Book 5 - Chapter 28
The next day, Cid woke them up early to go see the city. Brin had assumed it was cursed or trapped or something, but apparently not. They rode their horses across the camp and when they reached the walls, no guard, monster, or curse rose to bar their way.
The walls were nothing special, just smooth concrete without buttresses or crenellations. Once inside, however, it was like stepping into another world. The city looked like a thing alive, like it had been grown from vines and then petrified. The streetlights, still glowing a bit in the early morning gloom, were shaped like droopy flower stalks. The buildings matched the elven style, and flowed from one to the next like the progression of a theme rather than independent businesses each vying for attention. It was all surprisingly modern, too. The roads were paved, with lines marking separate areas for pedestrians and wagons. He saw public trash receptacles, and drinking fountains. There wasn't a speck of mud or dirt to be seen anywhere.
Stepping inside the buildings, he saw everything picked bare, but even so it couldn't hide that Arcaeneans were used to a different standard of living. Automatic lights turned on when he entered a room, and shut off again when he left. Every home had at least one restroom with a flush toilet. There were faucets in the kitchens, ovens heated by mixed technology and enchantments. He was willing to bet that if everything hadn't been looted clean, he would find other appliances. Blenders, sandwich makers, and the like.
The men of the Lance didn't understand. They moved from building to building in exasperated confusion.
"Why so many toilets? Do all Arcaeneans need to poop nine times a day?"
"What's wrong with this oven? Can they not afford fuel for wood-burning stoves?"
"Look, water comes from the ceiling here in the corner of the bedroom. You're going to soak your whole head if you try to drink from it."
It made Brin homesick. Could you be homesick for a place you've never actually been? If Aberfa had never left on her mad quest to seek out a Burrow Kingdom, he'd still be living in a place like this. No, that wasn't right. Aberthol would've been tortured into losing his mind, and he'd be touring the outside world as a [Paladin]. Mark never would've been given a second chance, and Brin wouldn't exist. It was strange how the barrier between those three identities seemed to be thinning, how he couldn't quite decide which of the three was the real him. A side-effect of all the mind-aleration he'd been doing to himself, maybe.
"Why is it empty? You'd think they'd let the men all spend the night indoors, even if the city is empty," said Brin.
Cid nodded as if he'd been waiting for the question. "Depends on who you ask. Some say it's for keeping discipline. Hard to keep track of your men with all the walls everywhere. I've been told it's because if the men get too comfortable they may not want to leave again. The truth is a little more basic. When we came in, the soldiers were hungry for loot, and the leadership were eager to indulge them. They set them loose, and the men took everything not nailed down, as expected. But then they started taking everything that was nailed down. Then they started taking the nails. Then came the vandalization. Breaking windows, knocking down walls just for the fun of it."
"So?" Hedrek said. "This is Arcaena's town. I wouldn't mind knocking down a few houses myself."
"It's not Arcaena's. That's the point. This city belongs to Frenaria now," said Cid.
"Why not Olland? We fought just as hard as anyone to take this city," said Hedrek.
"Olland gets everything the northern army captured. You should really be asking what the Order gets," said Cid.
"What does the Order get?" asked Brin.
"The Order of the Long Sleep gets to be in charge, behind Galan, because everyone trusts him to serve the common good rather than try to claim territory for himself," said Cid.
"So we get nothing," said Hedrek.
"We get to serve the common good," said Cid.
They walked across empty streets, feeling a bit lonely in the empty town. While he couldn't help but admire the aesthetics of the town, he also wondered what it was really like to live here. Beautiful? Undeniably. But that beauty came with a cost. It meant the surrender of choice. No one could pick and choose what color they wanted their house to be. It was all planned by a central authority. That was a small sacrifice when you got to live somewhere that looked like this, but how much else of everyday life was controlled by that same authority? Did the people who lived here have any part of their lives that was really theirs? He could only imagine how they must have felt when the same ruler who decided how many leaves had to be carved into their doorframes showed up one day and told them they all had to abandon the city.
"Where did they all go? Do we know?" Brin got the sudden sick idea that they hadn't gone anywhere, that Arcaena had decided she needed more undead for her army.
"North. To the capital," said Cid. "We think the entire population is holed up there."
"We don't know for sure?" asked Brin.
"The whole city is protected by another curse. Stronger than the one on the border was. We don't have any way to get so much as a glimpse inside, but we assume that Arcaena herself is waiting there with the rest of her army," said Cid. "We'll break the curse and she'll unleash everything she has left all at once. After defeating her there, the war will be over.
So there was another one of those curses guarding the capital city. He wondered if there was a plan for getting through it. He wouldn't mind another mote of chaos to play with. "Do you know if–"
There was a flash of light in the distance above the army, a flicker of green against the clouds. Then a flash of orange and red. Ten seconds after that came the sound, rumbling like thunder. There were massive spells going off near the army.
"We should get over there," said Cid.
"Back to the horses. Mount up!" Brin shouted.
