379. Faith
The vædic sigils etched around the base of the mana cannon’s barrel flickered and died. If the steam curling up out of the edge of the barrel, pouring off metal half-melted into slag, hadn’t been enough of a sign that Ettie would be getting no more use out of it, the dark sigils would have made it clear. She slid down out of the seat just before the articulated, crab-like legs finally collapsed, lowering the entire weapon down to the floor in a series of clanks, hisses, and thumps.
“That seems to have done it,” her mother called over, turning away from the blasted wreck of machinery which Ettie had just finished destroying. Beatrice Crosbie strutted through a battlefield as easily as she did through the halls of Castle Whitehill: it was a side of her mother that Ettie hadn’t ever really seen before, and she was still trying to make sense of it. Fencing and sparring in the yard was one thing: a mother who charged the enemy line, blue mana flaring from her eyes, sword in her hand and battle-cry on her lips, was something else altogether.
The immense struts, each the size of a castle keep, had been constructed in two immense caverns which bore all the signs of having been blasted out of the rock only in recent years. Ettie had been up through the bowels of Bald Peak enough to recognize the signs of recent excavation, even if the rock of the moon bore a few differences in color and consistency. They’d been fortunate that those bases, anchored onto metal platforms which could apparently be raised and lowered, were enclosed, rather than on the outside of the vædic structures themselves. Ettie had seen enough corpses floating by outside corridor windows, during the battle through the maze-like passages, that she had no desire to attempt a trip outside onto the moon’s surface.
Her mother placed a hand at the small of Ettie’s back, and ushered her over to where her father, with Ronja close by, was overseeing the business of securing captives. There was a row of a dozen bodies laid out on the floor, at the base of one wall of the cavern, but they’d managed to take seven cultists prisoner here. Most of them were wounded to one degree or another, but none seemed to be in immediate danger of death.
The only one still with the corpses was Shooting Star, who’d sunk his teeth into one neck after another, taking blood while it was still warm. The sight of it sent a tremor through Ettie’s stomach: it was easier to not think about how the Red Shields got their power when they were drinking chicken blood from an enchanted vial. Watching him in the aftermath of a battle gave her a new understanding of why humans and Eld alike had begun to burn their dead, so many years ago.
Matthew Summerset turned toward his wife and daughter as they approached. “Things are about settled here,” he remarked, and then glanced behind Ettie. “I assume we won’t be getting any more use out of that captured cannon?”
“It is well and truly ruined,” Ettie confirmed, with a nod of her head. “We should bring one of them down to Professor Norris anyway. Maybe more than one. He’s going to want to take them apart and play with the pieces.”
Her mother laughed. “That’s true enough. He hasn’t changed a bit since we were kids. In fact, I can guarantee that he’s going to want to come up here himself once everything is safe. Speaking of –”
Matthew nodded. “With both struts destroyed, we’ve cut off Ractia’s source of mana. I was a bit worried that might result in the entire surface of the moon being scorched away, but without those enchantments functioning, the sun seems to be returning to normal. From what I can tell, most of the actual fighting seems to be wrapping up, but I’m still not certain where Noghis and Ractia are.”
“They’re wherever Liv is, of course,” Ettie’s mother said. “I’d guess down that central shaft we passed. We should catch up and see if she needs any help.”
Ettie nodded, and turned to head toward the door which led out of the cavern.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” her mother called after her.
“You said we should catch up,” Ettie said, pausing and turning to face her parents. “I’m not being left behind again.”
Her father placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Let her come, Triss. She’s probably safer with us than anywhere else, at this point.” Matthew Summerset turned back toward the prisoners. “Shooting Star. Ronja. Come along, I don’t want to lose any students while we’re up here.” He waved a hand, beckoning Ettie’s friends over.
The journey back through the chambers and corridors of the vædic ruins had an entirely different feel than when Ettie had first arrived. Before, they’d dashed between doorways, ready to face enemies at every turn. Screams, explosions of fire, the blasting of Antrian shoulder guns and the clang of steel blades had echoed from every corner, speaking of a dozen pitched skirmishes taking place at once. Everything had been noise and confusion, a terrifying cacophony of violence.
Now, the battle-scarred halls of the ruins were filled with Alliance soldiers and culling mages from the guild. The numbers were, frankly, astounding to Ettie. Everywhere she looked, she found people busily going about the business of handling a battle’s aftermath. Through the doorway into the great dome where Ractia’s people had grown their food, Ettie could see that an emergency station for treating the wounded had been set up. Elden healers of the Esteri worked alongside humans from the Order of Chirurgeons, while the worst of the wounded were preserved by Kaija, the captain of the queen’s personal guard, in solid ice. Ettie was glad that she wasn’t the one who was going to have to move all of those heavy, frozen blocks to the waystone. But then, she supposed that with everyone using Tethers anyway, that might not be necessary.
