem’s final blow shatters the security barrier, sending sparks flying as a flange breaks off the mace from the force of the collision.
He shoves me through the gap in the crumbling rubble, then grabs another mace before joining me back in the tunnels and taking off at a run just shy of a sprint. “No time to waste, Nuri! Follow the sound of my footsteps; I can’t risk keeping the light going.”
True to his word, Tem’s mana usage cuts off. I run blindly, my new spear out ahead of me in a loose grip in an awkward attempt to keep from smashing face-first into a stone wall. The tension builds as I fight off the panic of running through the darkness. Despite my best efforts to tamp it down, the fear of a high-speed collision eats away at me, fraying my ragged nerves.
“Halt,” Tem whispers harshly, and I stagger to a standstill, groping around for the wall. I touch the dressed stone of the labyrinth tunnel, and my whole body sags against the wall with relief. My chest tightens, and my heart skips a few beats, thudding erratically as the closed off spaces and the terror of pursuit hit me full force.
Tem grabs my shoulder, making me jump. He snaps out a command. “Give me your second glass ball. Hurry!”
A dozen questions ping around inside my mind, but I rip open my travel sack without arguing and find the ball. I shove it at him, connecting with his ribs, and he takes the glass globe from me with a grunt. My entire world lights up a moment later as he stuffs more mana into it than I ever expected it could hold without exploding, but since it’s not heat-aspected, the glass doesn’t shatter. Yet.
Tem tosses the glowing globe to the right, and I don’t even need my [Lesser Manasight] to follow its trajectory down a side tunnel. The mana bursts forth like the sun.
Tem tugs on my wrist, dragging me in the opposite direction. He picks up the pace, and we fairly fly along, unerringly avoiding the walls and turning down corridors I can’t even see. All I can figure is that he has some version of [Darkvision], or a [Scout] Skill that enables him to map out his path in a strange environment. I can’t remember his published Skills.
Time seems to lose its meaning as we dash through the darkness. I’m sucking wind, and the blood in my veins burns like etching acid, but I don’t dare stop. Anything that scares Tem by all rights ought to utterly terrify me. My muscles shake, quivering like gelatin, and my steps grow increasingly desperate and unsteady. I can’t stop. I have to keep going. I have to—
My right foot catches on the back of my left ankle, and I stumble, slamming down into the tunnel floor face-first and breaking Tem’s hold on my wrist. Blood bursts from my lower lip, hot and tangy with salt.
For a brief, horrifying moment, I’m convinced he’s going to leave me down here, alone in the dark.
Relief washes over me as I hear Tem retraces his steps. His robes rustle faintly as he stoops down next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nuri. I got carried away and forgot to set a pace you can maintain. We’re safe now. You can rest.”
“The Captain?” I finally manage to wheeze out in between gasps for air.
“Took the bait,” Tem confirms with a low, menacing chuckle. “It was a near thing. Luckily, mana is like catnip to those misbegotten sons of shadow.”
I roll over and sit up, groaning softly. “The exit? Is it far?”
Tem goes silent for a long moment, and I steel myself against the presumed bad news. Then he clears his throat, somewhat excessively, and a fresh suspicion pops into my mind. A moment later, he confirms my worst fears. “Change of plan. The Captain won’t be delayed by the mana orb for long. Once our deception is found out, the exit will become the primary target. It’s only logical, after all.”
“But we’re not the type of people who really do what’s logical,” I say with a sigh of resignation.
“No, we aren’t,” Tem says.
I catch my breath and stand to my feet, rolling my neck as I prepare for the next action. “So, what’s the score? More treasure?”
“We hit them where it counts,” Tem replies. “We’re going to shut down the labyrinth and cut off the void from this sector of reality.”
“Won’t that trap us here?” I ask in alarm. “You already said that would tear a hole. Don’t we need the labyrinths to anchor things?”
“Your lack of faith in my abilities wounds me, my young protege,” Tem says. “We’ll break into the control room, and then I’ll plant a timed charge. If we move quickly, we can get out first.”
“If,” I repeat back to him, my fingers already shaking with the rush of adrenaline.
Tem plows onward, ignoring my jitteriness. “We’ll make it. Just recover your stamina so you can keep up. Once the blasting charge detonates, we’ll take an alternate route to the exit, bypassing the Captain and crew heading to the control room. Then we’ll escape the labyrinth in the ensuing chaos.”
“That easy, huh? Blow things up, seal the portal, and sprint back to Silaraon?”
“Yep,” Tem says.
“Huh. One of your better plans," I laugh. "Count me in!”