The sky remained thick with dark clouds, except for the distant horizon over the kingdom's center where the storm ended. We were heading towards our private port, located about five hundred meters from our house. Some lightning illuminated our path, and others allowed us to see the silhouettes of the kingdom's more distant mountains. Only a will-o'-the-wisp in the palm of my hand allowed us to see beyond a few meters, although it wasn't enough to dispel the surrounding darkness. I could handle the darkness, but the thunder unsettled me. It wasn't as loud as an hour before and now seemed to be moving away, but it still made me nervous. It always had. My master knew. He couldn't comprehend or tolerate irrational fears, like my fear of the sea or heights, but he had never judged me for my fear of thunder.
—Do you remember how overwhelmingly fast I told you light is? —my master asked—. Almost instantaneous on our insignificant planetary scale.
He made that comment as if the sky wasn't falling on us. His eyes were as indifferent as ever, but his gaze conveyed his affection. I nodded shyly and then made an effort to give him my full attention.
That night, he taught me how to calculate the distance at which thunder occurred. His method is based on counting the seconds from when you see a lightning bolt until you hear the thunder. It turns out that light is considerably faster than sound. You only need to know the speed of sound to calculate the distance of the thunder's origin, which also indicates the direction of the storm. He mentioned an exact number with some decimals, but I can only remember the rounded figure.
I focused on the environment to try to make my own calculations. That's when I discovered that about six seconds elapsed between each lightning bolt and its respective thunder, meaning the thunder was occurring just over two kilometers away. I felt like a frightened child given a stuffed animal to calm down. I hated feeling childish, but the "stuffed animal" was working.
My master went on to talk about Caisam's situation as we moved forward. The Life Link worked through shpabisshys, so it could be interrupted by means that stopped shpabisshys.
—Metal —I said.
—Metal —he repeated with the tone of a teacher pleased with his student's answer—. But it can't be just any metal; it has to be the most shpabisshys-insulating metal we know: mineltite. It is attributed with an evil nature simply because it prevents usshyers from using their gifts, but it has its own uses. Look at this invention. We've modified the Life Link's container to cover its exterior with a layer of mineltite, except for the circular part at the front. Notice how the flower goes out if I point it directly towards the sea? The Link does act through a signal between the flower and its owner, like an invisible thread connecting them, a signal linked to shpabisshys. That's why mineltite can "break" that thread when I point the Link towards the sea. Now see what happens if I point it in other directions.
My master began to turn the container, starting from the east, moving to the south, and finally achieving an effect in the west. The flower lit up again with the same pallor as before, as if the young man had come back to life. I understood what had happened and adopted a more dignified posture fitting my status as an apprentice. This device acted as a compass to reveal Caisam's location.
We reached our port. In the background, we could see the stairs descending the cliff, but my master was only interested in the platform in front of us. It was a stone structure with special engravings on its surface and some seals buried in twelve strategic points forming a star. Its materials seemed ordinary, but they were a careful selection that formed the necessary properties to channel shpabisshys in the way we wanted. It was a modern version of a portal like the ones used by King Svólkus's army to assault cities.
—Go get the mounts —my master said as he opened his toolbox on a rectangular wooden board on the side—. I'll stay to prepare one more contraption; I don't mind working in the rain.
I walked about a hundred meters to our corral, hidden behind the curtain of heavy rain, took the motheros we had bought, and returned as quickly as possible. My master was just as I had left him: leaning over the wooden board while the rain enveloped him. His toolbox was next to him, open and seemingly empty while he manipulated some unknown apparatus resembling a four-legged bench. The object had a small platform that adjusted to different angles and a cage that surrounded it. He had assembled it himself while I was absent.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He placed the Life Link inside that device, tilting it towards the direction in which the flower glowed, then attached three cone-shaped nozzles to the small circle on the container. Each nozzle was in a different position relative to the next, so perfectly aligned that it defied gravity with its straightness. The first one was pointing outward, so its larger opening coincided with the circle on the Link. The other two were positioned in a zigzag, so that a small tip was the last to protrude. "It's to make the received signal more precise," my master murmured without me asking, then lowered a support on the top of the device to secure the nozzles in place.
My master straightened up while I covered us again with an invisible roof. If he was bothered by getting wet, he was very good at hiding it. He asked me to position the mounts on the portal and pay attention to what he was doing.
