The three adventurers simply stared at her, at a loss for words. The silence hung in the air, but just before Dana could become embarrassed by her own enthusiasm, Terisa spoke. “There are many historians who would give their entire fortunes to know that. I admit, I’m curious myself, but I’m more interested in what lives on this side of the canyon come nightfall.”
“I know!” Dana replied, still excited. “The larger monsters can’t cross the gorge, and now we’re in their territory. Don’t worry, though; my crawler ain’t the only toy I brought.”
Nessara failed to stifle a laugh. “‘Toy’, she says. ‘Toy’, says the woman who singlehandedly met the Expedition’s entire quota for mana crystals in the span of an hour .”
The otherworlder’s expression faded into stony silence, and she locked eyes with Nessara. “Yes,” she says firmly. “Toys. Playthings. Tactically questionable—at best —and far more flashy than effective. The fact that they seem so terrible to you…” Dana shook her head. “Some doors are better left closed , and you’d better pray the rest of my world doesn’t come here and throw ‘em open. I brought these toys , and they’ll be enough.” The woman spoke with a quiet confidence that shook Terisa. “Be thankful I choose not to build real weapons of war.”
Nessara remained quiet for a long moment. “I…find your tales hard to believe, girl. Yet I cannot gainsay them. I meant no offense,” she replied, nodding respectfully. “In numbers, your crawler would be terrifying.”
“Maybe,” Dana agreed, “but it’s slow and heavy. And it requires a [Neural Link] to control it. A normal golem core wouldn’t have the information bandwidth to make it do more than walk in one direction. For…certain definitions of walk…”
Terisa spoke up over Kojeg’s sudden laughter. “You seem fully recovered,” she noted, “from your hyper-leveling. I know Biggles—he wouldn’t turn you loose if your health were still in danger. Unless,” she amended after a moment’s thought, “he found something new to study. He may technically be a necromancer, but he takes his healing seriously.”
Dana grinned. “Both, actually! He seemed pretty sure I’m fine, except for the ambient Mana making me light-headed every now and then. And then he found some new slime critter crawling among his sample jars. Looks like a bath scrubby from home, but he called it a new species, and hasn’t left his wagon since.”
“Something strange like that could be evidence of The Burning Woman,” Nessara noted. “I don’t intend to hare off on my own to search her out, but the Magisterium did send me along to keep an eye—”
Suddenly, shouts went up from outside the walls, sharp-eyed scouts vigilant for incoming threats. As they died away, a low, buzzing thrum could be heard, rising and dropping in pitch. It grew suddenly louder as a metallic thing came zipping toward the fortress, barely above the treetops. In an instant, Terisa had nocked and drawn an arrow, Althenea charging the air around her with Mana. She was suddenly thrown to the side as Dana hurled herself at the Huntress.
“Stop! ” she yelped. “Don’t shoot my drone!”
“What?” Terisa asked, looking extremely nonplussed at the Engineer, who had nearly thrown her to the masonry. She lowered her bow, but kept it drawn as the small metal thing circled the tower before perching on Dana’s shoulder. Soft clicking sounds heralded the drone extending spindly metal legs to lock itself into her armor. Once it stopped moving, four slender splinters of Mana crystal could be seen. They were held in place by delicate copper settings bracketing a body no larger than its mistress’ forearm, vaguely reminiscent of a wingless dragonfly.
“I sent them out this morning to do aerial reconnaissance and map the Wildlands.” An aperture opened on what could have been its head, and it offered up a finger-sized piece of metal, which Dana reached back to take. “After I leveled, I was able to upgrade them a lot.”
She held up the small metal rod for her companions to see. “They can take pictures—ah, they record what they see, and store it on these little chips. I should be able to put together a detailed map of the area by…sometime this evening, of at least a few dozen miles around us.”
“Them?” asked Terisa, finally relaxing the bowstring. “How many of ‘them’ are there? And do try to warn us before you turn any more of your ‘toys’ loose, if you could.” She shook her head, letting her shoulders unknot. “We’ll be here at least another two months before we have to head back before the first snows, and I’d rather not have to intercede if someone breaks one of your toys, thinking it’s an attack.”
