Chapter Thirty

“Shimsha!” Luther intoned, his sceptre held in both hands, pointed at the hilly horizon. As if the sky were water and a stone dropped within, the air itself began to ripple, points of darkness sprouting into existence; there were over a hundred and they grew in shape as they started to descend. Swords shot down, some pointed for stabbing while others spun, crashing into each other and causing a cacophony that disrupted the sounds of nature.

Luther turned just before the first of the swords met the ground, lazily holding the sceptre in one hand and framed by the thonk-thonk-thonk of blades stabbing into grass and earth. The mage wasn’t someone I would normally call cool, but seeing him now, I couldn’t help but grin.

“You look really cool right now,” I said, interrupting him as he’d been about to speak. Luther lost his momentum, confusion dominating his expression. “That’s good.”

“Oh. Thank you, Champion,” he said, smiling and looking down. Luther took a breath and straightened his shoulders, getting himself back together. “Spatial magic was once called travel magic, but a Champion of old put forward two terms — space and dimension. It was the former of the two terms that stuck because there’s a theory that says that space and time are intrinsically linked concepts.”

I sighed. “You know, I have a friend who’s really into science and I feel like they’d be majorly interested in your view of space-time with celestial gems when compared to ours,” I said.

“You’ve heard of the theory?” Luther asked, becoming more excited than he had any right to be.

“Heard of it, but don’t know it.” I shrugged. “Sorry, I keep interrupting you when this is stuff I really wanted to learn while in the castle.”

Luther smiled. “I remember being the same when I was at school,” he said. “The best teachers were those who didn’t mind the questions, integrating them into the lessons. But others…” he sighed, short and frustrated, “they believed that questions had to be asked after the lesson was concluded so the flow would not be broken. But after, they gave attention to only the most important students, which…” Luther stopped, his eyes going to Matthaeus who was not too far away, sparring with Ji-ho.

Hatim sat not too far away, leaning against a tree and watching the pair as they went at it. The man was near Rollo’s saddle, which made me feel a pang because the goat was in Susserton. I’d cracked the code even though I thought I’d failed — I hadn’t been able to remember what WWW meant, but I knew it was an internet thing for some websites; cars had been easy; and with Michael Jackson I’d just mentioned that he’d died and hoped that would be enough.

Since the code had been cracked, the other side was getting more important people together. All in all, it meant giving them time with my goat so they could write more complex instructions.

“Which are the nobles,” I finished, pulling my mind back from the goat and cutting my use of the temporal ring. Luther shrugged, his exasperation lost.

“I still can’t believe he’s the crowned prince,” he said, struggling to look away from the pair.

“Former,” I corrected. “I think Allyceus would be offended if his crown was taken away from him.”

Luther frowned. “With all due respect, Champion, I wonder if I might ask…”

“About Allyceus?” He shrugged, looking down and shuffling his shoulders. “It’s complicated and…sometimes I don’t understand it either, not the way he does. But what’s important are Allyceus’ wishes and he wishes to be referred to with he-him pronouns, so that’s that.”

“But…”

“I can guess what you’re going to say, and maybe it’s not worth putting a lot of weight on, but Matthaeus — someone who’s known Allyceus all his life — needed no explanations. Go along.”

“Yes, Champion,” Luther said quickly, his head bobbing up and down, and his upper body bowing slightly. I frowned. Where the others hadn’t referred to Matthaeus by his titles since finding out his true nature, the same was not true for Luther, and that felt important.

It reminded me of a conversation Cybill and I had shared. We’d been talking about hierarchies and how the most fucked up part of them was how they convinced those on the lower rungs of society that it was in their best interests to internalize them. Now I was seeing a more pronounced form of the phenomenon.

“Let’s continue with the lesson on spatial magic,” I said, even as my mind continued to work in the background, testing the dimensions of the problem.

Luther nodded. “The most used aspect of spatial magic is moving an object from one place to another,” he said. “Much like my sceptre has done with these swords. If we may?”

