Chapter 45 | PoV: Aisha
“You've got everything?” Fazl asked.
Aisha and Fazl stepped—well, Aisha stepped, Fazl hovered—up to the northern gate. Both carried packs full of various gear, food, and other supplies for a journey . . . somewhere. They had each cleaned out their houses of important items, handed them off to the legislature, and prepared a writ to leave.
Aisha nodded.
“You're not planning to walk into the tempest if we took the time to get all of this,” Fazl gestured to his pack. “What trick do you have up your robes?”
“You'll see.”
A great sigh escaped Fazl. “Why must you keep being vague about it?”
Aisha shrugged, she didn't have a good answer. “It's fun.”
The caravan in front of them headed out. Stone wagons and tarp coverings rolled out, pulled by grunting camels. Aisha waved at the mages in the back wagon. They paid no attention to her, and she frowned as the wagon rumbled away. It wasn't that they didn't see her, but that they were deliberately ignoring her. Best not to associate yourself with Aisha Of-Jinan, the merciless mage that killed His Necrotic Toenails.
Oh, wait, was that Aisha now? Since she was dead, and kind-of inherited the Big Dunce's necrotic magic.
That stunk hard.
. . . Not that she smelled bad! Just—that it was terrible. Eugh, why did she have a little piece of the Royal Reprobate?
The guards saw Aisha and Fazl and gasped. A few murmured amongst themselves. They then seemed to poke each other for who would check their missive. Guards were supposed to be all disciplined and behaved and with an act that was together—not whatever this was.
One of the guards finally stepped up to them, sighing. “Missive?”
Aisha waved a paper at the guard.
He didn't take it, barely even giving it so much as a glance. “. . . We don't care. We know, go.”
Aisha blinked a couple times, then nodded. The gate stayed open for them, and they walked out.
Why'd he ask for the missive if he didn't even want to see it? The nice shiny formal paper stating that Aisha and Fazl were to be exiled and blah blah blah. They really needed a paper like that to leave the city? They had the gates on a seriously strict lock.
Aisha rolled her eyes. Guards. She hoped the next city would have better guards.
Or, in fact, none at all.
Any city with even a pinch of law probably wouldn't want them.
Hopefully their infamy wouldn't extend all the way over there. Although rumors spread like wildfire, even with the seldom caravan.
Aisha snorted, watching the caravan zoom off into the distance with a time bubble, and probably extra haste to avoid Aisha and Fazl.
Aisha walked along the sand and gravel beneath her. Fazl hovered at her side.
“Are you going to drop a time bubble?” Fazl asked.
Aisha shook her head, then grinned.
Fazl sighed again.
They made it to the edge of the tempest and stopped.
The wind howled and the heat radiated off from it, pulsing like a great heart.
Aisha felt for the strange white orb inside her.
“What's your great plan, prin—”
“[Temporal Sundering],” Aisha cast.
Fazl froze.
The tempest froze.
A blanket of temporal mana surrounded everything.
Aisha reached for her glowing white core. “[Temporal Parting].”
Aisha willed all the mana in the entire tempest to pull away.
Heliux, how far does the tempest go?
Aisha pushed and pushed and pushed.
She fell to her knees. She felt no pain. Her heart beat naught. Her lungs demanded no breath.
She felt drained. Exhausted, but not in a mortal sense.
Wait. Aren't I supposed to speed the time up, not take it away? Did I just freeze the entire tempest?
Aisha dropped Parting, then Sundering. She pushed herself from the sand.
Aisha blinked. She stared at Fazl. He did not speak a word, not finishing his sentence from earlier. He did not vertically sway in the air, keeping himself in place. He was just . . . frozen.
“Fazl?”
Aisha stepped up to him and waved a hand in front of him.
She waited.
No response.
Aisha stared at the tempest.
It was still frozen.
Did I . . . Did I break time?
Aisha stepped into the tempest.
Nothing. Not a whip from the air. Not a pulse of scorching heat.
She backed out of it.
Um. What do I do now?
The mana would come back, right? It always seeped back into the spots that she had drained it from, like when she had used that trick to kill the Prince.
Erm, but she had kind of drained, like, an entire continent of temporal mana . . .
Or rather, a very large island.
She didn't really know. Nobody knew how big this place was.
