HankTheMoose
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3.16 Portal to Nowhere
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 15:07:43 +0000 UTCIn the end, it wasn’t quite as simple as Bernt had predicted. Hallan had a strong grasp of runes and warding and it took the librarian only a moment to point out several obvious problems that needed solving before they could actually try to create a portal to nowhere.
For one, there was no guarantee that such a portal would be stable, or that its collapse wouldn’t cause an explosion, or that some unnameable horror from beyond space and time wouldn’t come climbing out of it at the first opportunity.
Fortunately for the three mages, all of these risks were familiar problems for summoners – ones with established solutions. While the other two watched, Hallan simplified the base form of a traditional summoning portal down into a much more basic rune circle. That done, he began to reconfigure it, inscribing various protective features one after another. It was tricky work, since runes didn’t just interact based on their sequence. Their orientation modulated their effect, and the way different runes were positioned from each other across the circle could further alter their function, much as they did when used as part of a spellform.
Bernt watched his friend work, impressed. All mages learned runes, of course, but it was a very deep field of study with broad applications. He’d focused on those most relevant to his own area of expertise – pyromancy – and he hadn’t bothered with warding at all. Adventurers rarely had time to carve or paint wards in a fight, after all. Hallan, on the other hand, had at least passing competence with all kinds of runes that had absolutely nothing to do with his chosen specialization. Or maybe they did. What did he know what a professional librarian needed to know?
It made Bernt want to carve out some time to study up on the subject. A more general mastery of runes might be exactly what he needed to help him work out how to develop his sorcerous investiture. For that matter, it could be applied to more advanced spell development.
But that was just a fantasy for now. He didn’t have time to start on another personal project, and time was running out. He could worry about runes when all this was over.
Another minute later, Hallan looked up from his work and grinned.
"I think that's it. We should test it!"
“I know a good place to experiment with dangerous spells,” Bernt said, grabbing his notes. “Do you guys have time to try it out?”
***
Bernt cast his now well-practiced stone shaping spell, creating a smooth, hard surface along the rocky riverbank outside the city where he usually practiced his larger pyromancy spells. Hallan, clutching his robe around himself in the chilly winter weather, immediately crouched down and began to trace out runes in chalk.
Therion was properly dressed for the weather, with heavy boots, a scarf and a warm, hooded robe. Hallan, on the other hand, was shivering in his thin brown librarian’s robes, which obviously weren’t meant for outdoor work. Taking pity on his friend, Bernt carefully cast a mundane torch spell just upwind, modulating the size as he shaped the spellform to put out a bit more heat. It wasn’t very efficient, but it should help a little. Hallan looked up for a moment when he felt the warm breeze and examined the spell curiously for a second before returning to work.
Therion gave Bernt a strange look and gestured at the perfectly level stone surface.
“Hey, since when did you get good at geomancy?”
“I couldn’t afford furniture when I moved to the Undercity,” Bernt admitted with a shrug. “I spent a lot of time practicing.” He’d kept trying to improve his work, even after the battle. It looked pretty good now, even if his couch was still uncomfortable. In the end, he hadn’t bought anything in the way of furniture except a proper straw mattress for his stone bed. Just because he had a bit of gold to his name again didn’t mean he could afford to spend it frivolously. Even now, he wasn’t sure he could afford the robes he wanted before he left. They would be pricey even without the enchantments. By the time Grixit was done with them, he might be in debt.
“I guess that makes sense.” Therion said, a little dubiously. “That has to slow down your development, though, right?”
Bernt shrugged. “Eh. I have time – I don’t know how I’m going to finish my augmentation yet, anyway.” No matter what he did, he would have to adjust his spellcasting at least once more – and maybe many more times if Pollock was right about his sorcerous investiture. If he could keep growing it without ever reaching a bottleneck, he might still have a very long way to go. It didn’t really make sense to spend all his time perfecting casting habits that would be obsolete each time he got a new investiture. That thought raised another question, though.
“So, why haven’t you finished your augmentation yet?” Bernt asked carefully. Traditionally, mages waited a few years after graduating from the academy to begin the investment process. Once they started, though, they would normally finish the entire augmentation within weeks or months – as long as they had the materials. But Bernt doubted that Therion would have any trouble paying… so, had there been an accident with his last investiture?
Therion smirked. “What’s the matter, are you worried about me?”
“No…?” Bernt said, unsure. “I mean, I could tell you probably had some kind of scrying investiture back when we were in the dungeon. I can't get a far sight spell to take at all, never mind holding it for a couple of minutes like you did. But I haven’t seen or heard anything from you since. Shouldn’t you be a magister by now?”
