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The sunset had gone unnoticed, as the night blazed with hellfire.
For a half mile all around, the tallgrass had been scoured to ash, and even beyond that, fallout from various spells burned merrily. The stars were obscured by an ugly blend of airborne ash, greenish clouds of some residue from a misfired hex, and the angry glow of portals and dimensional rents both half-formed and fully blaring infernal energy onto the scene. All around lay the corpses of demons, those which hadn’t already crumbled to charcoal when the magic left them, interspersed with fresh craters and clumps of jagged obsidian one of the two warlocks had called up to make the landscape nearly impossible to navigate.
Still, they fought on, and at this point only one was growing tired.
Their styles were virtually opposite. The Sleeper was on his fourth suit of armor and the most haphazard yet, as he was continually battered by Iris’s spells and had to re-arrange his defenses under ever-increasing pressure. Whether or not he still cared about concealing his identity, some manner of magical protection was absolutely essential for survival in the hellscape they had created, and so he was still warded, but down from his earlier hulking carapace to a human-sized shroud of greenish flame, hastily fixed into conventionally styled plates of armor. He summoned demons, cast circles which either blocked her path or spat out hostile magic, used curses to alter the terrain with clouds of dust, darkness, and even a patch of slowed time.
The Sleeper had (almost) all the knowledge of the queen of Hell herself, and he was barely slowing her down. He would long since have given up and fled if his opponent had let him.
Iris had virtually no style, not technique at all. She did basically nothing but hurl fire and shadow, and yank open dimensional rents which devoured his spells and occasionally spat more fire and tendrils of darkness to impede his way. He called up demons, and she effortlessly blasted them to ash. His summoning circles went haywire at her merest glance, flickering out, exploding dangerously, or even altering to unleash horrific magical backlash on their creator. Curses, area-of-effect attacks, even direct damage spells she easily unraveled, neutralized, or hurled right back at him, without even seeming to realize what she was doing. Every time he tried to run, shadowy tendrils snared him, or a new rip appeared in reality, unleashing a blast of force that hurled him back toward her. That was still gentler than what happened when he attempted to shadow-jump, a prospect upon which he had given up early in their duel.
The fire-armored Sleeper finished obliterating the obnoxious tentacles of shadow which had impeded his last escape attempt and turned to face her once more. Iris paced forward with a measured stride, face still twisted in a snarl of animal fury. Her dark skin and white dress were both liberally stained with ash, but neither had suffered so much as a burn or scrape.
He gesticulated with both arms, and all around her, a ring of thirteen spell circles formed out of the air, glowing flame-orange with infernal runes. The very air within them thickened, darkened, the charred ground beginning to bubble.
Iris made a slashing motion with one hand, and five of the circles on that side shattered like glass; the rest, destabilized, began to misfire, causing the shadows to dissipate and the aggressive decay to spread outside their boundary. Even as she strode forward beyond their range and the remaining circles collapsed, he was already conjuring again.
The orb of flame which descended from the sky at a steep angle was the size of a house, and moving at such an impossible speed it was almost upon her seconds after its first appearance over the horizon; Iris was already pointing at it before it came into view, and a mere two yards from impacting her it struck an invisible barrier and rebounded, arcing through the air to strike the ground scarcely twenty yards away. The roar and shockwave of the explosion blasted everything in the vicinity clear, momentarily obscuring the whole scene.
The Sleeper, relatively secure behind his armor, seized this opportunity to flee again. As before, he didn’t make it more than two steps. This time, rather than the multitude of shadow tendrils which had grabbed him previously, a single tentacle burst from the ground, coiling around his ankle, and whipped him through the air to slam him against the ground.
“Well, you got your way,” Iris said, stalking forward. “Proud of yourself? Are you happy? Is this what you wanted to see?!”
He tried to roll to his feet to face her, and the tentacle yanked him away again, smashing him to the ground a few yards away in the other direction. The shadowbolt he had barely formed went careening harmlessly into the sky.
The Sleeper, still alert despite the impacts, unleashed a blast of fire at the tentacle holding his leg, just in time for another to grab his arm and whirl him away again. This one whipped him back and forth, smashing him hard on the ground three times in three places yards apart before finally giving him a break.