She had just reached out for the entire tempest and expunged the mana. Maybe about a hundred kilometers?
So . . . Could she bring that mana back? Could she also speed up the tempest enough for it to dispel?
Aisha went down and sat cross-legged against the sand with a groan, dropping her staff and putting her head into her palms.
How had she messed up this badly? The book didn't have the page with the spell . . .
Aisha dug into her satchel and pulled out the book, setting it on her lap. She flipped through the pages to where the spell had been.
She read the book for zero seconds.
Tehe, because time wasn't moving for anyone but her. So—while she probably read it for an Aisha hour, she read it for an entire zero real seconds!
Whatever.
A stray strand of hair fell from her braid and got into her vision.
She thought nothing of it for a minute—well, zero seconds. She continued flipping through the pages. Then hopelessly trying to pry them apart and look for any stuck or hidden pages. Unfortunately, each page seemed to be accounted for and decidedly not hiding any secrets.
Then her gaze settled on the lone strand of hair and she jumped.
Heliux! Great golden shell of the divine! Um, some other curse!
The strand was white. Aisha's expression dropped, and she groaned. M-maybe it was just the one hair. It wasn't just the one hair . . . was it?
Please don't tell me I look like a grandmother!
Had she expended all of her life with that spell, that sad attempt at getting rid of the tempest?
Wait, she couldn't have. She was already dead.
She snorted. Could she still age? Could the backlash of a spell still cause damage to her appearance? Was she wrinkled? Had she shrunk? Maybe she should stand up and measure her height against Fazl, to see if she had changed? Would she need a cane and be a hunchback? Oh no, an old lady using her staff as a cane. That would be tragic.
Ooh maybe she could be one of those wise old ladies handing out unrivaled knowledge and wisdom to young and aspiring mages.
No! No no no!
All of this was terrible! Awful! The. Worst!
Aisha stuffed her face back into the book.
☆ ☆ ☆
Aisha snapped the book shut and then tossed it into the tempest. The frozen wind, heat, and kicked-up sand consumed the book. It vanished from sight.
Good riddance!
Aisha picked up her staff and stood. She began to play with temporal mana, molding it into [Temporal Sundering]. She did not cast the spell, however.
Also, it was curious that she could channel temporal mana, considering it was all gone.
Aisha thought about Fazl's [Squall's Ultimatum] spell, which appeared like some sort of pinnacle aeolian offensive spell. Was there a [Temporal Ultimatum] or something similar?
Aisha wished she could see [Aeolian Sundering]. What would that entail? Would it choke out everything in existence and remove air, if abused?
Aisha stopped and blinked. Could she cast either of those aeolian spells? The Prince had used aeolian spells, and Aisha had stolen his mana. Or something like that.
The souls of all the people the Prince had killed?
Aisha shoved that thought into a time-out corner and locked it up. She tossed the key into the metaphorical void in her head. She would not be thinking about that!
Wait . . .
“[Breathless].”
Aisha felt a light-blue mana flow through her staff. The spell cast, but sputtered out without a target.
Aisha's jaw dropped.
Did she absorb the entire mage type or only the spells they knew?
Aisha smirked. Aisha used aeolian mana and built a spell she had watched Fazl cast. “[Squall's Ultimatum].”
The mana came to her. Something happened? . . . Nothing happened.
Maybe because time was gone?
How did she throw that book then? Why did the sand move for her? How could she move? Did this imply that time moved for Aisha, and her actions? Did the aeolian mana and the spells come from someone else? From not-her? The consumed soul (h-hey! She had locked that thought up!)? Or maybe every aeolian spell worked like this, unattached from the user?
Aisha once again built a spell she had stolen off of Fazl, thanks to her mana-sight. “[Flight]?”
The mana rushed into her. Was something supposed to happen?
Aisha jumped and . . .
. . . stayed in the air?
Woah. I'm flying!
Erm, well, hovering. She found it distinctly difficult to move around. She failed her arms around and did not get much of anywhere.
How did Fazl do it?
Aisha pushed against the aeolian mana in her body and—Aisha shoved herself into the tempest.
She pushed back and exited the tempest.
Aisha felt tired. She assumed if she still breathed she would be choking or asphyxiating or something.
