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16. Invitation and Excursion
🕑 Added 2023-12-16 21:00:02 +0000 UTCFacing down the enormous stone, Oz slammed his hand into the rock again. His qi surged. For a moment, he held it in his palm, then smashed it into the rock all at once. A handprint appeared in the stone, pressing two inches into its surface. The whole stone shook. A wave of qi flew through him, blasting into the stone. It broke in two, then collapsed apart. Its ragged center stood bare to the sky.
He shook out his hand, panting, no longer overheating or overfull. Pausing, Oz checked his core. A handful of once-blue light swirled in his core, multicolored now. It spun together, slowly mixing into one pale color. He looked at the next stone. It loomed over him, easily thrice his height. He shook his head. No way. Not yet. Not today.
Grinning at the remaining stones, he slowly caught his breath. Still, that’s four out of eight meridians! I’m making good progress. According to most manuals, after I open all my meridians, I can break through to the first stage of magehood. Once I beat this trial, I’ll be considered a true mage.
The illusion faded. Oz once more stood in the library, in front of his organized books. The books continued to release more qi than the tiny motes he’d been able to absorb before, but compared to the pulse of completing the organization, or even the grassy field, it remained thin. Still, it’s improving. Always improving! Oz nodded to himself, pleased.
A dry rap rang out from the doors.
Oz sighed. Is it Roan, come to yell at me again? Linnea, trying to flirt?
Another blast rattled the library. Oz furrowed his brows. Who’s coming to greet me while they’re bombarding the library? He pushed the doors open.
Aisling stood before him. Behind her, a canopied carriage awaited. She opened her mouth.
Screaming through the air, a sword made from lightning flew overhead and smashed into the barrier. Gold light shimmered down the face of the library. Where the sword hit, the light solidified into metal hexagons. The sword burst apart. Lightning bolts blasted out, grounding on the nearby buildings and blasting down into the street behind her. The lightning vanished, leaving a foot-radius scorch mark in the cobbles and a single exploded cobblestone.
Oz stared. He blinked a few times, absolutely flabbergasted. “Isn’t that a public health hazard?”
“This is the Mages’ Quarter. Mortals know not to enter this part of the city,” Aisling said.
“Then… low level mages, like me.”
Aisling glanced back. “If their master allows them to run wild when your library is under assault, then they ought to find a new master.”
Oz pressed his lips together, but had nothing to say. In my world, I suppose, you’d bring your children in during a thunderstorm. This is kind of the magical version of that, isn’t it?
After a moment, he coughed and nodded at Aisling. “Can I help you?”
“Tonight, we’re holding a ball. My master wished to invite you,” Aisling informed him, bowing gently.
“Er…” Oz looked up as another lightning sword struck the barrier.
Aisling smiled. “As long as you are with us, my master guarantees your safety.”
“Even against that kind of attack?” Oz asked uncertainly. One person can deflect magic of that level? The kind of magic that shakes buildings and requires an incredibly powerful barrier to handle? Where even the offshoots can kill a mage of my level?
A barrage of lightning swords blazed across the sky, sending jolts of electricity back and forth between one another. One of the jolts struck the lowest sword in the barrage, and it dipped, plunging toward the earth. The tip of the sword bounced off the ground and rebounded up toward Oz and Aisling.
“Watch out!” Oz grabbed Aisling and yanked her inside the barrier.
From within the carriage, a hand appeared. It gripped the air.
The sword jerked to a halt. Shimmering heat wrapped around its blade, holding it in place. It shivered, jerking back and forth in the air as it fought against the force that held it.
The hand turned. As it turned, the sword turned as well. With a flick of its wrist, the sword went flying, hurtling through the sky back at the place from whence it came.
Oz tracked its arc. It flew a good ways, then dropped down toward the roof of a tall, sharp-edged metal tower.
A shriek sounded, distantly. Bright light flashed as the sword popped a barrier atop the tower, and then a crack of sharp thunder snapped forth.
Licking his lips, Oz turned to the carriage. “Is that your master?”
Aisling nodded.
Oz hesitated another moment. “I don’t have any clothes but these.”
“We will provide,” Aisling replied without blinking.
“He’ll be close the whole time?” Oz asked.
“He’s prepared to swear a pact on his core to protect you tonight,” Aisling stated firmly.
Oz widened his eyes, staring at the floor. Holy shit. They weren’t joking about that ‘building relations’ thing. Her master really is determined to get to know me.
Is that book she was looking for, the Five Fist Progression, that important? Or is something else at play?
He gazed at the sky, where the lightning swords had flown moments ago, then looked at the carriage. Only one way to find out.
