Artorian's Archives Omnibus

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  “Like this!” Ember shouted the words at him over her shoulder as she lost control of her roiling emotions. Trees occupying a conical area in front of her mouth conflagrated, cracked, fell over, and splintered as they were converted into ash. The wood burned to nothing before it ever hit the ground, and everything in her vicinity had its moisture sapped. Any tree, undergrowth, or similar material began to flake and turn to sooty dust as she became the bonfire.

  Her external Aura was pulled tight around her body, and her Mana fueled the power of the blaze. Hot, cyan-white flame seared the landscape without ever touching it. She devastated the surroundings as her rage built, and only when she’d gotten a hold of herself did the volcanic pyroclasm of her being sizzle and die out.

  Oh. Oh no. Her eyes went wide, and she swayed on the spot. She’d lost control. Artorian must have been vaporized. Panic struck her as she turned on her heel and saw the old human standing there with both his hands raised, dumbstruck and with his mouth wide open. A thin red glow wobbled in a mist before him, a huge chunk of released Auric fire Essence sticking close to his skin. He wasn’t unharmed, but he was alive, and mumbling something.

  “Ar… Artorian! Are you alright?” Artorian collapsed to his knees, still wide-eyed with his arms outstretched. His new clothes were in a sorry state, and he had a wicked sunburn with horribly chapped lips.

  Ember pressed her hands to his face and poured Mana into her desires. She didn’t use this particular configuration on others, and it was going to burn. Specifically, it was going to feel like a burn. As the effect rushed over Artorian, his face cleared up while healthy new skin grew. The damaged top layer flaked off as he took a breath, and he clung to her wrists as she breathed new life into his scorched being. He blinked a few moments later, wordlessly getting up when she let go. Without thought, he pulled free his waterskin, and downed the entire thing without pause. “Ahhh.”

  “Artorian?”

  “So…” He nodded, stowing the completely drained water source as he brushed himself clean. Ember looked him all over, concerned he was about to mention an injury she’d missed. “Like rejects like.”

  She frowned. Was he talking about basic Essence interactions? Everyone knew tha… oh. If they’d been taught, they knew. Artorian had just figured out something she’d thought had been basic knowledge all this time, and he’d said it with the emphasis of a profound discovery. At least he was uninjured. Shouldn’t he be furious?

  “Fire can heal, it seems? Burned like Dwarven brandy all the way down.”

  Ember sighed, put her hands into her hair, and sat on a charred lump of coal that used to be a proud tree trunk. “Any Essence can create any effect, given you know how. The… side effects differ depending on which Essence is used. Mana is no different in that regard, except that it is skewed to the idea it is latched to at an extreme. I can heal, I just… didn’t think I could.”

  Ember regarded her own hands in wonder. She’d never done that before to someone else… she was a weapon of war. A killer. An ender of lives. She did not linger in the medical tents or do more than light pyres for the fallen. This was a new application, and something in her spirit unfurled its wings. She could practically hear the sounds of a metal birdcage snapping apart with the new freedom she had found. Had… had he done that on purpose?

  Chapter Thirteen

  A lingering winter season later, Ember and Artorian crossed into the next grove’s threshold. Baobab enthusiastically waved at them. The stoic Mage seemed happy to see this Wood Elf, and the pace of her step increased. It made the old man groan since travel was nothing but walking. His hand had been pressing against his hip for the last week. Could they just sit now?

  Ember called out when she was greeted by a familiar face. “You fire-resistant tart, how have you been?”.

  Baobab laughed strong and deep as she approached, slapping the Mage on the shoulder for effect. “Better than you, you sight for sore eyes. Give me a hug, I’ll even pretend it sizzled.”

  The Elf didn’t know what to do when Ember actually went in for a hug. Sure, her arms had been wide open in invitation, but her questioning gaze weighed on Artorian. She wordlessly asked ‘what the abyss?’ when it actually happened. Ember had never done this in the several decades Baobab had known the Mage.

  Artorian shrugged, his clothes replaced by a poorly shaped bearskin that covered what it needed to. “She’s trying new things. Let it happen.”