Aisha dropped the spell, and landed on the ground with her feet.
Right! Enough playing around with aeolian mana and probably some dead mage's soul!
Aisha played around with [Temporal Sundering]’s form again. Then [Squall's Ultimatum].
Okay, so—Aisha now has the magic of whoever the Prince had absorbed, because she had absorbed him after his death. She still needed her knowledge of the spells to cast them—but she could. So, her casting was built around herself, and not a stolen, frozen set from the persons that the Prince had killed. Right?
What was a spell she cast the name of but didn't know its mana pattern or at least didn't form first? Or one that a common mage would be able to cast? One that would probably be incorporated into their grimoire?
“[Wind Slash].”
Nothing. She, of course, didn't expect it to do anything with time completely gone. Yet, no mana formed at all.
“[Zephyr Press].”
Nothing.
“[Updraft].”
Nothing.
Aisha built [Updraft], she had seen its base when Fazl had been trying to make [Flight]. “[Updraft].”
A rush of air pushed Aisha off the ground. She floated back after a few moments.
Okay, so the wind from that spell could push her, yet she could cast [Squall's Ultimatum] and get nothing from it . . . Wait. Did Ultimatum need [Tailwind] first? Like [Temporal Parting] needed [Temporal Sundering]? Or was this a weird time-gone thing?
Aisha groaned.
None of this made any sense! Her best guess was that spells that manipulated herself still worked, but anything outside of that failed. Then, yes, she had the mana, but not the grimoire, of the consumed mage. She still needed to build up her own grimoire.
Aisha, focus! You need to get time back!
Aisha paused and took a deep breath.
. . . Did she even have the energy for that?
How did she get energy back? Did she need to sleep or eat?
Heliux, why did everything get so complicated?
Aisha went into the tempest to retrieve her book. Her boot kicked against something, and she bent down to pick it up. The book!
She returned into normal air.
☆ ☆ ☆
“[Temporal Ultimatum],” Aisha tried, locking an absolute abomination of temporal mana into place. It looked not unlike [Squall's Ultimatum] in form. Wait, why wasn't it called [Aeolian Ultimatum]?
Anyway, this was like her thirtieth iteration. Anymore and she might just simultaneously combust—
The mana locked into place.
Aisha grinned. She almost felt like jumping around and dancing . . . Ahem, that wasn't her thing in the slightest.
She gasped—a fire alighted within her. A surge of temporal mana exploded. She felt a pain that wasn't pain—she wasn't sure she could feel pain anymore. It was, like, major soul damage? Something! Whatever.
Aisha got ahold of the bottomless pit of mana within her. She tried to direct it out of her body.
It spilled out like grain in a granary with a big gaping hole in it.
She urged it to spread out into the world, evenly dividing it.
Surely this wouldn't have consequences?
Aisha eventually felt the mana brush against the edge of the tempest. She made sure to measure it all out so it was equal with the non-botched world beyond her mess.
She felt like a god.
She broke the spell.
“—cess,” Fazl finished.
Aisha sighed with relief.
And then a bunch of wind slammed in from behind her.
She dispelled [Squall’s Ultimatum].
Oops.
Fazl turned and blinked. “What was that?”
“The nearest aeolian tower mage must have lost focus on their basic ability,” Aisha said.
“Hey!” Fazl noticed. “What's with your hair? It's all white!”
Aisha grimaced. “Am I all wrinkly and old-looking?”
“You kind-of always did . . .”
Aisha glared at him.
“I'm joking! It's just the hair!”
Aisha rolled her eyes, then sighed with a smidgen relief. At least it was only her hair . . . She didn't want to look like an old lady—not yet!
Aisha turned her attention to the tempest.
It had resumed.
Had she done all of that for nothing?
Unless? . . .
“[Temporal Ultimatum].”
Aisha grit her teeth. The mana rushed into her like a covered wagon and maybe half a dozen camels—make that ten more covered wagons and an entire horde of camels (what was a group of camels called?). Aisha fell to her knees.
“Aisha?” Fazl asked, floating over to her. Concern creased his face. “What spell is that?”
Aisha urged the mana into the tempest—tons of it. Endless amounts.
She let the spell go.
Aisha watched the tempest. The rushing wind reached uncharted speeds. The sand and gravel it kicked up blurred like nothing she had ever seen before. Did she watch hundreds of years go by?