I nodded and we walked out of the overgrowth towards one of the swords. It was an old thing, beaten, battered and blunted; there was a groove along the centre of the sword, and within there was a small black rock, speckled with points of white — a spatial gem. Luther held it up, showing me old looking engravings.

“Moving a thing isn’t very hard,” Luther continued. “At a word you can make something disappear, but you can’t know where you sent it. How well do you know your history, Champion?” His eyes widened. “Not to say you’re dumb—”

“I’m an idiot savant,” I said, cutting him off. “Ask me anything about some of the high lords of Althor and I’ll be able to tell you. But anything else and I draw a blank. Assume I know nothing, exposition-bomb me.”

“Well,” he said, “in the times just after the formation of the schools that would teach, consolidate and advance spatial magic, a problem arose, first whispered and ignored before it happened in such magnitude it truly became a problem. Spatial mages were the best warriors in those times, highly renowned because almost any threat they could vanish at a single word.”

“But where do they go?” I said.

“Yes!” he said, and something in him reminded me of Cicero. I frowned and squinted, looking for a resemblance. Marcus had turned out to Prince Matthaeus, so it wasn’t out of the question as a thing that could happen. None existed.

“Can I interrupt you with a quick story?” I asked.

“Yes. Please,” he said, and it sounded like he meant it.

“When I first got to this world I was locked in the Mourning Tower,” I said. “So named because it was used to house a queen whose name I can’t remember after her husband died. You see, the king’s brother wanted the crown, but he couldn’t just kill the queen when she was expecting an heir. So he locked her in a gilded cage and eventually the solitude got her.” I shook my head. “Sorry, tangent, Odysseus really liked historical tangents and I picked up the habit.”

“It will not stop being strange how you refer to them as equals,” said Luther. “But then, you’re a Champion. Sorry for interrupting you.”

“It’s fine, Luther, really,” I said. “Anyway, I was in full panic mode and that meant doing a lot of things. There was a tub and a shitter around, and figuring them out was easy. I had thought that maybe I could use them to escape, but what stopped me was that getting out with the shitter might mean going to the shit dimension.”

“Was this because of studies into the stomachs of gulping toads?” he asked, which really wasn’t the point. I’d told the story because I thought it was amusing, but maybe I wasn’t very funny.

I shook my head. “Dimensions aren’t really a thing that’s out of the ordinary to think about in my world,” I said. “As far as we know they aren’t real…well, that’s a lot more complicated now with me being here. I really wish a scientist was pulled here because they would love this experience.”

“What are scientists?”

“Scholars that study new phenomena or try to figure out the underlying principles of the universe,” I said. “Please, go on with your explanation.”

“The Dimension Hypothesis was not something that was thought of for the last hundred or so years,” said Luther. “When spatial mages first became a phenomenon, people thought they were making things disappear instead of sending them elsewhere. Somewhere down the line the pieces were finally put together.”

“In summary, things always go somewhere,” I said.

Luther nodded. “That was one of the hardest things to accomplish with any intentionality, we discovered. So ways to make the process easier were created. Line of sight was the first, when moving something to a place you can see, there’s less chance of a big error; then it was integrating the spatial sense, but that gets harder to do and takes more talent; and finally — and the best means towards such ends, but the most theoretically difficult — keying one spatial stone to another.”

“Like the swords?”

He nodded, pointing at the symbol on the spatial stone. “Like most things you’ve run across even if you haven’t seen what they’re connected to,” he said. “Calling is the ‘easiest’ thing to accomplish, which is not to say it is not very, very, very complicated. Sending is very complex, and it’s the reason why large transportation stones need to be worked by people even with the diagrams that litter them.”

A sigh left me. “So that’s why sending a Champion back is hard,” I muttered. “Because there’s no line of sight, the spatial sense doesn’t stretch across worlds, and there’s no keying into the other side.”

“But I think you should feel some hope, Champion,” said Luther, “and it’s all in your goat.”

“Because I can send him to Susserton,” I said.

“Yes. Yes,” he said. “You’ve probably seen a few artefacts that can be called and sent back.”

I nodded, thinking about Allyceus’ rapier and dagger, Norbert’s swords and Owain Junior’s shield.