In other chambers – smaller spaces, rooms that had only one entrance which could be secured with just a few soldiers – the healthiest of the captured enemy fighters had been rounded up and placed under guard. Ettie observed culling mages using the word of dreams to put the prisoners into a magical sleep, so that they couldn’t cause trouble.
The worst, though, were the children, often with mothers or grandparents, who had sought shelter deep in the ruins, beneath the surface of the moon, during the fighting. Boys and girls alike clung to their mothers, faces streaked with tears. After hearing a quavering voice ask where a father was for the third time, Ettie hurried past. They’d all need to be brought down to Bald Peak, and from there – once again, she was glad that was a problem that her aunt would have to deal with. Ettie wouldn’t have even known where to begin.
The central shaft was under guard when they arrived, picking their way through a hallway that was littered with withered, thorny vines. A mixed group of half a dozen culling mages and alliance soldiers snapped to attention once they recognized Ettie’s father.
“Your grace,” an older mage said, stepping forward. “Harold of Bexbury, culling mage of the Order of Watchful Magim.”
“Report,” Matthew Summerset said, coming to a halt where he could look down the shaft into the darkness. Ettie stepped forward until the toes of her boots were nearly at the edge, and let Bheuv sharpen her senses. The bottom of the shaft was scorched and blackened by fire.
“From the signs of battle in the hallway, we’re fairly confident the archamagias’ group descended the shaft,” Harold explained. “The soldiers who got here first reported sounds of fighting echoing up from below, but all’s been quiet since I arrived. We didn’t want to proceed without someone in a position of authority making a decision. The last thing I want is to get in between an archmage and a goddess.”
“That’s a reasonable decision,” Ettie’s father muttered. He turned to the soldiers. “You men were here first? What sounds did you hear?”
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“Mostly screaming,” one of the men admitted. “The crash of metal. Hard to say, past that.”
“Someone used a lot of fire at the base of the shaft,” Ettie broke in. “Probably a spell.”
“Do the enchantments that create a mana disc still function?” her mother asked.
Harold shook his head. “Whatever happened during the fight through here, all the sigils along the inner surface of the shaft were melted or scoured away. The exposed mana stone is cracked, with pieces falling out. I wouldn’t want to trust my weight to any platform these enchantments create, if it’s working at all.”
“That’s fine, I can handle it,” Ettie’s mother said.
“It might be better to let Shooting Star go first,” Ettie pointed out. “We have a Red Shield hunter, we might as well use him as a scout.”
Her father turned to Star. “You’ve gotten enough blood? Are you in shape to do it?”
The hunter nodded. “Of course. Give me just a few moments, and I’ll be back with what I find.” He shifted into bat form and fluttered down the shaft. Ettie was able to track him, despite the gloom, right up until he reached the bottom and flew into what she presumed was a corridor down there.
Though it had been her own suggestion, Ettie found it difficult to remain still and silent while they all waited together. Though she could feel her parents watching her, it was Ronja who came up and took hold of her hand.
“He’ll be fine.”
“I know.” Ettie gave a squeeze back, and tried to convince herself that it was true. Only when a small black bat soared back up out of the shaft was she able to feel a bit of relief.
“There’s been fighting all down the hallway and into the next room,” Shooting Star reported, once he’d landed and taken human form. “I think it’s where they stored all the machinery they didn’t find a use for, because there’s scrap metal everywhere. There’s two dead bodies there, and the door leading out was broken down, then encased in ice, and then that was melted through. I saw a hall beyond that with broken Antrians everywhere, and that’s where I turned back. No threat that I saw to that point.”
“Did you recognize either of them?” Ettie asked. If it had been my aunt, he would have said, she told herself.
Star hesitated. “One of them I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, though there wasn’t really enough to tell. The other – I’m not certain. I only saw her once or twice, from a distance…”
“Good work.” Matthew clapped Star on the shoulder with his good hand. “Alright, the duchess will carry us down. Once we get to the bottom, I want everyone ready to fight. We’re going to identify those bodies and then continue on.”
Beatrice Crosbie conjured a disk of blue mana wide enough to fill the entire diameter of the shaft, and Ettie piled on with all the others. Her father counted off three alliance soldiers to remain behind and guard the top of the shaft, but everyone else, including the culling mages with Harold of Bexbury, came along. Ettie wasn’t certain how much mana any of them had left, but she was glad to have the help, anyway.
By the base of the shaft, Ettie could actually smell the scorched metal from whoever had thrown fire around. She placed one hand over her mouth, in an attempt to avoid coughing, and hurried off the mana disc as quick as she could. Unfortunately, as they made their way into the chamber in which Shooting Star had found two bodies, the scent of burned flesh was thick around them, and that was even worse.