“Nah.” Therion said, shaking his head. “It’s a scrying and force build. Classic precision combat architecture, sort of. A rare variant. The third investiture requires an artificial material – a kind of arcane iron that compresses objects placed onto it. They use it to make metalworking implements at Bronzeforge Hall in the Confederacy. The problem is that it’s proprietary. They don’t allow any outside their borders, so I have to travel there to do the investiture. My dad was going to take me.” The mage threw a glance over his shoulder, back toward the city. “Now… well, it’s going to have to wait.”
“You should consult with some of the smiths in the Crafters’ Quarter.” Hallan suggested, finishing a rune and standing up to stretch his legs. “Even if they don’t have exactly what you’re talking about, I’d be surprised if they didn’t have a reasonable analogue. Crafters don’t like to let little things like laws or borders keep them from getting their hands on the best tools.”
Therion shook his head, raising both hands in denial. “Thanks, but no. I don’t mind some risk, but I’m not going to cut corners when it comes to my mana network. Some things are just too important. All this really costs me is time. It’s not a big deal.”
Bernt looked down at his right arm and the luminous shape of his sorcerous investiture underneath the skin. It was a risk. But sometimes risks could pay off, too. Still, there was a good reason most mages didn’t experiment with their investitures. He couldn’t fault Therion for playing it safe.
Stepping up to Hallan’s portal, Bernt crouched down next to it to examine the runes. The circle was small, only about two feet wide. That was probably a safety feature. Smaller portals couldn’t do as much damage as big ones, right?
“So, how do I use it?” he asked. “Do I step inside?”
“No!” Hallan said quickly, holding out a hand to stop him as if he feared that Bernt was about to follow words with action. He cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s probably safe, but no. Nothing physical should be able to pass through in either direction, and it blocks most forms of energy, but why risk it? Just run a bit of your spirit into it and see what happens.”
Cautiously, Bernt extended his left hand and pushed on his own spirit just as he normally did during an investment procedure. A glowing loop emerged from his palm and grew as he pushed it out further, moving his hand a bit to get it inside the circle. The thread of his spirit passed over the runes easily, but his hand was repelled with increasing force as he got closer to the area enclosed by the circle.
Pushing back slightly to keep his hand from bouncing back, Bernt concentrated on his familiar bond.
A small imp looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. It wasn’t Jori – this one was barely bigger than she had been when he’d found her in the sewers over two years ago. It whimpered piteously as he flinched back in surprise, beating his wings to catch his balance. What was that?
No, he hadn’t flinched back. It was Jori. Hey, was she bullying a little imp?
Indignation filled their familiar bond, even as Jori looked over her shoulder, wondering how Bernt had managed to reach them. Had Ed done something? Why would he bring Bernt here?! This place was terrible! And she wasn’t bullying Ionathath here, she was saving her from an evil fiend. It wasn’t her fault if the little imp didn’t know what was good for her!
Bernt’s head spun. This wasn’t right. The connection was much stronger than it should have been. He practically felt like he was Jori, and it didn't seem to be going much better for her. This rune circle thing was going to take some getting used to.
With effort, Bernt focused on his own surroundings – the cold wind contrasting with the warmth of his torch spell, the rush of the river, and the odd sensation of the portal’s built-in wards pushing back on his hand. It helped, drawing his mind and his sense of self back.
“Jori?” he said out loud. “Just listen to my voice. Is that better?”
“Bernt!” Jori replied. “What? Where are you? How are you doing that?”
***
Ed conjured more water into his cup, took a sip and watched Jori drag another imp into their camp – a cave of sorts that he’d bored into the side of a low cliff. His tunneling spells were more than a little rusty, but after a few embarrassing failures, he’d managed. Their six prisoners were penned up in a large stone cage he’d made at the back of the space.
Initially, all this geomancy felt like a waste of time and effort – at least until Maladzhoth tried to fling some hellfire at him. He’d suspended him upside down in the air and spun him around until he vomited bug bits for that. None of the others had tried anything since, calling him Great One and groveling when he got too close. Those that could talk chattered and bickered constantly while the smaller, more animalistic ones did their best to participate nonverbally, chittering, hissing and smacking at each other.
They were downright collegial toward Jori, who had commended him for smacking sense into them. Despite their friendly attitude toward her, though, she insisted they needed to stay locked up tight until their blood fiend master was dead. Otherwise they would try to escape or attack. That was why Jori wanted to capture as many imps as possible before confronting Tallash – they would be obligated to defend the fiend otherwise, and Jori wanted to minimized “friendly” casualties. Ed knew that demons loved their rules and agreements, of course, but this all seemed a bit ridiculous.