I need to know more about the world. Gossip is a great book, but by its very nature, it isn’t current. I need to know the current state of things. Who has power, who doesn’t. Who I should fear, who I shouldn’t. One ball isn’t going to settle all that, but it’ll take me one step closer to knowing.
Taking a deep breath, Oz lifted his foot and stepped out of the barrier.
Gold light shimmered for a moment, stretching to keep a grip on him, then slid off his shoulders. The warmth of the library faded, and so too, its stillness. He stood alone.
Outside.
Oz gazed up at the sky, seeing it without the barrier for the first time since he’d arrived in this world. At this hour, it darkened to a deep sapphire, endless blue piercing to black in its utter depths. Cool wind ruffled through his hair, washing away the day’s heat and promising of winter to come. For the first time, he took a breath and found it tinged not with leather and old paper, but instead woodsmoke and clean water.
Aisling offered him her hand. “Shall we?”
Oz reached for it.
Bzzzzzz.
Whirling, Aisling snatched at the air. A metal dart appeared in her hand, Aisling carefully pinching it between the blades.
“Shit!” Oz stumbled back, startled.
Eyes darting, she scanned the buildings opposite. Her body stiffened, then loosened, eyes locked in. She threw the dart. Glass crashed, and a shadow vanished.
Oz backed away, reaching for the door. “Wasn’t your master going to keep me safe?”
“Aisling could handle a mere dart,” a warm voice said, a hint of a laugh in its tones. Unlike Fenrir’s voice, however, this laugh didn’t mock, but invited, drawing Oz in despite his fear. Again, the hand appeared, beckoning. “Come closer. It tires me to project my voice like this.”
Stepping forward, Oz almost tripped. He looked down to find Sid swirling around his ankles. His brows furrowed. “Hey, you’re an indoor cat, right? Get back insid—”
Icy cold chilled his ear. “Take her.”
Oz stiffened. He looked around. Fenrir…? Picking Sid up, he hesitated a moment, then set her against his shoulder and nodded at Aisling. “Let’s move, before they fire another dart.”
“They won’t,” she said simply.
Hurrying, Oz quickly jumped down the stairs and crossed the brick path to the carriage. It waited for him, led by a pair of ash-colored horses, their flanks dappled. Body constructed of iron, canvas formed its upper half, an iron hoop slung forward and another slung to the rear serving as the structure to hold the canvas upright. A flap door fluttered at its middle, awaiting more passengers. Aisling moved with an unhurried gait, yet arrived ahead of him, and held the flap back to invite him in.
Warmth passed over his skin as he climbed inside. Stepping into a smoky haze that smelled faintly of burning, he ran a hand over his arm. “A barrier?”
“Indeed. Welcome, Oz Vestal. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
He turned.
Lounging against the bare metal seats, a man in his late twenties smiled at Oz. Medium-short hair fell in damp clumps around his face, the ends gray, like half-burned incense. His eyes burned white, edged in red, like embers in the heart of a dying fire. Sweat shone on pale, ashy skin. He wore his robes loose, revealing much of his chest, and rolled the sleeves up to bare his forearms. Like Aisling, his were soft fabric in yellow and orange. Unlike hers, his waist-length orange over-robe and yellow trousers hung loose and baggy around his slight frame, as if fit for a man twice his size. He turned to the side and coughed, hand to his mouth. A whisp of black smoke swirled to the ceiling.
“Master.” Aisling rushed to his side, eyes flickering with concern.
He raised his hand. “I’m fine. It’s merely the usual symptoms.”
Aisling stepped back, but reluctantly.
“Are you sick?” Oz asked, unsure how to help, how to act. Are there magical diseases?
“Sick? In a way.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Nothing contagious. I merely made a mistake, and my qi deviated. It’s fatal, I’m afraid, but I still have a few years left. Please, sit.”
Oz turned, following the man’s gesture. The same bare metal seat awaited him, but on his side, cushions and plump pillows littered the space. He glanced at the man, who smiled back at him. He’d burn them up.
“I’m afraid I missed your name,” Oz said, nodding at the man.
“Ah, no. I forgot to introduce myself, it’s no fault of yours. Sachairi Dho.” He raised his hand, then retracted it, flashing a smile instead. “Best not to shake. I’m a bit warm to the touch.”
“Aisling said you’d ensure my safety?” Oz sat opposite the man, settling Sid in his lap. The cat curled her tail around her feet and yawned.
Sachairi nodded, half-shutting his eyes. Reflected light from those burning-ember irises painted his cheeks in low red. Fleetingly, his fingertips brushed his stomach. “Indeed. I’ll do it with or without a pact, but if you wish, I’ll make a pact on this failing core of mine.”