“Aira!” Ettie’s mother cried out, and ran to the side of one body. The old woman had been pierced from behind by enough metal shards that she lay in a wide pool of sticky, half-dried blood. Her cane was nearby, and when Beatrice rolled her over, Ettie saw that her throat had been torn out. Someone fed on her, she realized. Just like Star and the Corpses.
Her father, on the other hand, knelt by the headless corpse of a man in black armor, etched all over with Vædic runes. There were enchanted swords lying nearby, and something else, as well. Ettie leaned over to pick up the steel-shod butt of a polearm, ending in what was left of a haft which had been burnt down almost to charcoal.
“It has to be Noghis,” Matthew Summerset decided, after a moment. “He was the son of Red Shield, so he’d be able to feed on blood. And we know that he had magic, as well. I can’t think of anyone else who would fit what we’ve found here. I’m not certain who killed him –”
“Uncle Keri,” Ettie said. She held the butt in one hand, took three steps to the left toward one of the piles of scrap metal, and fished out the head of an Elden Næv’bel. “I don’t know anyone else who uses one of these.” She carried both pieces of the destroyed weapon over to her parents.
“There are a few,” Ronja said, coming up by Ettie’s shoulder to look over the blade. “But I can’t think of any who were in Bald Peak before we left, other than Inkeris ka Ilmari kæn Bælris. His body isn’t here, Ettie. That means he won, and he’s still alive.”
“And the ice at the door will have been either Liv or her father,” Beatrice said, rising from where she’d knelt next to Aira’s body. “Let’s move along. They may need us.”
Her parents strode immediately into the next corridor, but Ettie hesitated for a moment. “How bad is it that they lost an Elder before even getting to Ractia?” she asked her friends.
Shooting Star and Ronja exchanged a glance – they weren’t very subtle about it.
“I’m certain the rest of them are still alive,” Star said. “Let’s go find them.”
The Antrian machines in the corridor were of the same sort that Ettie had seen when visiting her grandparents at Valegard – multi-limbed scavengers that scuttled through the valley, harvesting whatever parts they could from the wrecks of war-machines. Since the Foundry Rift had been buried in a landslide before Ettie was born, those scavengers were the only reason that new Antrians attacked the wall, and even that was in much reduced numbers from what had come before.
“Arjun!”
The voice was her mother’s, and Ettie pushed her way forward through the culling mages and soldiers until she could see. The master mage was kneeling next to Ettie’s uncle, Archmagia Corbett, and the queen’s father, all of whom looked like they were lucky to be alive.
Arjun Iyuz’s wand wove intricate designs over his three patients, while he muttered under his breath continuously. Ettie caught not only Cail, the word of healing, but Cost and even Ract, the word of blood, among his incantations.
“Those are Esteri spells, passed down since the time of the Vædim,” Ronja explained, from where she squeezed herself in at Ettie’s elbow. “I’d be shocked if he isn’t the only human in the world who can cast them.”
Ettie had to fight to tear her eyes away from her uncle's forearms, where blackened flesh sloughed aside to make way for new growth while she watched. “I see everyone but Aunt Liv,” she said. “Where is she?”
It wasn’t Arjun who answered – he remained entirely focused on what he was doing – but Uncle Keri. “She followed Ractia,” he said, forcing the words out between hisses of pain.
Archmagia Corbett pushed herself up on one arm. “She was using the power of the sun to create more mana than I’ve ever seen before. All of it went to creating that.”
Ettie followed the older mage’s pointing arm to a place at the very center of the chamber, where, surrounded by wrecked and ruined machinery, a black circle hovered at chest level, without anything to support it. It was so black that it almost hurt her eyes to look at it, as if such a color was not meant to exist.
“My sister went through that?” Ettie’s father asked, taking two steps toward the black orb before hesitating. “And it was powered by the struts which were drawing from the sun?”
Sidonie Corbett nodded, and Ettie felt like she’d been stabbed through the stomach with an icicle. “But we destroyed the struts,” she said. “They won’t be able to power it any longer. Does that mean it will –”
“Collapse? Eventually, yes, I would think so,” Archmagia Corbett said.
“We need to feed it, then,” Valtteri declared. “Give it enough mana to keep it open until she comes back. It might be shrinking already!”
But the archmage was already shaking her head. “We could, each one of us, empty ourselves entirely of mana and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference,” she explained. “Those struts were pumping thousands of rings of mana into – whatever kind of portal that is.”
“What do we do then?” Ettie exclaimed, looking around from face to face. “We have to do something to help her. Do we follow her in?”
“No,” her uncle Keri said. “Liv will come back. We simply need to be here when she does.”
“But how do you know?” Ettie couldn’t help but wring her hands at the thought that she’d inadvertently doomed her own aunt. She could be stranded, Trinity knows where, with no way back. We should have waited, found out what was happening!
“I know because I have faith in my wife,” Keri said. “And so should you. She’ll be back. You’ll see.”