Carson was bitterly cursing his impulsiveness. Why did he have to try and modify the weave? It had been perfect! His lances of stone didn’t need these stupid elemental fire cords.
The two small strands of fire were more work than all the others combined. Even though they changed little of the weave pattern, they fought and resisted his every mental touch, making the delicate work much more difficult. Carson was quickly learning to hate fire essence.
Even as he chided himself for including them, he knew why he’d done it–his gut. The ephemeral sensation that had guided him toward folding the original weave had returned right after he’d considered advancing his Conductor ability.
The ability had evolved after casting the hail-stone spell in the scalla den. That apparently being the journeyman level spell required, as it was his only triple element spell-weave, while ice-volt met the apprentice spell requirement. At least he thought so; Kuora wasn’t a world that spoon-fed you exact details.
Now that it was awakened, the Conductor affinity could be advanced again. To do that, he needed to repeatedly overload his essence channels, which didn’t sound pleasant. But in truth, Carson didn’t care. No matter how uncomfortable, he would do it because of the payoff.
Overloading his channels would increase their capacity, allowing him to cast more powerful spells. More importantly, when their volume increased twelve-fold, his ability would evolve again, and he'd never heard of anything evolving to become weaker. He wanted that evolution, and neither hell nor high water was going to stop him.
Relative to expanding his channels, he was pretty sure the scalla incident would not have qualified, even if the ability had been awakened. His channels hadn’t been overloaded during that fight; rather, his internal reserves had been drained. Being cut off from the ambient energy had been a painful lesson in not abusing Kuora's elemental power.
This new weave, Earthen Fury, as he was tentatively calling it, could definitely overload his channels. And, his gut was telling him that it needed to include these two tiny strands of elemental fire, although he had no idea why.
He folded the weave back, starting on the third layer. Although it certainly wasn't compliant, the fire essence seemed to fight him slightly less vehemently as he did.
Movement below caught his attention, but Carson dared not break his concentration for fear of losing the weave. Assuming it was his friends, he slowly lifted a hand with two fingers extended. He felt confident two minutes would be enough; with luck, they could get it for him.
----------------------------------------
Erramir and Val skidded to a stop below the walkway where Carson was absorbed in his spell weaving. The canyon in this area was heavy with dust from the collapsed buildings. “How’s it going up there, bud? We’re about out of tricks!” Erramir yelled up at his friend. The focused mage didn’t respond.
Val waited for only a second before yelling, “Carson!” Again, their mage didn’t show any sign of hearing her. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked Erramir a moment later. “Can he not hear us? It’s been more than ten minutes, hasn’t it? Shouldn’t he be done?”
She considered the hallway they'd first entered from–it was stone wreckage, there was no getting up to the third level going that way. Her eyes found the closest hall that accessed the back stairs–six units nearer to the tunnel where the orb was. Not ideal, she thought, then looked to Erramir.
Erramir's face lit with realization. “He probably got interrupted by that sonic attack and had to start over. Given how it affected you, I’m surprised he’s still here at all.”
Lifting the kite shield that he’d retrieved on their run back, Erramir jumped and waved it frantically in an attempt to get Carson’s attention. He rose to a couple yards shy of the walkway, then landed lightly. “I’ll bet he did something to keep from being interrupted again.”
Erramir’s jump worked. Carson raised a hand of acknowledgment with two fingers extended, then dropped it.
Val laughed to herself. “You two are Eskimo brothers. How could you possibly infer all that?”
It made total sense to Erramir, but before he could say so, the moment was cut short by the distant sound of steel grinding over the canyon floor. “Plan?” Val said urgently.
Erramir had been working on this during their run back, and he had an idea. His sword could hurt the orb, but he’d be cut down trying to fight it head-on because the plasma arms had too much reach. He would have to try and use Predator's Steps again.
Breaking for the pile of rubble, he pointed to a unit with a long second-level balcony on the other side of the canyon. He’d been in that unit–it had stairs. “Go up there and distract it again. The back hallway should be safe if it charges you. Hopefully, it'll take the bait, and I'll attack from behind.” He paused then added, “And don’t die!”