This time, he just lay there, apparently stunned. And this time, Iris finally closed the gap.
Seething darkness appeared over her hand like a gauntlet as she bent to grasp him by the neck. Iris straightened up, hefting the Sleeper bodily upright, a feat for which she likely lacked the physical strength; more tendrils of shadow sprang up from the ground, snaring his limbs and helping to push him upward.
“Might as well keep your secrets,” she said coldly, glaring at the inscrutable mask of flame. “We’ll find out who you were when somebody doesn’t show up for class tomorrow.”
“Need…me…” His voice was weak, clearly male, disguised this time by fatigue, smoke inhalation, and possibly the grip of the dark gauntlet around his throat. Even without his earlier pretentious vocal effect, it was unrecognizable. “I can fix—”
“Professor Tellwyrn is the greatest mage in the world, you little stain,” she snarled. “Your curse won’t last much longer, anyway.”
The air around them rippled again, and Iris turned her head in the direction from which the wave had come, raising a hand. Two figures had appeared upon the charred landscape nearby, neither of them demons.
“Miss Domingue, I presume?” the dwarf said politely. “Your Professor sent us. Dear me, what a mess,” he added, peering around at the destruction and ongoing infernal radiation.
“This must cease,” added his companion, a tall Tidestrider man with an octopus tattoo along his right arm.
A sharp crack sounded, and the Sleeper’s armor began to fragment. Fractures appeared and spread across it, white lines interrupting the dance of the green flames, making them resemble reflections in a broken mirror.
“No, you don’t,” Iris snapped, squeezing harder. A thin film of purple shadow coalesced over his body, even as the fractures deepened and spread further.
“Oh dear,” said the dwarf. “A little closer, Haunui, if you please. This is going to be tricky.”
He made a lifting motion with both hands, and four square basalt columns thrust upward from the ground around them in a square formation, trailing lengths of black chain from their upper edges. They rose to a height of seven feet, all the while the lengths of chain reached for each other as if magnetic. Within seconds, they had formed an impromptu cage.
“What is this?” the Wavespeaker demanded. Before Wrynst could reply, the Sleeper exploded.
The noise alone was enough to knock a person bodily over; the concussion of the blast made the cage shudder, to say nothing of the wash of white-hot flame with raked away a foot of topsoil in all directions. It was over quickly, though, leaving Iris holding a handful of nothing.
“No,” she whispered, staring at her black glove even as it dissipated. There was no sign of the Sleeper at all; nothing had survived in the vicinity except Wrynst’s cage, which had only barely endured. Lengths of chain broke away and fell like pieces of dried-up vines, and one of the square columns, cracked across its middle, toppled over.
“An inverted containment spell,” Wrynst said matter-of-factly as Haunui pushed his way out of the now-limp chains. “Only effective against infernal power, but rather impressive, if I say so my—”
He was cut off by Iris’s scream of pure frustration. She sank to her knees, then toppled forward, slamming both her fists into the ground.
“I had him! I was so close!” She began rhythmically punching the earth, kicking up puffs of ash with each blow. “All of this was for nothing. Years of work, my whole life, gone for nothing!”
“Child.” Haunui had strode over quickly, and now knelt in front of her. “Nothing is gone.”
“LOOK AT THIS!” she screamed at him, throwing her arms wide.
As far as they eye could see in every direction, the golden tallgrass was gone; flickers of fire still raged along the horizons. There were several impact craters still, though the other detritus of their fight had been destroyed by the final destructive spells she and the Sleeper had unleashed. The sky was all but hidden by a sick mockery of the northern lights, seething rents in reality from which tongues of flame and eye-wrenching darkness seeped all around.
“This is all I’m good for,” Iris said, suddenly toneless. Her arms fell limply to her sides. “I was just fooling myself. First time it came down to it, this is—”
Haunui grasped her face gently in both hands, capturing her attention.