Dana looked appropriately chagrined, rubbing the back of her head. “S-sorry. I get excited, sometimes, when I build something new.” Her expression morphed into intense curiosity. “Are you so sure we’ll be attacked? It’s all been quiet since the stampede.”
“We’re always attacked at the fort,” Terisa responded. “More often toward the end of the Expedition, when we have wagons full of material. But…don’t let your guard down. You’ve brought in more than normal, and if this is a migration year, all sorts of monsters will be moving out of the Wanderer’s path.” Terisa slung her bow, turning back to look over the fort. “I take it these are more of your ‘toys’ Kojeg’s countrymen are setting up along the walls?”
The dwarves, having finished setting up their cannons, were now unpacking crates and setting up tripod-mounted weapons atop the parapets. They looked a bit like smaller versions of the larger cannons, an elongated box with a long, comparatively thin barrel jutting out above the wall.
Dana shook her head. “Those aren’t toys. You asked me what the Thanes requested in exchange for their sponsorship? They wanted my help improving the defenses here. Nothing they wouldn’t have worked out on their own in a couple more decades, anyway.”
“Aye,” rumbled Kojeg, masking a grin. “Weapons that throw bolts of Mana from crystals are common enough, but—”
“—the challenge is recharging the crystals fast enough to be useful,” Terisa finished, nodding. “I know. I take it you think you’ve fixed that?”
Dana nodded. “That’s why I wanted most of the tiny pieces. The big ones, sure, they power my suit and mecha, but for these, I needed a smaller size; I’d have had to break them down if I didn’t have ‘em. I actually will when I get home, if I can work out how to cast them into a substrate.”
The Worldwalker turned to Nessara with a questioning expression, and the mage considered. “Should be simple to liquefy the crystals, but once you destroy them like that, they won’t hold much of a charge, even if you resolidify them.” She leaned on her staff, frowning. “If…you don’t need much of a charge, and you just need something quick, it ought to work. It’d be weak, though. Any spell you cast won’t pack much punch, though I suppose if you had enough…” Nessara trailed off, watching as the dwarves attached flattened metal cylinders to the backs of each weapon.
Dana picked up the explanation. “I don’t have the means to make more ammo for my crawler, and I burned most of it against the stampede. These, though, are just a standard Manabolt enchantment with a rotor to connect multiple chambers to a flow of power in sequence. The crystals get fed into the rotor, cycle through the chamber, the powering crystal discharges the Mana in the chamber, then they get dumped into a hopper on the other side.” She grinned.
“So that’s why you wanted the pulverized crystals,” Nessara breathed, understanding dawning on the mage’s face. “You’ve got…what, several hundred thousand shots?”
“Just under two million,” Dana replied proudly. “But I don’t have nearly that much ready to go in drums. I’ve got two of my worker golems playing collier, so the rest of the shards should be ready within a week, unless I have to use them before they’re ready.”
As if cued, impact tremors began to resonate through the earth. Another shout went up from the scouts, and the four atop the wall watched as trees began to shake off to the south, limbs swaying and timber cracking as if under a heavy gale, though the skies remained calm.
“I think you’ll
get to put ‘em to use earlier than you thought, Worldwalker,” Terisa said, drawing her bow once again. Her [Eagle Eye] skill allowed her to confirm what she already suspected. “[Dozer Moles],” she called. “They won’t be able to go under the walls, but they’ll sure be able to go through ‘em. Looks like they’re running from something.”
Kojeg raised a brass spyglass, peering to the south alongside Terisa. “I think ye be on ta summat about it being a migration year. I’ve never seen one, but we all know the stories.”
“I’ve seen one,” Terisa replied grimly. “The first Expedition I joined, cutting my teeth on the wilds after the Third Deskren War. The Wanderer isn’t usually the problem; it’s everything running to get out of his way.”
“What’s a migration year?” Dana asked. “I never read anything about it!”
