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Rise of the Archon, Book 2, Chapter 60
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 06:37:53 +0000 UTCI tilted my new spear this way and that, catching the candle's light along the edge. Johann had done good work, remounting the dagger's blade at the end of a crossguard and blending the two until they were indistinguishable. The haft was blackened wood with a few strips of leather wrapped around it to provide a better grip, and he had noted that I could unscrew the entire thing into three smaller pieces for easier storage.
However, I could already see the flaws. The balance was off despite Johann's best attempts to adjust the weight using the crossguard. The haft felt relatively soft, and I suspected it would splinter and crack with only moderate impacts. I could not flow mana through the blade, though it would carve through any magical defenses. All in all, it was inferior to my swordstaff but passable for now.
I double-checked the rest of my clothes, from the thick gloves and boots to the backpack slung over my shoulders. The only thing within it was a blanket, some pieces of dried meat and bread, a few tools I had purchased from the blacksmith, two filled waterskins, my new, broken-down spear, and, at the top, a curled-up black cat doing his best to steal his third nap of the day.
"Ready?" I projected into Fortuna's mind with only some trouble.
Yes.
I nodded, then adjusted the straps on my backpack and made for the door. It opened, and I slipped into the hallway, moving as slowly and quietly as possible. I made it to the main room with only a few squeaking floorboards for my trouble, finding it empty. It was just a little past sunset, but I must have caught Lila and the others out and about.
A part of me regretted leaving without saying any goodbyes. The three had taken care of me, saving my life and nursing me back to health without any reasonable expectation of repayment. Sure, they might have suspected I was at least somewhat wealthy, but it was just as possible I was a thief or a murderer.
But they had not seen that as a possibility. They saw an injured person who needed help and did so without batting an eye. It was the type of altruism I rarely saw in Ferris, and I wondered if I would have done the same in their place.
I stood by the table for a longer time than I intended. Finally, I reached down to my belt and pulled the small purse free from where it hung. All that remained in it were a handful of coins, but it was enough for several week's worth of meals, even for three commoners.
The bag landed on the table with a clink, and I opened the front door and walked out without so much as a backward glance.
***
I ran my fingers through the short, crudely cut thing I called my hair. If I lived through the next few days, I would need a proper barber as soon as possible. Unfortunately, until then, I would have to look like I had lost a battle with a pair of rusty scissors.
My hair had grown longer in the months since I set off on my own. I had always preferred it that way, but traditional Ferren high society favored short and neat. This standard was particularly true for the "lessers," including the advisors, servants, and lower-ranked nobles.
It was not some act of rebellion, of course. I did not care enough to waste my time with such a minor thing. The truth was I liked the way it looked.
Unfortunately, long hair was more noticeable. Julian had taught me long ago that even minor changes to your appearance could have a disproportionate impact, and I tended to agree. So, my impromptu haircut.
I would have liked to pair it with a dye to obscure my identity further, but that would have to wait. Instead, I would lean on a few other tactics. First, I would travel at night, and second, I would avoid the roads. My time learning to navigate my way using the sun and stars would help me keep my way, and I could always return to more well-traveled paths now and again.
After some thinking, I decided to make my way to Aranth first. It was a risk, but one I felt I had to take. Not only had I left some supplies in the city, but I had something more important there.
Wallace.
Wallace and I were not friends. We had grown closer, but neither of us had deluded ourselves into thinking it was anything other than an alliance of convenience and mutual benefit. But there was every possibility my encounter to the south had put him in danger. He might have flaws, but he did not deserve that.
What would it say about me if I abandoned him to his fate just because it benefitted me to look the other way? This was my fault, and I would take a risk rather than throw that onto Wallace.
I set off walking northeast. My plan was to travel for several days before turning west, approaching Aranth as if coming from the east rather than the south. I had to assume there were people watching the roads, and even that minor bit of subterfuge might help me escape their notice.
It did not take me long to start jogging. Experienced travelers would caution against an aggressive pace, but most of them did not have magic at their disposal.
My body was still far weaker, thanks to my healing, but my magic was unaffected. If anything, the precision and control needed to repair my wounds had improved my efficiency. Not much, but every little bit counted.
It took me only a second to fall into the typical rhythms of Arcane Body. I felt the Aether seep into my muscles and bones with a familiar, icy rush. My steps grew easier, and I smiled as the pervasive feeling of weakness that had followed me since my injury vanished.
Soon, I was running rather than jogging. Each step carried me further than the last, and I bounded over gaps, wove past obstacles, and adjusted my course across the hilly fields and grasslands without slowing. My route was not too difficult, but even so, I could not help but enjoy the near-superhuman agility my magic had granted me.