“The tide comes and goes, beyond our power to affect,” he said, holding her gaze in perfect calm. “The wind blows as it will, bringing what it will. The world turns, the clouds change. We are specks adrift on the surface, hefted by powers we cannot contest. This is true.”
“Excuse me,” said Wrynst from a short distance away, “but this whole area is massively unstable. We had really better—”
“The one thing that is yours to command,” Haunui continued, ignoring him, “the one thing, is your own hand on the tiller. The world will do with you whatever it does. You, and only you, decide who you are.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her cheeks, washing over his callused fingers. “I can’t do this. I lost it all.”
The shaman smiled gently. “Child, I hear the spirits around you still. They do not abandon you so quickly; no friend does. Still your mind, as you were taught. Reach out, and find them still there.”
“Reach,” he insisted. “You are your choices, not your gifts. Reach out. Make a choice.”
Iris heaved in a shaking breath, swallowed heavily, and closed her eyes.
“I really must insist we go,” Wrynst said nervously. “Sheyann was unsure how long she could sustain the link anyway, and we are surrounded by active and uncontrolled dimensional rifts. Now, please!”
“We will heal them,” Haunui said, not looking up from Iris’s face. “Patience, warlock. What was done will be undone. What was destroyed, remade. The magic of the earth and the wind holds sway here, not the magic of the nether.”
Wrynst threw up his hands in a hopeless gesture, turning and stomping back toward the point at which they had first appeared.
Haunui closed his own eyes. Light blossomed along his tattoo, the inked tentacles glowing brilliant green along his arm and back. For achingly long moments, he and Iris knelt in the dust, eyes closed, while hellfire flickered hungrily in the destruction all around them.
A faint whisper of wind rose.
The first changes were too slight and too slow to be noticeable, but they swiftly grew in speed, and strength. The glaring rents in the sky began to close, shrinking to points and lines until finally the last flickers of fire and shadow vanished. Reality reasserted itself, the corruption of the infernal shrinking away. Finally, after scarcely a minute had passed, the last of them were gone, and the stars shone again unimpeded.
Iris drew another breath again, shaking from a withheld sob, but a smile blossomed on her face.
“They do not forget so quickly,” Haunui repeated. “Come, there is more to do.”
It took a few minutes longer, but finally the first green shoots began to appear. Once they initially manifested, they grew quickly, rising and spreading. In another ten heartbeats, the fires in the distance had flickered out and a veritable carpet of pale green spread around them. As the two knelt, concentrating in silence, the tallgrass continued to blossom, pushing its way upward.
The rate of its growth slowed as rapidly as it had first accelerated, and all too soon came to an apparent stop. It was nowhere near as well-developed as the usual grasses of the Sea, rising barely knee-high, and the green of new shoots rather than the golden amber of the mature tallgrass…but it was there, spreading away in all directions over what had been a battlefield torn by flame. Dips in the landscape still marked the craters left by spells of destruction, but they were covered by a green shroud of new growth.
From somewhere nearby, impossibly, came the chirp of a cricket.
Haunui let out a long sigh, at last opening his eyes, and lowering his hands from Iris’s face. “These things go in cycles, as you know well. Ash is good for the ground. Look.”
She finally opened her own eyes, meeting his gaze, then following it to a point on the ground between them.
A single red flower rose from the soil amid the blades of new tallgrass, a cluster of cone-shaped blossoms shifting slightly in the faint breeze. The old symbol of regrowth after fire, the versithorae, a bloom that only rose from ashes. A sign of the earth’s forgiveness.
“As I live and breathe,” Wrynst marveled, gazing around. “You actually did it… Total infernal nullification. I’d never have thought such a disaster could be cleaned so quickly.”
“A choice was made,” Haunui said gravely, finally standing up. He held a hand down to Iris.
After a moment, she tore her gaze from the flower and looked up at him. Her dark eyes were clear, despite the tracks left by tears through the dust on her cheeks. Finally, she accepted his hand.
He nodded to her, once, then turned back to the warlock. “And now, we had better go. It does not do to keep an Elder waiting.”
Wrynst sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, if you’re certain you’re finished here.”
“We’re done,” Iris said in a small voice. “Let’s go. Please.”