“Those are merely objects without life, and on the hierarchy of moving things is easy. But life, that’s complicated even when one moves the smallest ant. Yet you are no mage, with no magical knowledge to speak of, yet you can call and send your goat. I think Rowan might be studying new forms of magic.”

My heart started to beat a little faster, a smile starting to stretch. “You think he’s trying to get home,” I said.

“Rowan is a great spatial mage from everything I’ve heard,” Luther said with a shrug. “All said in whisper of course, though even one of my teachers has made mention of it.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Luther,” I said. He smiled. “So,” I said, pointing at the sword. “I noticed that we didn’t pick them up after you fought Jaslynn.” He winced. “Do you just do that?”

“That was the first time I’ve used the sceptre,” he said, his cheeks turning red.

“What’s the story?” I asked. “You stole the sceptre?”

He swallowed and nodded, his entire face turning red. “It belonged to Lord Arnold, supposedly it was an old artefact from when his family was much greater in standing. The sceptre wasn’t useful for anything we learnt in school, but he always brought it with him, telling us it was so great in power, but never showing us.”

“How powerful is it from a scale of one to ten?”

“Middling, at best,” Luther spat. He took a deep breath. “When I figured that my dreams would no longer came to be, I felt vindictive and I was going to ruining Lord—”

“Call him Arnie,” I said, “as a fuck you to him. Lords really hate that sort of thing. I called Owain the Younger, Owain Junior and he hated it so much he would have killed me if he could.”

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“But…I don’t want him to kill me.”

“You stole his family’s artefact, dude,” I said. “He already hates you. You might as well go all in.”

Luther paused for a very long moment, then, “Arnie,” he said. He started as I let out a loud bark of laughter and clapped him in the shoulder, then he grinned.

I felt movement and turned my head. It was Hatim who had been off to one side, he started walking towards us and, as was becoming a fixture these days, he had a frown. Luther and I waited until he joined us.

“I thought you were teaching each other magic,” he said. “I didn’t think magic was funny.”

“Luther just said screw you to his noble oppressor,” I said.

Luther’s eyes widened. “No. No I didn’t.”

“He might as well have,” I said. “Screw the nobles, right, Hatim?”

“Screw ‘em,” he said, smiling softly.

“He took your chances of a future guy, just for some petty shit. Say screw him.”

“We really should be returning to the lesson, Champion,” said Luther.

I shrugged. “I’m gonna be belligerent until you give me this,” I said. “Come on. You’re amongst friends. It’s not like we’re going to tell Arnie, will we?” I looked at Hatim and he shook his head. “And if he comes at you.” I cracked my fists and winced.

Hatim snorted.

“Come on,” I said, sweetly. “You have no idea how good mouthing off against them is. Try it,” I said, doing my best not to make it feel like an order.

Luther sighed and said, “Screw Arnie,” so softly the words were swallowed by the breeze.

It’s small, I thought, but a challenge to the established order is a challenge no matter how small.

And beyond that it felt like I was atoning in the smallest of ways. It hadn’t been because I’d wanted to, but I had been used as a propaganda tool nonetheless, and if I could counter that, then it was worth it.

“So, my mind keeps sticking on this point,” I said, “but…you’re gonna leave these swords behind and someone’s going to pick them up. Someone’s going to use them or sell them, and then you’re just going to call them and they’re going to disappear.” I snorted. “And this has already happened twice. Fuck, I really wish I could see the looks on the faces of whoever lost a sword.”

“They probably belonged to lords,” said Hatim, picking one up. It was old and battered, half broken. Hatim’s expression was forlorn as he looked at the thing. “This artefact, even if it’s not useful, would still be prestigious to have.”

“You know a lot about the nobility,” Luther said hesitantly. Probably sensing just like me that it would have something to do with his brother, or why he kept the most distance from Matthaeus.

“We had to be very particular in the targets we chose,” Hatim said after a moment. “If we chose too prominent a noble, they might put a price on our heads and that would see us dead; too low and they would not have something worth stealing. It was the lords we stuck to, those lucky enough to be landed but with only farms to their names. They think themselves complicated, but they’re simple, all of them the same.”