—This is a device I designed some time ago —he said as he manipulated it—. It allows adjusting the tilt angle in the horizontal and vertical axes of the Life Links.
He asked me to install a reactive light seal at the base of the container so that it would glow at the same time as the flower, allowing us to recognize the moment it detected Caisam's direction. I did as he said, then he remained silent while making small adjustments to his invention.
—West direction —he murmured after a while, then straightened up again while carefully positioning the Link over a notch in the wood—. A while ago, I marked that arrow on the table, aligned with Stavenger Castle. From what I can observe, Caisam is about 15° with respect to that reference point —He began manipulating the orientation of the device—. The vertical angle seems correct… but the range of values is imprecise; notice how the glow doesn't change until I cross the threshold of the first two degrees. It's not acceptable.
My master took out two nozzles similar to the first ones from his nolet and incorporated them into his device. He fixed these new nozzles in place and carefully checked that everything was well coupled. Then he went to the side of the device, on a small wheel connected to various gears that reduced the transmission of movement. Each turn of the wheel emitted a distinctive click. This allowed him to manipulate the tilt angle of the Link with great precision. Some engravings on the surface of the device and the tip of a needle revealed the exact number of degrees being covered. I remembered helping him build some of those pieces, but I never knew what they were for until that moment
—It's less than a degree —my master said, then moved on to manipulate another valve connected to gears that further reduced the transmission of movement—. Point thirty-six degrees above us and fifteen degrees from the reference point. Now we just need to do a calculation, Abigail. Remember that topographic map of the area I drew when we arrived?
He took that scroll from his nolet and handed it to me.
I analyzed the document and projected it in front of us in its three-dimensional version, as I interpreted it. I also drew a celestial thread representing the Link's signal. I adjusted my projection to match as faithfully as possible the angles my master had calculated, and then we looked at the result. The signal collided on the map with Celso Valley, northwest of Elker City, very close to the largest branch of the Pocuán River.
My master took the Life Link out of that device and stored it in his nolet. We mounted our mounts and carefully positioned ourselves in the stone circle. I absorbed energy from half of the romular stones I carried, clung to my motheros with my legs, took my master's arm, and placed my remaining palm on his mount. It was a necessary ritual to ensure that my abilities worked as they should. I had done it successfully dozens of times, but I could never stop fearing mistakes. Teleportation required a lot of energy and concentration. If either of those things was lacking, a terrible scene would unfold.
My master wasn't a man who let himself be guided by passions or intuitions. He made sure I polished my skills before we started using them, being particularly careful with teleportation. I remember he forced me to practice it for a considerable amount of time, first with small creatures—due to the lack of better options—and then with criminals who had the misfortune of crossing our path.
Despite the precautions, my first experience in human teleportation was terrible. I had done relatively well with bugs that fit in the palm of my hand, but humans were much more complex. At that time, we were unaware of shpabishyss mechanisms and couldn't glimpse its reach. Imagination is the main trigger for shaping reality. Imagining that my passengers were traveling very quickly to the destination I desired was the easiest way to visualize their "teleportation." My method had worked well with insects, which are small and resilient creatures, but its effect on humans was devastating. My abilities had acted horribly that morning when I made my first trip, perhaps even worse than I would have achieved if I had tried. Blood, viscera, and charred pieces of skin were all that remained of our test subject. The smell was nauseating, and the sight was horrifying. Even the sound of my master's boots resonating on the puddle of entrails on the ground had been etched into my memory for a long time. I had been spontaneously vomiting for several days until a Gaia healer managed to ease the memories from my consciousness. Knowing that my victim had been a cruel killer who was already condemned to death made things easier. In fact, my master used that argument to try to console me, but the fear of making the same mistake with an innocent person continued to haunt me.
That was a bad memory. I wanted to destroy it once, ask a healer to completely rip those images and smells out of my head, but I was terrified of the idea of facing that same moment in the future. It took a long time for me to resume my practices, but eventually, I was able to cultivate a decent teleportation skill.
My master looked at me. He slid his hand over mine and patted it gently. Two people depended on us at that moment; there was no time to hesitate, and no reason to do so. I nodded as well, then concentrated my energy on all our bodies.