The Lance thundered down the empty streets, and the whole town looked a lot smaller than it had moments ago. They galloped through the gate, into the open air, but by now there wasn't any sign of whatever spells had been going off. Still, there were signs of a general alert, and soldiers were scrambling everywhere to get up and form ranks.
The Lance rode past it all, straight to the front, and fell in place with the rest of the Order of the Long Sleep.
Only a portion of the army was ready and lined up, but that was still a massive amount. An Arcaenean force was walking into place a half-mile away, but only numbered around two-thousand.
There was no sign of spellcraft, but an unusual commotion had started at the far end of the army. The men there were moaning and wailing. They stood in ranks, and held their weapons firm, but all their mouths were open and they howled in anguish and terror.
Brin didn't recognize any of their banners, either.
"Who are they?" Brin asked.
"New arrivals from the western army. Now that they've reached the capital, they sent a few units to reinforce us," said Cid. "I was briefed on this. The moaning is due to a curse. They can't help it."
"Whose curse?"
"After failing to stop the western army, she's come here. Sana the [Witch Mage]."
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Brin felt his mouth go dry. Out of all the ones Aberfa had warned him about, that was the one he both feared and desired to see the most. The two branches of magic, the Wyrd and the Language, unified in one Class. The fact that he was surrounded by an army should've made him feel safe; and it did. Even if she appeared today, he doubted that he'd be in any real danger. But that didn't mean no one would; he'd heard rumors of the western army. Where the [Witch Mage] went, death followed.
The moaning and wailing of the curse-touched men grew louder. The allied army blew their trumpets and amplified the music of their [Bards], but it only increased the feeling of anticipation.
Then, she was there. Not in the midst of the Arcaenean army, but directly in front of a unit of Frenarian regulars. Completely alone, she was an easy target for [Inspect] that confirmed it was her. It should’ve been ridiculous to see one person standing alone against an entire army, but the moaning wails reached a fever pitch. Combined with the sheer confidence that she must have, it was an intimidating sight.
Brin would never have singled her out as the [Witch Mage] if she’d been mixed in with her army, because she was nothing like any other [Witch] he’d seen. Normally [Witches] only used their transformation ability to make themselves prettier and younger. Even Siphani had yielded to her own twisted aesthetics.
Sana was a monster.
She was nine feet tall, but that was the least of her changes. She had thirty heads. Thirty regular-sized female heads with all different faces bulged out of bulbous torso, dotting the entire body like elongated boils. The only concession to regular human form were her legs and arms. Her legs were long and bare with clawed feet, and she carried a staff in one hand. A loincloth hanging from her waist was her only clothing. The lowest head was so snug up against it she kept having to spit the waistband out of her mouth.
She cast her spells as soon as she appeared, all thirty voices shouting the Language. The utility of so many separate heads was quickly clear. In moments, thirty separate spells blasted from the [Witch Mage] to tear into the soldiers. Air, water, earth and fire, Sana kept to the four basic elements, but her spells were so widely varied and numerous that it was no limitation at all.
Dozens were struck down, others blocked, some dodged, but the initial blast was only half her power. The violent spells were also vehicles for a curse, and then the second wave hit the soldiers. It was the standard suite of curses. Bugs under their skin, vomiting blood, blindness, horrible itching that left them scratching their own skin off. Then, the wailing. Everyone even near where her spells had struck opened their mouths and joined the chorus of howls.
An arrow struck her, landing like an artillery strike. He'd seen that enough times to recognize one of Gualdim's arrows, but when the dust cleared he saw that Sana had blocked it with a shield of earth. She waited until everyone could see that she was unaffected, and then burst into a flurry of black wings. It was the regular [Witch] escape Skill because he could watch them stream across the ground at top speed. Only, instead of escape, she flew to another portion of the army, reformed, and began to chant again.
This army was a mixed group of irregulars, and they had enough Common casters among them to put up a reasonable defense. None died to her spells, and only a half dozen fell to the curses that followed. However, nearly a hundred joined the wailing.
"And they just keep yelling like that permanently?" asked Brin.
"Until she leaves the field," said Cid.
"Why doesn't Gualdim keep shooting?" asked Brin.
"Because he's level 70. If she keeps blocking, then that's just handing her experience," said Cid.
Sana used the escape Skill again, except this time she turned into a bunch of digging claws and fled underground. He was sure every soldier in the army was watching the dirt at their feet, wondering if that was where she would erupt again.
"Then where's our [Archmage]?" Brin realized he was beginning to sound petulant, but it was difficult to watch the [Witch Mage] have free reign when he knew their side had heavy hitters of their own.
"I don't even know who our [Archmage] is right now. They're keeping us in the dark so that Arcaena can't work up a strategy against them," said Cid.
By the time Cid finished speaking, Brin already knew who the allies' [Archmage] was. He could feel her approach like a rubber band snapping shut. The last time they'd met, he hadn't had much experience with [Know What's Wyrd], but after all this time straining his senses for any subtle stirrings of Wyrd, her arrival may as well have been announced with fanfare. She had such a strong claim to him that in the Wyrd, it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began. But rather than fill him with dread, that connection only made him feel safer.