“I wouldn’t say all the same,” I said. Hatim’s eyes were hard when they looked at me. “But…yeah, I get what you mean. Just…Matthaeus…would you say he’s the same as any other noble?”

Hatim frowned, his gaze going to Matthaeus and Ji-ho whose sparring session had ended. There was a small cauldron over a fire gem and Ji-ho went over to it, the thing was filled with leaves of various types stuffed in water, a sour smell wafting from it — the scent was half the reason Luther and I had chosen to get distance; Matthaeus had my showerhead and he was running water of himself.

“He seems different,” said Hatim, “but now all that keeps happening is me looking back and seeing the signs of who he really was.”

“Is it bad?” I asked.

“It is in his ability to be apathetic,” he said. “I do not believe that the Fates are our true creators, Khaya, but what these gods teach is resonant all the same. Ji-ho, Surya and I are birds of a feather who saw the worst in those of high status and came out changed. We care about those who are like us who are harmed, but Marcus…he has not. He only cares about adventure.”

“I think that might partly be because of his burnout,” I said.

“This isn’t something I know,” Hatim admitted.

“The Urocy call it the Exhaustion, and it’s exactly as Matthaeus described. You just get so wrung out that you can’t muster the emotional energy to care about anything — good or bad.”

“It feels as though you’re making excuses for him,” he returned. “Many people have had hard lives and yet they continue caring all the same. From what I’ve seen, you had these feelings and you care even for those who harmed you.”

I frowned, trying to think of a thing to say and finding that I couldn’t. “Maybe you’re right,” I said with a sigh. “It’s still hard for me to think of him as the prince. This is the only person I’ve known him as and maybe I’m trying to reconcile that and over-correcting?”

Hatim only shrugged.

“How do you feel about him?” I asked. “It’s not hard to notice you’re keeping your distance from him.”

Hatim was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer before he said, “I think it might be what you said. It is hard to imagine my friend as of the same caste that killed my brother and thought nothing of it.”

“Your feelings are valid,” I said dumbly, and felt doubly so when Hatim shot me an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Surya’s on his way back,” said Luther. It was a second later that I felt him flying, making quick ground towards us; and it wasn’t much longer before he flew in a wide circle, wearing his breast plate and holding his spear. Surya chose to land beside us because we were further away from the treeline.

“How was it?” Hatim asked.

“Ris blessed us with good winds,” Surya said, it sounded like something he should say with a smile and yet not. He gestured for Ji-ho and Matthaeus to come closer. “Not as fierce as in the Sky Cities, but all the same it was a thrilling flight. There are small scouting troupes that stand between us and the border between Althor and Susserton,” he said when the others had reached us. “Not too great a number — at least not in the form of knights — but all the same it is a worry unless we want to fight them?” At this he looked at Matthaeus.

“This was never a concern before,” he said, his tone terse.

“Well, we didn’t know you were friends with these people before,” said Ji-ho, quite blunt. “What is it Khaya said? A conflict of interest? We don’t want to put you through that.”

Hatim shifted, crossing his arms.

“You do not have to worry about that,” said Matthaeus. “I would vastly prefer it if things were as they were when we first met.”

“One cannot wish for yesterday,” said Hatim. “A new day comes and we have to deal with its challenges.”

“I hear you,” said Matthaeus, his mouth smiling but his eyes not.

“There’s something else,” said Surya. “We’ve finally caught up to the train we’ve seen signs of for the past month.”

“Can Luther and I get context?” I asked.

“Althor is facing something of an exodus,” said Ji-ho. “It is said to be much worse in the west as people rush for the freedom of Washerton.”

I looked at Matthaeus with the corner of my eye, leaning on the temporal ring so I could take in his expression; his lips were pressed together, but beyond that there was nothing. When my eyes moved to everyone else, I could see a similar sort of awareness.

All of us wondering which side he was on.