Jori was chatting happily at the tiny imp that she dragged along by the scruff of its neck. It chittered nervously as it caught sight of the others in the cell.
“Do you think they would let Oren sponsor her?” she asked. “I don’t know why the Thieves’ Guild doesn’t work with imps all the time. Ionathath is very sneaky!”
“What?” Ed squinted at her in confusion. “The thieves don’t have a formal charter, they’re not a real guild. Nobody’s going to let them sponsor anything. Is that what you’re hoping is going to happen? Because it’s not going to work.”
Jori blinked at him. “Huh? Oh. No, I was asking Bernt! Hey, maybe Josie will help – she’s suing the government in Teres for me! And the Adventurers’ Guild likes me, too. It doesn’t matter, first we get rid of Tallash. I can work out the rest later. Bernt will figure it out!”
Ed stared at her for a moment before lifting a hand to rub at his temple. Great. Jori was losing it. She hadn’t seemed that stressed… was something messing with her mind?
Jori paced in a circle. She shrugged, nodded and then grunted questioningly as if having a conversation with herself.
“Well, I mean, they are trying to kill you.” Jori finally said. “Maladzoth said there’s a reward! Maybe the shade thought it could scare you to death, or something. Humans can die from that, right?”
Ed frowned at the imp. Demons were still attacking people in Halfbridge? He would have thought the Solicitors would be more thorough, now that the battle was over. Still, Bernt was well-equipped to deal with this sort of threat, as long as he didn’t get caught with his pants down.
“Tell him to experiment with that banefire spell some more,” he said, trying a simple scrying spell to look for mind magic. Could she really be talking to Bernt from here? How would that work? “Ask him what’s new in Halfbridge.”
“I already did. He says that Nuros destroyed Loamfurth!” Jori said bluntly. “And he ate all of the souls. Uriah is back with lots of refugees – he was there!”
Ed choked on his water, sending some spurting out of his nose. He coughed and raised a sleeve to wipe at his face. He’d gotten the spell off first, thankfully, but there was nothing to see.
“How?” he asked hoarsely. Also, why hadn’t anyone updated him about this yet? Annoyed, he tried a different spell to look for environmental effects.
“I don’t know,” Jori replied, “I guess he ran away in time?”
“No, not what I meant,” Ed replied, fixing her with a stern stare. The scrying spells weren't showing him anything, but he needed to know if this was real. “How are you talking with Bernt?”
The little imp next to Jori tried to edge away from her, apparently intimidated by him, but Jori held it tight. She seemed completely relaxed. Happy, even.
“He has a circle of runes, and Therion is there and another mage – but I don’t know that one. It has a lot of symbols in it, not like the ones he normally makes. Anyway, it makes our soulbond work better! A lot better, actually. It’s weird.”
“Your familiar bond? It’s still working?” Ed didn’t know what to make of that, but it sounded crazy. Familiar bonds relied on proximity, after all, and they weren't even occupying the same spatial fabric. What the hell was that boy up to? “What kind of rune circle?”
With a hiss, the little imp tried to make a run for it again, but Jori caught it by its ear and stopped it cold. It growled and scratched at Jori, but she dodged and thumped it on the head.
“Right,” Ed grunted and pinned the other imps against the far wall with a force barrier before shaping an opening into the stone bars. “Pack that one away with the others, then tell me everything.”
Jori complied, dropping the resisting imp into the cell and hissing at it when it turned, looking for a way past her. Ed closed the opening again and Jori turned, continuing as if nothing had happened.
“He says it’s a portal, like for summoning things, but the portal doesn’t go anywhere? What?” As she spoke, Jori’s tone became more and more skeptical. “Bernt, I can’t tell him that. That sounds stupid!”
Ed shook his head. “No, I can guess.” Summoning was, by definition, the practice of breaching planar barriers. It was obvious that he didn't have access to a proper demon summoning ritual, so he'd punched a hole out of the mortal plane and then somehow patched a connection through to them. There was no telling how he'd pulled off that last part, but it wasn't important right now. They were getting side-tracked.
Ed craved information. “He can tell us about it later. Ask him about the situation back home. What happened to Loamfurth, exactly? What are they doing about it? Do they know where Nuros will strike next?”
Comments
Stephen Pearson
Thanks for the chapter! :-)
Antony Claughton
Now I REALLY want the next chapter! :)
Antony Claughton
minimized ==> minimize
Armo
Ah, now Ed knows that Bernt’s up to some shenanigans! I wonder if he will be horrified of the potential of this to go real wrong, nervous about Bernt’s bond with Jori being far more complex than anticipated, eager to support Bernt because this is really useful/fascinating, or both in equal measure.