Lumina was here.
The [Witch Mage] burst from the ground in the center of a formation of heavy infantry, spraying men and dirt into the air like a volcano. But rather than follow up with more spells, she immediately burst apart into her escape spell and fled towards her army.
A flash of light, and then Lumina was standing between Sana and escape. She held up her free hand, and Brin was pleased to notice the skin was normal and unblemished. She'd succeeded in losing that curse. Lumina clenched her fist and pulled down. Sana was torn from the air, and landed hard, making a crater in the dirt.
She burst to her feet, many of her heads missing teeth or with bloody noses. "Fool! I fear no [Archmage]!" one of the heads shrieked.
"What a coincidence," said Lumina, utterly unbothered. "I fear no [Witch]."
Two dozen spells blasted towards Lumina, and she quickly threw up a three-part shield. The spells broke the first barrier, then the second. Then the last shield broke and Lumina had to jump back to avoid a flaming comet and a cutting jet of water. The moments that the shield bought her were enough and she let off a jet of bloody red lightning that annihilated seven flimsy defensive spells and zapped at least eight of Sana's heads, all of them screaming in agony and momentarily joining the chorus of wails. The rest of the heads quickly developed a counter, pushing the red lightning away. The heads who'd been too greatly damaged blackened and fell off the body, to be replaced by fresh bald heads growing in their place.
What followed was a brutal magical slugging match. Brin listened carefully to both sides, eager to pick up any new knowledge of the Language, but he almost wished he hadn't. The words they spoke were vicious. He felt like a kid listening to an argument between mommy and aunty, learning all kinds of words a preschooler didn't need to know.
Lumina's spells were massive. An explosion of flame that carved a hundred-yard divot in the earth. A gout of ice that spread like fire, devouring everything for hundreds of feet in every direction. He'd been overwhelmed by the scale of her magic when she'd fought Awnadil, and had wondered if he'd feel the same now. The enormous army served as a backdrop to her power, and now that he could give it a proper measure, the effects of her magic was even more impressive than before.
What was new was her use of the Wyrd. Her intent in the Language was different from the artful, cerebral pronunciation he'd heard from her last time. All of her knowledge and intelligence still came through with the Language, but now there was extreme animosity laced into every word, all of it projecting her magic to further heights in the Wyrd.
If Lumina's war-tongue was dirty, Sana's speech was like licking the fuzzy underside of a public urinal. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it if his Wyrd senses were any stronger. He didn't know a person was capable of that much hate.
Lumina fought with big, bombastic area-clearing spells. A blast of flame, a swarm of metallic birds, spears of ice the size of a train engine.
Sana responded with quantity. Her thirty mouths all chanted the Language, sending an unending volley of spells. None of her spells were close to as strong as Lumina's, but sheer variety meant that she always had the perfect counter for anything Lumina tried. She had more flexibility, more space to think, more minds to put to the problem. It reminded him of [Multithreading], to be honest. It was like watching an evil version of himself, like all of the ugliness he kept buried inside was now on full display for all to see.
This was why Sana feared no [Archmage]. She always outnumbered her opponent. Lumina didn't waver, didn't look worried, but there were signs she was being hard pressed. Explosions detonated a little too nearby, pushing her hair and clothes. A step to the left to avoid a jet of water. Use of her staff to block a missile of earth. She was stronger, but it was thirty to one.
Then the [Knights] arrived. Brin had seen them getting into position; they'd been waiting. Perhaps they'd hoped that Lumina would win without their help. That wasn't going to happen. All together, they used [Knight's Charge]. Galan himself, along with Sir Enderic and ten of the strongest Lances in the army charged together.
Sana was gone before they got there, faded away with Arcaena's personal escape Skill.
Cid sighed. "She got away. A pity."
"Shush," said Brin. The visible fight was over, but the clash in the Wyrd had barely begun. Each of Sana's spells had carried an equally powerful curse, and they were only beginning their work on Lumina.
Lumina lifted her staff one last time, and shone a single pulse of white light. A simple spell, but it carried a powerful argument in the Wyrd. She carried absolute authority over magic, both as an [Archmage] and as one who’d overcome Awnadil’s malice. She also had the absolute authority that only a victor could claim. Sana had fled, after all. The curses yielded to the greater authority, and dispersed.
This was why Lumina feared no [Witch].
Brin nodded. "Now it's over. We really have to do something about that escape Skill. I hoped Lumina had a plan for it."
"I agree, but it's still a win," said Cid. "We don't know where they go when they use that, but it takes them at least three days to return to the front."
So they didn't return to the capital? Interesting.
Lumina launched a volley of flaming meteors towards the already-retreating Arcaeneans, but she didn't even watch to see if they'd land. She turned, and now she was looking directly towards him. She raised her eyebrows, expectant.
Brin sent an Invisible Eye down close, until they were eye to Invisible Eye.
"There you are. Wait for me? Just a few minutes longer and I'll come find you. I have a gift, and there's much we need to discuss."