“It is not as large, but the same has been happening as people move to Susserton,” Ji-ho continued. “High Chief Ran is a common-born noble bastard and he seems to care about commoner interests. He’s enforced some laws that have made him unpopular with the old chiefs, but ones that will shift the structure of Susserton.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Susserton is a land that prizes strength above all,” said Matthaeus. “The title of High Chief is won through battle.”

“That does not seem a good way to rule,” said Luther.

I snorted. “Kings and queens aren’t much better,” I muttered before I could catch myself. For a moment there was silence, before I saw a smile starting to play out across Ji-ho’s expression. I made a point of not looking at Matthaeus, and then decided fuck it because that was how I’d been in the castle and I never wanted to live like that again.

His expression seemed restrained.

“I feel as though you have much more to say,” said Ji-ho.

I shrugged.

“I wonder if now is the time,” Surya said carefully.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it,” said Hatim.

“And if we did, we might miss an opportunity to do good,” the Falconer continued. “The train I saw was resting and not too far away from them, I saw a troupe of knights twenty men strong making way in their direction.”

“Because people can’t travel freely in this world,” I muttered, feeling my stomach turn.

“We all had our terms when we joined this group,” said Surya. He turned to me and Luther. “Something you two might not know. Mine was that I could not abide those bound into servitude, especially when they were attempting to regain their freedom. I know where my path leads and I wonder at yours.”

“It goes without saying that it’s with you,” said Ji-ho and Hatim nodded.

“I’m not a fighter,” I started.

“I’ve seen you jump directly at an artefact coursing with the power of a storm, Khaya,” Surya said. “Even if you are not a warrior, you would be a great help whatever form it took.”

Whatever I’d been about to say evaporated. I swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

Luther, visibly shaking, nodded too.

We’re still wondering which side you’re on, Matthaeus, and this is one of those things that decides it.

Maybe I was unconsciously using the ring, and that was why his response took so long, but eventually he said, “I will stand at your side.”

***

I could feel the two groups against my spatial sense. The train was a hundred men strong with more cattle and sheep between them; of the twenty noble warriors, five were on horses, and the rest on foot, keeping a steady pace while that of the train was hurried. Surya was in the air, so high he was only a speck, and moving in a wide loop to get a sense of the scene.

A stuttering breath left me, this was already beginning to feel like a bad idea.

“Scared?” Ji-ho asked me, settled lightly on her horse and her yellow staff sticking up beside her. I swallowed, feeling awful because I already knew what was coming. I shrugged. “You should not be ashamed of the feeling. Both of you,” she said with a glance at Luther. “Every impulse in your body is there for a reason, each feeling and emotion. Fear serves a function — to warn, allow one to rethink, or perhaps to give new strength. Not even the best warriors ever truly overcome it.”

“So how do we get past it?” I asked. “Because I’ve been through a fuck-ton of scary stuff but the fear is still crippling.”

“Surya said he might have died were it not for your help,” said Ji-ho. I frowned, raising a brow, that didn’t feel right. “There is nothing more dangerous to one who flies than the power of electricity,” she explained. “If that woman’s discs had hit you both, you might have fallen out of the sky. You have good instincts, Khaya; and you, Luther, have more bravery than you know, fighting even when you feared you might lose. Trust them and trust yourselves, and do not judge yourselves too harshly if your emotions get the best of you. You’re only human after all.”

I let out a breath, heart still hammering but feeling more on my feet. Rollo was beneath me, breathing deeply after our run to catch the two groups. I didn’t like that I was pushing him when he was injured, but he’d done so without complaint. Surya had been right that Rollo was hardier than I gave him credit for.

The Falconer landed a moment later, coming to a running stop.

“Who is it?” Matthaeus asked, his words hard.

“In the lead is a man bearing the standard of a ram,” said Surya, “its horns curling back into three loops; its stands against a chequered field, white and an almost green blue.”

Matthaeus’ expression hardened. He sat straighter, his shoulder stiff and his eyes on the mountain that dominated the horizon. The man hadn’t said anything, but it was clear he felt conflicted.

“Do you know who they are?” Hatim asked.