All good things came to an end. Magic was not the miracle some thought it was, and my magic even more so. I had pushed my core far and honed my control, but the best I could manage was about twenty minutes.
I slowed to a walk and focused on breathing, trying to draw more Aether into my body. Months of practice with my modified technique allowed me to improve and recover far faster than before, but I had once more hit a plateau. I would have to improve it again, and now felt as good a time as any to try out some ideas.
When my core was full once more, I again pulled my Arcane Body into place. But this time, as I started running, I set the spell aside and focused instead on the mana within my lungs.
Aether hummed within them, burning with untapped power. I watched it for a half-second, then reached for a portion of it and pulled. I drew it through my body, down my channels, and into my core as I had thousands of times over.
However, I did not allow this new Aether to join with the mass in the center of my core. Instead, I tried to feet it into the stream of Aether flowing out and into my Arcane Body Spell.
It was like trying to merge two flowing streams. The divergent currents crashed into each other, and I felt my spell fall to pieces. My body returned to its unaided state, and I stumbled to a stop as my breathing caught.
I coughed a few times and doubled over as I tried to catch my breath. My lungs burned, in no small part, due to the sudden backflow of mana into the delicate tissue, and I took a few deep inhales to verify I had not damaged anything too badly.
Then, I straightened, pulled my spell into place, and started running again.
The idea was sound. There were methods of drawing mana into enchantments passively, allowing them to last far longer than they should. If I could do the same with my gathering technique, learning to funnel it into my magic, I could maintain my spells for much longer. Maybe even forever, so long as I had enough Aether at my disposal.
In theory.
But in theory, the gap between an apprentice and an Archmagus was a few years of hard work and the right attitude. In theory, an untrained farmer with a sharpened stick could kill a king. 'In theory' was a phrase that meant precious little. What really mattered was what happened in practice, and in practice, my idea was not so neat and pretty.
Failure and I spent the night together as old, familiar friends. I tried, failed, and tried again and again. One step became two, and two grew to four and four to ten, then twenty, and then thirty. Progress was slow but ever-present, and I stopped to sleep with a sense of...well, not satisfaction, but closer to that than frustration.
It would take days—weeks even before I could really master this ability, but I could see the possibilities. If it worked, it would allow me to 'solve' one of my failures: permanent physical enhancements.
I would crack that secret, no matter how long it took. It might take me months, years, or even decades but I would figure it out. That said, backup plans seemed prudent, and I had come up with several over the months.
My first idea was to lean into enchantments. I would create as many as possible, each designed to enhance my strength, speed, durability, and other traits in different ways, turning me into an unstoppable, inhumanly powerful titan.
Eventually, I set that idea aside as impractical and moved on, replacing these enchantments with multiple, layered spells. I knew how to "anchor" a spell to my core, and it seemed possible to expand this, doing with base magic what I could not with enchanting. Of course, this approach would drain my core in a minute at most, so it was similarly unfeasible.
And that flaw led me to this idea. If I could figure it out and further improve my gathering technique, could I maintain my strengthening magic forever? Would I even need permanent physical enhancements in that case? I would, but it might be enough to keep me alive until then.
There were still downsides, but the idea seemed to have legs. So, I would practice it now while I had the chance. Even if it proved fruitless, the exercise would only help improve my control and efficiency with magic. Minor or not, those little improvements added up.
Miles vanished beneath my feet as we ran, and days passed in a blur. My pace was not as fast as it would be with a horse, but it was fast enough. Finding a place to rest on the open plains proved the most challenging thing, as I had no tent and only a simple blanket, but luck was on my side for once. Spring had come, and it was an unseasonably dry and warm one at that.
The trip also allowed me to test my bond with Fortuna further. Every day, it deepened a little more than the last. I could sense his emotions more clearly and his mana more deeply. Moreover, I began to understand how the Aether within his flesh interacted and moved on a deeper level than ever. It was not enough to glean new insights, but I could see the first inklings of possibility on the horizon.
It was still a lonely, often unpleasant trip. I grew used to being physically exhausted in a way I had not been for months. My nerves felt frayed as I kept my senses pushed out as far as possible, anticipating an ambush that never came. Sleep was restful, not just due to the beating sun overhead but my paranoia.
Finally, I saw the dark, distant speck on the horizon. After over a month away from the city, I had returned. I just had to hope I was not too late and not about to fall into a trap.
Comments
dash w
The idea of taking the mana directly from his lungs and into his spells is cool