“Uh, Professor,” Gabriel said nervously, “if you don’t mind my asking—”
“Because, Arquin,” Tellwyrn said, “some problems are not best solved by exercising force. If I thought Iris in danger you had better believe I would be there myself. The situation, however, is that she needs to be rescued from the Golden Sea, not the Sleeper. We need the best shaman and the best warlock to navigate the shifts inflicted upon it. That means Wrynst and, with Sheyann forced to stay here and hold the path open, Haunui. Trust me,” she added grimly, “I’m not worried about the Sleeper hurting her. I guarantee he is regretting forcing Iris Domingue into a corner right now.”
“Um,” he said carefully, “…okay.”
Gabriel had dismissed Whisper, who tended to quickly grow restive with nothing to do. Now they all stood in the tallgrass at the outskirts of the Sea, waiting. Sheyann knelt on the ground, eyes closed and lips moving constantly in a silent soliloquy; nearby, an unceasing rustle moved back and forth through the tallgrass where Maureen paced, muttering to herself. Tellwyrn and Gabriel simply stood, she staring fixedly at the horizon, he fidgeting.
“Actually,” he offered after a terse silence, “I was going to ask—”
“They’re coming,” Sheyann said suddenly, relief audible in her voice, as well as fatigue. Maureen darted toward them, pushing amber stalks roughly aside.
Reality itself heaved, the ground seeming to roll like the tide, without actually displacing the grass or any of them standing upon it. The undulation carried three figures, though, and deposited them right in front of the group.
“Iris!” Maureen wailed, throwing herself forward.
Iris, filthy and clearly exhausted but apparently unharmed, knelt to catch her, wrapping the gnome up in a hug and rocking slightly back and forth.
Tellwyrn quickly joined them, bending down to rest a hand on Iris’s shoulder, heedless of the ash staining her dress.
“Iris,” she said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “are you all right?”
Iris nodded, swallowed, and finally looked up. “I’m not hurt. Professor… I’m sorry. I almost had him, but—”
“None of that,” Tellwyrn said firmly. “I’m responsible for protecting you, not the other way round. I’m sorry. What’s important is that you are okay. We’ll finish dealing with the Sleeper very soon, I promise you.”
“I’m not absolutely certain he got away, though,” Wrynst added, straightening his robe. “That effect he unleashed… It might have been a ploy to conceal a shadow-jump, or it may honestly have been his destruction, whether self-inflicted out of spite or resulting from the damage you did. Either way, it was a desperate maneuver. You really had him on the ropes, young lady.”
“Keeping us in the dark would be just like him,” Gabriel chimed in, then added fervently, “I am damn glad to see you back safe, Iris. We were worried sick.”
She actually twitched, her eyes falling on him and widening in shock. Iris opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.
Maureen’s shoulders jerked slightly, and she finally drew back, grinning. “Oh, aye, that reminds me. Before I forget to tell ye, Gabe’s here. He’s the one who came to fetch us; hasn’t left ever since, not till we were sure you were safe.”
“I—uh—I mean…thank you,” Iris said weakly, ending on a squeak.
Tellwyrn sighed, straightening. “Sheyann? Are you all right?”
“Quite well, thank you, Arachne,” the Elder said smoothly. “That was by no means easy, but far from the most tiring thing I have ever undertaken. Most instructive, as well. You know, I may have gained some insight into Kuriwa’s trick of traveling between places.”
“Now, why the hell would you want to do a damn fool thing like that? Let Kuriwa play footsie with unspeakable horrors if she wants. I thought you had more sense.”
Sheyann raised an eyebrow, but smiled faintly in amusement. “I allowed you to teleport me for this escapade of yours, Arachne; I expect to be spoken to with a bit more restraint. At least for a while.”
“Yes, you’re right. Sorry.” Tellwyrn sighed heavily, and grimaced. “I’ve been quickly using up my store of restraint over the last two days.”
“In fact, you’ve been doing quite well,” Sheyann replied, gliding over to pat her on the shoulder. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You have conducted yourself very nearly like a person with normal, basic social skills. It may seem an odd thing to say, Arachne, as I certainly have no claim to responsibility for you, but I am…proud.”