“Heliux's forsaken hellscape!” Aisha cursed.
“What? Are you okay?”
Had, um, had Aisha not included all the cities inside her spell? Had she sped those up by hundreds of years as well? She had avoided them, right? . . . Right?
Aisha's stomach churned. She wasn't even sure she still owned a stomach. Okay, that was silly, of course she did. Dying didn't immediately hollow you out or anything.
Aisha pushed herself up and pointed.
Fazl followed her pointing, turning to face the tempest.
It took many long seconds. A minute ticked by. Okay, maybe it wasn't working?
Fazl glanced at Aisha with an eyebrow raised, “What are we looking at? Oh, it’s going really fast, what did you do?” His voice began flat and bored, then perked up at the second sentence, and then turned into skepticism.
“Just wait,” Aisha nearly snapped.
Another minute . . . Then another? And . . . a third minute . . . Aisha watched the tempest like a charmed snake, tasked with staring off. Hypnotized.
She felt so drained . . . exhausted. She wanted to close her eyes and fall into a deep slumber. Yet, she wanted to watch the tempest until the very moment it vanished, then some time beyond that. Could she even sleep? Probably. She didn't know anything about her dead body, maybe she should figure out her limits and necessities later.
. . . Could she have kids? Would she give birth to dead children? . . . Ack! This wasn't the time for such thoughts!
“How long are we waiting for something? What are we waiting for?” Fazl asked. Blegh, how dare Fazl not believe in Aisha! Or maybe he did believe, but he was just so bored. It had only been, like, ten minutes!
“Um. I don't know. We could be here forever,” Aisha shrugged.
Fazl sighed.
The tempest probably had to go through hundreds of years of time. Who knew how much faster it was going thanks to Aisha's spell? Maybe it would still take a year for the tempest to resolve. She had thrown a ton of temporal mana into the tempest, though. Would all of that not be enough?
The tempest dissipated. The wind and heat receded, then died out altogether. The sand and dust kicked up floated to the ground.
Fazl blinked, his expression went wide. He was speechless. He continued to stare at the tempest—or rather, the lack of it.
Maybe instead of looking at Fazl, Aisha could—was that a blue sky? What? Hey, were those white fluffy things up there clouds? Were those vultures flying in the distance?
Aisha saw towering rock formations as well. Spires and mountains and all sorts of things. Also a vast forever-ness of open sand and dunes and more sand and hey wow that's a lot of sand.
Okay, maybe Aisha should go redistribute that temporal mana now.
Another minute ticked by as they stood—and floated—there in silence, gazing upon the tempest-less landscape.
Strange birds zoomed through the open sky, blinking in and out of existence. Various green things started growing from the ground. Some extremely short and in patches, others were lone . . . bushes? Flowers? Why were they here all of a sudden? Sand still dominated the landscape.
Erm. How fast had she sped the tempest area up? Were those birds dropping them off from distant lands as they passed through?
The plants rapidly began to take root in the sandy dunes. Ones with sturdy brown stems began to rise a couple paces into the air, with branches and leaves. Trees!
Aisha noticed fleeting moments where dark clouds gathered overhead, dumped water, then vanished as quickly as they had come.
Another minute.
The grass and other plants continued to spread. Sand broke down into dirt.
Aisha turned and saw that Glorestra was free from all of this time being sped up . . . but not the sky above.
Erm, was she about to dump a hundred years of rain onto them? Maybe not a hundred, but a few?
Okay, she really should do something before this got even further out of hand.
“[Temporal Sundering]. [Temporal Parting].” Aisha subtracted mana from the tempest until it synced up with the mana around Glorestra and beyond the tempest, a hundred kilometers away. She decided to take some temporal mana out of the skies above the cities’ locations. Hopefully that would slow the rain down and not totally flood them.
Okay. Fixed! Aisha wobbled, her vision swam.
Oh come on! That's four times in the last five days! That fight in front of Rafiq's office! Getting back to the caravan after the assassins. Absorbing the Prince. And now this!
Wait. Would plants be useful? Maybe she should undue her redistribution of mana and let the world grow wild for a couple hundred years in the span of minutes—?
Aisha fell to the ground, blacking out.