Oz licked his lips. “No offense, sir, but… if your core is failing, can you protect me?” I saw him catch the lightning sword, but that’s different from watching over me all night long. He’s sick. If someone makes a serious attempt on my life, could he protect me?
Sachairi smiled. He sat up, leaning forward, and clasped his hands over his knee. “Oz, do you know what the most terrifying kind of mage is?”
“A mage on the verge of Ascension?” Oz guessed. If they Ascend to a higher plane, then that would be the highest level of mage on this plane.
Sachairi shook his head. “No, no. An Ascending mage is powerful, yes, but they have a future to worry about. A legacy. If they attack wildly, they might spur off a chain of vengeance, and someone may one day grow more powerful than them and come back to take their head. A near-Ascended mage is dangerous, but limited, still caught by the chains of society and fate. They are a cannon, yes, but one strapped down and aimed at the enemy.
“The most terrifying mage is one who has become unmoored. A cannon rolling freely, simmering with heat and ready to fire, that could point at friend, at foe, at their own lifeline. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Unstoppable.”
Oz waited. When Sachairi settled back, he leaned forward. “What kind of mage is that?”
“A dying one.” Sachairi smiled, his low-burning eyes bright as moons in the dusky carriage’s low light.
Oz tipped his head. He stroked Sid, thinking. Mages seem highly separated into levels. If I tried to attack Aisling, for example, I don’t think I could scratch her skin, and I don’t think she’s that many levels higher than me. “Wouldn’t they only be fearsome to other mages at their level?”
Sachairi waved his hand. “There are forbidden techniques. Abilities that trade your lifespan, potential, and fate for a massive burst of power. If I wanted to, I could fight a ninth-level, near-Ascension mage right now and score a severe, if not fatal, blow, despite being only fifth level myself. Ordinarily, mages never use those techniques, as they can only result in a pyrrhic victory; you will not survive the battle, as the technique will take your life, or reduce it so much as to make it meaningless to win. However, as my life whittles down, those techniques grow more and more tempting.”
“Do you not have less life to burn?” Oz asked, curious.
“The same amount of potential and fate,” Sachairi returned.
Low thumps sounded on the barrier, and the canvas on the far side of the carriage lit up with fiery light for a moment.
Aisling gently lifted the window flap. Dark figures raced toward the carriage. “Master, they’re closing in on us.”
Sachairi nodded at Oz. “So? Coming with us?”
Oz hesitated. If I hole up in the library, I stay safe, but I can’t progress. I need to know who used blood magic on Ossian. I need allies. The barrier can last for a long time, but only if it isn’t constantly bombarded. From everything I understand about this world, it will take a long time before I’m strong enough to catch those lightning swords casually, the way Sachairi did, and I have to be at least that strong if I’m going to try walking free of the library on my own power. Years. Decades, even. Who knows if the library’s barrier will last that long, with the bombardment as severe as it is.
But I don’t need to rely only on my own strength. If I can forge relationships with some high-level mages and connect myself into the upper end social stratum of this world, I’ll be able to negotiate with the people who can stop the attacks. And of course, I’ll never find suspects in the case of Ossian’s untimely re-souling inside the library. A social event like a ball is exactly what I need to advance both my goals. I shouldn’t be foolish and rush at every opportunity, but then, to remain eternally inside the library, weak and friendless, would be equally foolish. Oz nodded firmly. “If you’ll make a pact, then—”
“I swear on my core, before fate and the moon, that I will watch over the man before me until I deliver him back to the safety of his library at dawn tomorrow, and allow no harm to come to his person, body, mind, or soul. If I fail in this task, may I slay mine enemy before I die,” Sachairi said casually. Despite the ease with which he said the words, the air suddenly grew heavy. A sense of presence surrounded Oz, as if something much greater than him watched their carriage. The pressure built, power swirling around Sachairi and Oz, then vanished, leaving them once more alone in the carriage with Aisling.
Oz put a hand on his chest. Something warm sat there, a thin line that he couldn’t see, yet somehow, he knew it connected to Sachairi. He looked up.
Sachairi touched his own chest. “Your first time making a pact?”
“Ah… yes,” Oz said, nodding.
His eyes narrowed, and he smiled. “How precious.”
A blast of heat emanated from the carriage. The dark figures flew back, slamming into the buildings on either side of the road. Aisling sat back in her seat, relaxing just a hair.
Reins snapped. The carriage rattled away from the library.
Comments
Green0Photon
Oh man, it was so weird not having a MTPDDAT chapter earlier today. Again, I'm very happy with how this story has been going though. Meanwhile, Oz plays with fire