Birds and other flying creatures rose in droves from the distant trees, and the ground rumbled again. This time loose stones and gravel bounced, and the adventurers on the tower struggled to keep their feet.
“Get yer guns ready, lassie,” Kojeg warned, flexing his hand on his warhammer. “It seems ye be about to find out.”
Interlude: The Dreamer
Noah Rowland sat in a laboratory, making minute adjustments to a piece of equipment that, to him, bore striking resemblance to an advanced medical scanning machine from Earth. One had to, he supposed, make allowances for the difference in available material; in place of computer chips and circuit boards, glowing runes controlled it. Instead of surgical steel, crystal styluses allowed for manipulation. Rather than plastic, bronze and silver crafted its outer shell. It was beautiful, he thought, shot through with copper conduits to conduct the sensitive magical energies that powered it.
Such thoughts were only natural; he had built it. It had been a laborious process, requiring him to build new tools and learn an entirely new field—magic! Puzzles had long fascinated him, and magic was a puzzle like no other. Except maybe people , he thought to himself with a tinge of amusement. His fellow man remained a mystery that defied all attempts to unravel, here just as before.
It was a pity, then, that the beauty inherent in the construction of the machine was lost on the person strapped to it; Noah’s latest subject, a young man of scarcely twenty winters, held fast by magically reinforced leather straps. He was whimpering; of that Noah was certain. They always whimpered, and it had quickly got to the point where he’d installed sound-dampening enchantments in the latest iteration of his machine. All in all, an improvement, even if it cost me a week or two . The noisome screams and begging were nothing but distractions—ones Noah could ill afford when there was data to analyze.
“So,” came a refined male voice from behind him, “this device will show you more about how the collars work?”
Another distraction; this one less unwelcome, given its identity. Kavnerrin Descroix, grandson of Emperor Descroix, seventy-third in the line of succession, and Noah’s patron and benefactor. Noah turned to face him; so engrossed had he been in recording the observations from the magically projected display that he hadn’t heard his approach.
Unlike most of the Descroix line, Kavnerrin eschewed the gaudy ostentations of rank, opting instead to wear plain grey robes. He also eschewed most jewelry, save for the imperial signet ring on his left hand. This lack of display extended to his overall appearance; while most of the imperial family adorned themselves lushly, Kavnerrin preferred to go without. He was some form of [Necromancer], Noah was fairly sure, having read through most of the workshop’s library. More precisely he couldn’t say, but the man had displayed uncanny aptitude with spirit magic.
“Maybe,” Noah hedged. “So far, results haven’t matched up with the descriptions in your older journals,” he continued, setting aside his irritation at the distraction. “My working hypothesis is that when the original emperor died at the battle of Oasa, the System itself adjusted its parameters to disallow the creation of any more soul shackles.”
Kavnerrin nodded slowly. “Yes, that was the assumption of our scholars, then and now. No one has managed to recreate the originals. Conditioning collars are nothing but an imitation, using pain and pleasure stimulus.” Kavnerrin stood quietly for almost a full minute, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Raising stock from birth with those collars ends with similar results, but the skills and abilities they can learn on their own are vastly curtailed as a result. Soul Shackles let us take new classers of any level and spread their skills through the Empire.”
Noah nodded; this was nothing he hadn’t heard many times since arriving on Anfealt. Mostly in passing, of course; his arrival had sparked a quiet war, since Kavnerrin had heard from the few seers and clairvoyants the Empire had control over that a Worldwalker was due to arrive within the Empire’s territory. He’d acted swiftly and brutally, and Noah had found himself captured within minutes of arriving. Two assassinations, two public auctions, four (temporarily successful) escape attempts, and one agonizingly slow river voyage had brought him at last to the docks of Nouveau Deskra, and Kavnerrin’s workshop.
Not to say that Noah was unhappy with his current situation; far from it, in fact. Whatever luxuries he required, Kavnerrin provided; moreover, he was free to work on whatever magical puzzles struck his fancy. He was also freed from any ethical constraints regarding his work; on Earth, the minutiae of law and social mores kept him as shackled as any Deskren slave. It’s refreshing, he thought, to finally be able to study anything I find interesting, unconcerned with such trivialities .