  “O… Olive! Come look at this!” Another Elf sprinted from the nearby canopy opening to where the group had gathered, and stopped in his tracks to stare in stunned silence. Olive looked the most human of any Wood Elf Artorian had seen. The man had real hair, even if it appeared slicked back. Given how easily his fingers went through it when he held his head at the sight, Artorian guessed it was rather oily.

  “Nhoo.”

  “Si!”

  “Nhoo…”

  “Si!”

  “Nhoo. No. I am dreaming. I am having the strange dreams again.”

  Ember let Baobab go, and nudged her with a fist. It was harmless, but Baobab moved a few inches regardless as she put up her dukes. She playfully winked at the Mage and pressed her knuckles to the Mage’s cheek, making the sound effect. “Phaaf!”

  The Fire Soul chuckled, and Artorian raised his eyebrows at the reaction. Just a sandstorm of new experiences, this forest. Olive kept his hands in his, well... Olive colored hair. Pretty straightforward, that one. He needed a moment, but waved both his hands in front of his face and just shook off the shock. “Later, later. Figure this out later. You! I have made the meals. Come, come!”

  Ember slung her arm around Baobab and went along for the ride, whispering as they moved to catch up. “Still just you?”

  Baobab affirmed the guess with repeated nods. “Still just me and Olive. Also, still only one of Olive. We’re just not that popular to join. The saplings get free choice when they hit adulthood, and you know who the popular votes are.”

  Artorian made an offhand guess as he followed them. “Oak?”

  The groan from Baobab and Olive was so loud and unchecked at the mention, that both of them shared a cringe. Baobab pulled a face, “Please don’t mention that… awful name while you are in my grove. Even if you’re correct.”

  The old man pressed no further, and followed his nose more than the people. He’d caught the scent of food, and it smelled delicious. Better than fried, charred, or other methods of preparation that involved meat. He was in a forest with Elves, where had the abyssal vegetables been? He sat down with Olive, and asked a question that came to mind. “Isn’t Ember breaking the rules of the forest by killing live animals for food?”

  Olive flatly regarded the human. “We’re going to do what about that, exactly?”

  The matter was considered, and dropped. “Fair point. Silly question. Ember’s gonna be Ember.”

  Olive agreed with a nod, and served the human food as Artorian shoveled crudité into his mouth. Vegetables, and fresh fruits! Oh goodness it was so good! He was eating with such vigor that he didn’t even notice the other two join them. Baobab stared at him for a few minutes before even saying anything, captured by the view. “How is he eating so much?”

  Ember laughed and slapped the table. “Someone decided to ‘honeycomb’ his entire webway, locking off his Center’s ability to feed his Meridians properly. Now he has to get all his nutrients the old-fashioned way, and he need lots of them. Makes me wonder how he keeps so thin.”

  She prodded a finger into his side, but after a small jump and shuffling away an inch, the eating just continued. Artorian was famished. Olive spoke over the crunching noises of the human eating him out of house and grove. “We heard… about Sequoia. Terrible thing. An update: The blight has been avoiding groves in your path, so you should have a while?”

  Ember nodded; she’d figured as much. “I’m… glad to be here. This was always one of my favorite groves.”

  Baobab and Olive shared a surprised look. “You’ve ne
ver told us that.”

  The soup-slurping human dabbed his mouth clean with the edge of his bearskin, and repeated himself after swallowing his current mouthful. “She’s trying new things.”

  Ember mumble-grumbled, poking him harder at the embarrassment. The sound he made was animalistic, and he was on the ground after the yelp, firmly holding his side with a groan as she chided him. “You big baby.”

  The old man huffed in irritation, and clambered back to his spot. “Hothead.”

  Ember wasn’t playing this game. “Old complainer that would be making actual progress if he wasn’t trying ‘little projects’ all the time.”

  Artorian tried to bite back his words that popped into his mind, but they came out anyway. “Blind family-killing zealot.”