Val was already running. “Gee, thanks. Just don’t miss!”
Wondering how he’d miss; it was like hitting a minivan, he dropped his shield against the first bit of unbroken wall and scrabbled into the rubble.
A section of ceiling that had landed mostly vertical with minimal debris behind was a good hiding spot. He pulled his greatsword, flickering with blue essence, and crouched to wait.
----------------------------------------
Val flew through the dwelling and up the stairs to the second level, hoping that the monster hadn’t seen her enter. She slowed and crept onto the indicated balcony staying low. The grinding noise was much closer now, and she wanted to control precisely when she got its attention.
Peeking between thick, stone balusters, she saw the sphere advancing slowly, Plasma arms at the ready. It's damaged, she realized. The cut in its side was still there, but more importantly, one arm was higher than the other.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The orb started to move toward the area where Erramir was hiding. It was still a couple of units down, but her concern started to peak for another reason. It was rolling beneath Carson’s perch. Her heart began to hammer. If it detected him, what would it do? Could those arms reach him? She quired Virg, Throw?
His response came back eager,
She was confused for a brief moment, but he sent an impression of flying at the orb. That was clear enough, throw at the bad thing. The metallic construct didn’t sense Carson, and her near panic subsided, but it was headed toward Erramir’s hiding spot.
She tensed to jump up–
What? She replied frantically.
Looking back, the orb was nearly on top of Erramir’s position. Out of time, she realized and didn’t wait for his response. Springing up, Val hurled the staff, empowering it with everything she had.
The orb detected her and started to turn, then Virg struck with a resounding clang. Instantly a plasma arm came at him. She was about to pull Virg back when his meaning hit her: hold and fight.
She tightened a fist and jerked Virg sideways to strike at the main joint of the damaged arm.
The plasma arc caught only air, and VirginWood smashed into the vulnerable spot. It shrieked a tortured noise. Val smiled and began dancing about the balcony, flipping and twirling the staff with vicious ferocity, striking the joint area again and again.
In so close, the arms couldn’t reach Virg.
The staff hit a weakened point, the joint cracked audibly, and the arm drooped more, although the plasma did not extinguish. It spun entirely toward her and advanced quickly as the arms retracted.
She recalled Virg.
The orb rolled over the pipe. She readied herself to run, but stood firm, determined to hold its attention for as long as possible. Okay, Err, your turn.
----------------------------------------
Erramir felt like a predator. He leaped silently atop the fallen slab of ceiling, grim expression tight, and sword held high. He exploded at the enemy.
He hit the canyon floor, took a step, and leaped. He was gonna cleave it in two. Or near as was possible with a sword less than half as long as the orb was wide.
The sphere froze.
Erramir’s fierce confidence shriveled as right where he was aiming, a large circle sprang open, revealing a spinning disc that shone ominous purple.
Before he even recognized the full danger, his body moved to defend, pulling his sword down vertically in front of his chest and presenting the flat of the blade.
A mere five feet out, the disc shot toward him. It struck like a hammer–blue and violet sparks exploding from the impact. The sword slammed back into him, smashing his face as the blow violently reversed his momentum.
Erramir flew backward and crashed into the last bit of standing wall beside the debris. He slid to the ground in a daze, his head swimming from its collision with stone. With a substantial effort, he shifted his body to focus on healing, and his confusion began to fade. Val’s voice tried to cut through the fog, but his head wasn’t right yet.
Drunkenly, he stood and raised his sword into an unsteady defensive posture. The steel menace was already back over the pipe with spindly, plasma-tipped arms out. He thought Val had broken one of those, but it looked fine now.
"Help." He tried to yell but was pretty sure it came out as a whimper. Erramir set his resolve. He'd get his pound of flesh before he died.
----------------------------------------
Carson set his binding. The spell was a monster. He smiled wickedly and whispered, “Baaad ass.” The words were distant, muted by the weave that protected him from another sonic attack
Bright light exploded within the canyon, and he whipped his head up, dispelling the earplugs.