Tellwyrn glared at her. Then, incongruously, her lips twitched, and she emitted a soft snort that was clearly the lesser part of a laugh.
“Well…all right. We’ve got a crowd back at Last Rock to reassure, most of you will be needing some food and rest, and I owe a series of explanations to several people. Most urgently, Iris had better get into a bath and then bed. Let’s move this out, people. Wrynst, Haunui, I thank you very sincerely for helping to protect my student.”
“Oh, no need for that, Professor,” Wrynst said cheerfully. “This beats the daylights out of laboratory work. I’m having a smashing old time!”
Haunui just nodded gravely.
They started slowly, Iris having to detach herself from Maureen and push upright with obvious weariness, but soon enough the little procession got underway, heading back toward Last Rock. Tellwyrn stood aside, letting them all pass before finally bringing up the rear, alongside Gabriel, who had hovered nearby.
“So, Professor,” he said in a low tone, nodding at Wrynst and Haunui a few yards ahead of them. “What I was actually going to ask… Who are those guys?”
She sighed. “Later, Arquin. Tomorrow, you’re going to learn a lot of things, some of which will explain the presence of all the…guests I brought with me. More immediately… Gather your comrades when we reach the town, if you would. Before people start scattering to the winds and spreading rumors, there are some things you’ll need to understand.”
He followed her gaze past Haunui’s shoulder, to where Iris was trudging along, slumped with exhaustion, then nodded silently.
25 thoughts on “12 – 59”
So, obviously didn’t get that Wednesday chapter done; work kept me exhausted. It turns out it wouldn’t have mattered, though, as I had no internet most of the week.
I’ve mentioned before that my internet is on a joint account controlled by my sibling/landlord who lives next door. I have to give her the money, and she pays the bill. And it sometimes happens that, despite me handing over the money, the bill does not get paid on time. The last time this occurred, I finally requested that she have the company separate the accounts so I could at least be responsible for my own internet.
Last week I had to repeat that request, and I learned some things.
She hadn’t forgotten me asking the first time, but apparently the ISP won’t do that unless the account is fully caught up. Which is never has been, basically all year. I was reminded that for the last several months, she hadn’t let it get so bad that my service was actually cut off–as if this were an accomplishment, as opposed to basic adult responsibility. And finally she offered that next time it’s going to be this bad, she would let me know in advance, so I at least could hold back my share of the payment and not be on the hook for a service I was going to be denied anyway.
So, all this time, I’ve been thinking I paid her money for the bill and she paid the bill, when in fact, the situation is that I give her money for the bill and she prioritizes it however she sees fit. And this is not going to change any time soon, it seems. There’s apparently nothing I can do about this.
Anyway, this always comes to a head around the 20th of the month. If I ever miss an update at that time without explanation, now you know what’s happened.
Also, in the course of this discussion, I learned that there are plans to demolish my house when the mortgage on the property is paid off so she can build a new one for herself. So, in between one and two years, I’m going to need to find a new place to live. Which means I’m going to need to be making quite a bit more money than I am now as I get to live here for a pittance of rent (see, she’s hardly all bad, as frustrating as the internet situation is) and can’t afford anything better or I’d already be living somewhere better.
Been one of those weeks, in short. Meanwhile, we press on. My thanks to the new Patreon backers who signed up this week! Also, TGAB’s TVTropes page, linked on one of the site’s sidebars, now has a characters page which needs some love. It’s got all of five entries! You know how many characters there are in this story, after all.
See y’all later. I’m gonna try for another midweek chapter, just to burn down the backlog. Otherwise, maybe Friday or maybe not, depending on funding.
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You need to get outta there. Get yourself a small second-hand RV or something and a good phone plan…
Just added you to my Patreon, keep it up dude.
So it sounds like the infernal power was inherent in Iris, and that she’s been struggling against it for a while. Im guessing she’s either Elilial’s unwilling Hand or is possessed by one of the archdemons.