  Ember stood up and stomped away through her seat. Pieces of stone launched outwards as the pulverized granite bench exploded into a cloud of stone dust. Unlike the old man, she was successfully biting back power and commentary even as it rained down gravel. Both the tree spirits scrambled to get up. Olive pulled Artorian away while Baobab took off in a full run after her friend. “Emby. Emby!”

  Baobab caught up after half an hour, and that was while using forest-movement tricks. Why did Mages have to be so blazing fast? The Wood Elf found Ember face-down and holding her knees, crumpled against a tree in misery. She sat down next to the Fire Soul and wrapped her arms around Ember’s neck, simply holding her. The burning indent Ember was making in the tree left a significantly singed outline behind. Bao wasn’t afraid to get burned, which would have been a sizable concern for most others.

  “Talk to me…” Ember made a weak sound. It didn’t sound like speech. “Don’t make me do the thing. You know I will.”

  Another muffled sound escaped Ember, and Bao narrowed her eyes. She shuffled around, kneeled, and pressed their foreheads together.

  The Mage snapped her eyes open as Bao yelled right into Ember’s mind. This was a specialty of hers. It needed physical connection, but the invasion still sent a burning shrill up Ember’s spine as the heat in their vicinity spiked.

  After all, she was C-ranked, and Ember was a Mage. Bao may have been fine, but a few blinks later and Ember realized she’d once again turned her surroundings into a charred wasteland. Bao brushed some excess flame from her shoulder. There were benefits to being fireproof with some well-placed Essence. “Talk to me.”

  Ember held the Wood Elf’s hands in her own to squeeze. “I thought… I thought we were over it. I thought it was the end of it… I can’t… I just can’t handle these reminders of my constant failures. I can’t, Bibi, I just can’t. The blight whispers it to me anytime I try to sleep. Anytime I rest my eyes. It’s there. Reminding me. I can’t deal with it in my waking moments as well.”

  Baobab pulled Ember closer to hold, rubbing the back of her head like the supportive mother she was. “We all fail, Emby. Then we get back up.”

  The Mage didn’t have a response, simply resting her head against Bibi as she was held. “I’m so tired… Mages aren’t supposed to need sleep.”

  The Elf nodded and pressed her neck onto Ember’s face to obscure her vision. “Take a nap. It’s safe. I’ll be here with my mind shield. Take a nap.”

  She didn’t get a response from Ember, and didn’t need one. The Fire Soul had passed her limit, and passed out. Sighing in quasi-relief, Baobab touched foreheads with her friend. Bibi extended the same protection she used to keep the blight’s mental sting away from herself. A moment later, the mental waves they made in the forest ceased rippling.

  The blight swelled. It combined, converged, wailed, and swarmed to the area Artorian occupied. With the complete lack of Presence the main defender exuded, the roaring mental predator hissed its doubt attacks forwards. Hundreds of blight-forms howled mental cries as the phantom-smog roiled forwards and pushed towards Olive’s grove.

  “Like this you said?”

  Olive smiled at Artorian’s query, nodding with crossed arms as he watched the onslaught of tarry darkness crash through the grove’s barrier. The tsunami wave of black smoke hungrily descended, impatient to fall upon its prey. “Mhm. I rea~a~ally hope this works.”

  The Academic winked at him. “I needed the chance to test… this!”

  The blight collapsed on the grove’s sanctum, swallowing both the figures… for a bare moment before detonating from the inside. Repeatedly, the bubbling smoke continued to crash on a piece of space that didn’t fill in properly. The raging, half-witted phantom blight didn’t care about that minor detail. It needed only to engulf the prey! Then overpower it with mental screams, visions of repetitive torment, and perpetual failure. It needed to seed doubt, and when a crack had formed in the consciousness, it would feast!

  Rays of light pierced through the collapsing ashen dome of darkness again and again. The roiling form swallowed up every opening made. All available empty space was to be consumed, and the wailing phantoms continued to crash into the grove’s sanctum.

  “Neat.” Olive’s voice was peppy as he watched the show from inside the spectacle. He had to shield his eyes from the living lightbulb, but couldn’t hide his happiness in the slightest at seeing this menace get just wrecked.