“The Marlin branch of the extended Mandaron family,” I answered, when Matthaeus didn’t. “They changed their surnames a while ago to distance themselves from the Mandarons; that was shortly before King Perseus made a law which said anyone who changed their surname would be cut off from the line of succession.”

“Petty,” Ji-ho muttered.

“A law written by my great-grandfather,” Matthaeus said sadly. He let out a long breath. “The move by the Marlin branch was made to undermine him in a time of disruption, so the high lords would lose faith in him. My ancestor ensured that the Marlins would regret the move.”

“Why is he here, though?” I asked. “Don’t the Marlin have lands in the south?”

“Either he is protecting the borders or he is here to discuss a match,” said Matthaeus. “Can you describe who you saw?”

“A man in his thirties,” said Surya, “broad and dark of hair. He bore a flail whose head was as large as my torso and studded with gravity, fire and earth gems.”

“Corneleus,” said Matthaeus. “Our artefacts are similar, though his works earth and flame both. He will have in his company four others, knights of high standing.”

“There are four people on horses,” said Surya.

Matthaeus nodded. “All will have artefacts,” he continued. “If they have not changed there will be a set of invisible blades; a set of throwing knives which imparts gravitational control; a dual wielder of water shooters; and Leonidas, Caller of a Dire Boar.”

“The last one sounds really ominous,” I said.

“You don’t know about boars?” Ji-ho asked, surprised. I shook my head.

“Dire beasts which hail from the Blighted Lands,” said Hatim. “As big as your goat but they are all muscle. They have the particular ability of being able to replicate the abilities of whatever beast they consume. For the most part they are now gone, but there are those who grew wings and flew away from the Commonality.”

“Untameable,” said Ji-ho.

“How does this lord control it, then?” Luther asked, his voice small.

“It’s bonded with him,” said Matthaeus. “How, I do not know.”

“There are some beasts that naturally bond with us,” Hatim explained. “Dogs, goats, and loni-fowl.”

“Corneleus travelled over the seas and returned with the pig in his company,” Matthaeus continued. “He’s told tales of how he turned it to his side, but they always change and none has the ring of truth. By trade the man was once a spatial mage, but the call of adventure was too great and he started giving out his services to ships that sailed the high seas.”

This is a really bad idea, I thought.

Ji-ho reached into her robes and pulled out two orange vials. She extended one in my direction and the other towards Luther.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A Hardened Heart Elixir,” she said. “My own brew. Fear will have less of a hold, but your focus and mental acuity will increase — at the risk of a strong headache tomorrow.”

“How strong a headache?” I asked, but Luther had already downed his in one gulp.

“Splitting,” said Ji-ho. “The touch of the light will have you wincing in agony.”

“Um…”

“But I have something that will mitigate the pain,” said Ji-ho, humour in her eyes. “You should be more like Luther, Khaya, more trusting.”

I looked at the thing with some reservations before I took a large gulp and felt the sweet liquid slide over my tongue and down my throat. I had expected the potion to work almost immediately and tensed, a little afraid of the effects. But it didn’t and I was left disappointed.

“When will it start working?” Luther asked, beating me to the question.

“Who’s the person you stole that sceptre from?” Hatim asked.

“Arnie,” said Luther. Then, “Oh.” He laughed.

“Fuck him, right?” I said.

“Fuck him,” Luther agreed.

“And fuck Corneleus,” I said, with my attention on the crowd of twenty who were steadily making their way towards people on their way to a better life.

You’re indirectly saying fuck the king too, a part of me reflected. But even though Matthaeus was close, posed a threat and had a giant hammer that could make a plaything of the ground. For the life of me I couldn’t muster up the effort to be scared of him. Really fuck him too, it was his fault that I had been brought into this world, and he’d treated me like shit when I hadn’t met the standards he’d had in his head.

Beyond me, it was his effect on this place and its people, the laws he let be and was protecting to secure his own power. Fuck him for the fact that he had the power to make things better for people, and chose not to because it might be too troublesome.

My pistol found my hand as anger and resentment that had been in the background came to the fore, willing me to move, to act, to fight.

“To the skies!” Surya said, darting up into the air.

Eagerly, I pushed Rollo and we were off to battle.