Or half-archdemon. Keep in mind her infatuation with Gabe has been one of her most clear character traits. And what Elilial said about her ‘chosen warlocks’ and confessing. As well as the multiple whos that said Vadrienny was the last and how unlikely they would be lying or have been lied to.
I don’t think she’s either of those, just a naturally gifted warlock that really despises the craft.
Both Elilial and Arachne have long since confirmed that Vadrieny is the only one of her sisters remaining, and while the former isn’t trustworthy, latter is smart enough to probably be right and isn’t heartless enough to lie to Teal & Vadrieny about it. Plus, if she was possessed by an archdemon, odds are the demon would have also lost herself in the transition like Vadrieny, so it wouldn’t explain how she’s so knowledgeable despite hating the craft.
Speaking of that knowledge, from what we’ve seen of the other paladins, they don’t seem to get much, if any inherent knowledge as a bonus, to if Elilial’s Hand got anything along those lines it would be something she chose to give them extra. I don’t think that’s likely, as Elilial seems more about cunning than infernal magic. Plus, I doubt she’d ever trust Arachne to train her Hand. To be fair, I think this is a much more likely scenario than the first, but I just find it unlikely.
I don’t think she’s that knowledgeable, though. It seems like it’s mostly a (fucking) lot of intuition and power.
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Vote now! Twig is a mere 60ish votes away!
The narration is a bit weird in the beginning, I think removing the first 4 paragraphs and leave ‘The Sleeper had(almost) all…’ at the start would be better? It’s a departure from the third person limited that works so well for you and it looks a bit weird. It’s also a departure from the third person limited that works so well…
Speaking of typos
Iris had virtually no style, not technique at all.
change not to no
I’m wondering if Iris isn’t actually a demon blooded, one like Gabriel that doesn’t show physically.
Maybe, but considering how badly infernal magic reacts with fae, I don’t think it would be possible. Sure, the “Demon-blood gets drawn into the infernal arts and then runs away” story would totally fit the experiences we’ve heard from other demon-bloods, but I think any real attempt at fae magic would have resulted in either no response or violent death.
Gabe could do arcane magic. Elspeth, that magic shop owner in Lor’naris could too.
We’ve been told few beings are so strongly aligned that they can’t learn another path with work. I didn’t get ‘skilled’ from that display, I got, “I have a ton of power.”
See? Even Sheyanne recognizes this isn’t the real Arachne! Haha!
(Yes I know that’s not actually what she said, I’m just exercising my right to creatively misinterpret stuff. Besides, Shey was vague enough in her words that my interpretation could be right after all! )
Why are we all assuming that Iris’ attraction to Gabe is based on the demon thing? What if it’s really his connection to Vidius? Iris is secretly one of Vidius’ Angels, a trio of women as beautiful as they are deadly, who the Boss sends out on missions that his Valkyrie’s or his hand can’t handle.
I’m surprised that the Sleeper had a male voice, unless that was still disguised. We know from the scene in the crawl with Elilial that the arch-warlocks are one man and one woman. I had interpreted a later scene as Fedora indicating that Chase was very likely one of the arch-warlocks, though not in fact the sleeper—which would make the Sleeper a woman. But maybe I misunderstood the Fedora talking to Chase scene, or Fedora is wrong.
I’ve never really liked the theory that Chase is the male warlock. Seems out of character both to try and summon a genie and to not go to Tellwyrn. Maybe I’m just overestimating his intelligence, I dunno.
Seems more likely to have been his classmate (I forget the name) who showed up with a wounded arm after the first Sleeper fight. And afterwards in the comments people were wondering why none of the characters seemed to pick up on that.
It’s just like Chase to try and impress some girl by showing what a big bad warlock he is.
They did pick up on that, but assumed it was way too obvious and most likely just a distraction.
Wasn’t Chase the first victim they don’t know that the sleeper is two person and not one, so for them it can’t be Chase.
I also suspect there is more to this than what everyone has been assuming.
I already assumed you’d assume that
Which I’d already assumed, that you’d assumed that fionag11 had assumed. Which presume that you’d assumed as well.
Or in other words, “one level deeper than you”.
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