  Artorian had learned; something he did quickly and efficiently. His impromptu defense against Ember’s burning outbursts had led him to ask himself a few simple questions. He could create different visual effects when cycling Essence types to his eyes. Were mechanisms the same if he added those combinations to his Aura? Would they stack?

  So it was that the combination for starlight Essence had been thrown into his Aura. Slapped together by near-pure will. His external Auric network wasn’t built in the slightest, and had no defined shape or form. He had expected that there would be some effect, but… wow, the result was flashy.

  Literally flashy, as the starlight combination living in his Aura lit him up like a beacon. A beacon that radiated a single, defining order.

  Erase.

  With the phantom blight being all identity, mind, and thought. There was no resistance as the light continually punched through, and lanced away, its intended target. Olive wasn't affected in the slightest. His physical form and personal Aura were barely dented by the luminescent oomph Artorian was putting out.

  The blight, a being that had never needed to defend itself, couldn’t comprehend why the attempts at ‘consuming’ kept failing. The blight could not reach the Center of the grove. While tendrils of it got close, any that touched the light twisted in on itself and disintegrated. Direct contact with this Aura made entire cloudforms of tarry smog vanish as they ventured in to grapple the old academic.

  Artorian was sweating by the time there was so little blight left that the remainder fizzled away into the surroundings. He fell on his tooshie, then released the effect by pulling all the refined Essence back into himself. Olive sat next to him, and the duo clapped hands together above their heads. A proper high five. “Please tell me you didn’t piss off the Fire Soul just to pull this scheme.”

  Artorian sat back, and pulled some cooked vegetables out of his pouch. Olive looked at the food, “When did you even sneak those in there?”

  “Would it make you feel better if I said I didn’t try to anger her? That it was thoughtless action?”

  “So you did do it on purpose!” Olive groaned, “Why…?”

  The old man shrugged. “Because… because she was right. I’ve been dawdling. I’ve been so obsessed with… other things. Focusing on the matter at hand hasn’t been possible for me; until Sequoia, I don’t believe my heart was truly in the fight. I have some differences with Ember that I need to properly address, and she has some things she needs to come clean about. We can’t both continue half-heartedly muddling our way through this, mulling along pretending there isn’t a problem. For all the hate that girl has for politics, she sure likes to use it to hide her pain.”

  Artorian took a seat on the non-wrecked bench. “We need a proper clean
slate. Don’t we, Ember?”

  Olive didn’t understand why he referenced someone that wasn’t here, then realized he couldn’t feel Baobab. He jumped up to frantically look around, then found Ember and Bao at the grove’s edge just by turning around. The Fire Soul’s arm was around Baobab, and it looked like they’d gotten over here in a hurry.

  Too late to help, but not too early to miss the old man’s venting. Artorian scooted to the right, and tapped the empty space on the bench next to him. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The seat remained empty. Ember stood there, conflicted. The notion of a schism was a topic neither the ancient Mage nor the Wood Elves were willing to broach.

  Bao whispered under her breath. “We could go for a walk, Fire S…”

  Even though she was fireproof, the red flames that raced over her bark silenced Bao. “Don’t call me that! I’m not the aspect of fire. I’m sick and tired of all the bootlicking.”

  Bao clamped her mouth shut while Ember stared daggers at the old man. Her grip on the Wood Elf’s shoulder tightened, but nothing shattered, even though it sounded like Bao was about to lose an arm.

  “How… how long have you known?” Ember was trying to find stability, her voice wavering regardless of her abundant power.

  Artorian just shrugged and pushed an acorn around on the table. “For the same length of time that I haven’t been taking things seriously.”

  Ember squeezed her free hand into a fist. “So, the whole time?”

  Artorian leaned forwards on the table and laced his fingers together. “The whole time.”

  Released with a sizzle, Bao marched straight to Olive, took him by the elbow, and kept on marching without a second glance behind them. Not risking that again. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not doing it. Ember was the human’s problem now.