Thump! Something hit the wall right below him. He closed his mental grip around the weave, holding it fast without casting. Spindly arms tipped with yard-long arcs of plasma emerged from the sides of the massive machine as it closed toward the base of the building he sat atop.
Fear crowded his mind as he looked over the side. He saw Erramir, dazed and trying to rise.
Val appeared, tearing across the canyon toward his unsteady black-scaled friend. “Carson!” Val screamed. “Do something!”
Carson set his target and empowered the weave. A flood of all four elemental energies surged from the surroundings, passing through him to the cast point on the canyon ceiling far above.
Instantly, he could sense the projectile forming as stone was pulled, reshaped, and hardened.
A thin line of soul energy linked Carson and the point of launch, the distance was a strain, but he held it. Channeling the weave like this left him more vulnerable to attack, but it gave him the ability to chain-cast the same spell without lag.
The essence volume burned; he was definitely overloading his channels–which meant two things: his capacity would increase after this, and he'd get the Conductor damage multiplier.
Air essence pulsed up his channel and the first spike launched.
Carson grinned savagely as it closed on the orb with wicked speed. The machine stopped advancing, then it zipped back, avoiding the flaming, Volkswagen-sized stalagmite. The whole canyon trembled, and ten feet of flaming rock was left protruding from the ground where the orb would have been.
Carson almost didn’t care, the power in him begged to be used. Ok asshole, I can play like that.
Carson channeled a spike, launched it, then another, and another. His whole body burned with the essence flow, but he welcomed it, knowing that the burn would bring future strength.
He was in the zone now, and he had a plan, if the orb could dodge, he would have to narrow its attack options.
The sphere rolled to go around the stalagmite. Val stood with Erramir, helping to steady him, and holding Virg out defensively.
It drew closer to the flaming stone, then shifted, shying away from the magical fire. Then, as before, just before Carson's attack landed, it spun back.
In rapid succession, lances of flaming rock pierced the ground in a row alongside the first. Each one struck with the power of a locomotive, and dust rained through the ruin.
The orb turned to go around the row, but more spikes crashed down, forcing it back again. A crack ran under Carson’s right foot, and he took several steps left just as an arm-span of walkway teetered up dangerously.
Just to be safe, he shuffled further down the walkway, distantly hoping that his spell didn’t bring the whole place down.
Carson kept channeling, launching bolder-sized spikes one after another. The projectiles were shaped like cones and about four feet wide at the top. Within a minute, he’d built a wall of blazing stone, fifty feet long with a single gap, wide enough for his friends but too narrow for the orb, right in the center.
That done, he clenched the channel of power and held it tight. The elemental energies burned like molten metal through his entire body, sweat rolled down his face, dripping off his chin, and he had to blink it from his eyes.
Under his Elven Initiate's armor, he could feel it running in rivulets that tickled his arms, chest, and back.
Below him, Val and Erramir saw what Carson had done. Using the gap in the wall, they could evade the metallic monster indefinitely, and the orb would pay a steep price for any direct attempt to smash through the magically hardened wall.
A wide-eyed Erramir turned his head to Carson, then back to the wall. After a breath, he shouted, “Now what?”
Carson opened his mouth to reply and found it completely parched. He worked some moisture back in and croaked, “We need to pin it against the wall.”
Their foe had rolled down the canyon to Carson’s right, rounded the barrier, and was now accelerating toward his friends. Erramir and Val darted through the gap, and it raced past.
“Any ideas on how?” Erramir yelled from the other side.
Carson had an idea, but being wrung out and weak, his notion of penning it in wasn’t going to happen. He figured to have only a few more channeled spikes left, and one of those needed to kill the orb.
“I’ve only got a couple shots left. This is on you guys.” He took a couple deep breaths and leaned on the railing to fight off a wave of dizziness. “And hurry up, I’m not doing too good.”
Erramir could see the truth of Carson’s words; the mage was bright red, dripping with sweat, and looked ready to keel over. “We’re on it. Just hold on, bud!”