He glanced at the display for a moment to give himself time to arrange his thoughts before returning to his patron. “The Soul Shackles, these golden collars…they simply work in ways the System itself prevents anyone from replicating. I can’t directly edit a soul, and I think it’s because the system is stopping me.” Noah made several adjustments to the ring hovering above his current subject, ignoring the blood dripping down where the man had scraped the skin of his wrists and ankles raw trying to pull his hands and feet out of the bindings. He circled the table, tapping his chin and musing, “If we can get someone of a higher level, or with a more unique class and skillset, it should be possible to acquire more data. The precise nature of how the soul interacts with a person’s magic to enable skills and levelling isn’t written down in any of the books you have here.”
After checking the restraints one final time, Noah stepped around the table and held his hand over a burnished silver sphere held within a setting of three silver clasps, like an inverted eagle’s talons. A brief pulse of light shone under his palm, and the table holding the young man pivoted upright as the ring shifted to encircle the trapped form. Kavnerrin watched with intent interest.
“So if you can’t alter the soul or bind it, what’s the purpose of this machine?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not proof from being collared, Worldwalker , and your materials are not without expense, even to me. I expect results.”
Noah didn’t respond, instead simply turning the sphere slightly, adjusting the aperture of the ring around the floating man. It started turning more rapidly as it passed up and down the man’s body, sending sheets of pale, ghostly luminescence through his frame. Soon, his tissues began to glow with a golden light, as if something had been brought to the surface.
“If the soul is the problem, isn’t it more effective to simply disconnect it?” Noah asked.
Kavnerrin frowned, considering the implication. “Without the soul, there would be no—”
“No Soul Crime, yes?” Noah suggested.
The light suffusing the man’s body intensified, and he seemed to subtly vibrate as the glowing afterimage almost bent toward the ring. It slid down to his feet and began spinning faster still, emitting a high-pitched, whining hum that made Noah’s ears ache before it quickly faded, too high to be heard. Suddenly the ring rose around the man’s body—and the golden image came with it, all the way to his head, and then beyond . The ring lifted clear from the man’s body, and the golden light condens
ed into a small orb, suspended in midair. It flickered once, then twice—then winked out of existence. The man’s struggles ceased, his breathing slowing down to a measured pace.
“I’m not entirely sure where the soul goes afterward, but disconnecting it from the subject’s body gives me a lot more flexibility,” Noah explained. “The soul itself also gives me a wealth of information. Now that I can replicate it in the lab, retrofitting the spell matrix to function alongside your conditioning collars is just math. Someone of higher level might be able to resist, but…given time, the Golden Collars shouldn’t be necessary.”
“Alongside?” Kavnerrin’s expression quickly flickered between horror, disgust, and greed, before settling on elation.
“It should be possible to apply the severing enchantment matrix to existing conditioning collars that are already in use,” Noah confirmed. “I’ll need a few higher-levelled test subjects to refine the matrix. I suspect the more powerful the subject, the greater the energy released upon severing the soul from the shell.”
At his command, the table returned to horizontal. Noah released the shackles from the young man’s form as the rings returned to a resting position at the head of the table. With a disinterested expression, the man sat up under his direction, then smoothly stood and walked to the other end of the room, where the Worldwalker pointed. Several other young men and women stood there, faces blank as they waited for orders.
“Apply it to existing collars?” Kavnerrin could barely keep the avarice out of his tone. “Without physically replacing them?”
“Exactly that, yes. The conditioning collars are linked to the control rings—what you call the ‘leashes’. The leashes I’ve seen all link to higher-ranked rings held by your peers in the nobility.” Noah made several more notes on a sheet of parchment, not needing to return to his machine’s display to recall the readings it had given while removing the man’s soul. “I presume there’s a master leash of some form or another, yes? One that controls all the collars? With that, I could apply the severing spell to every collar in the Empire at once!”
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