“But the basic reflection matrix does work. What if you quit worrying about making it the perfect spell, and instead put the reflection matrix on top of your standard shield? I wouldn’t even worry about accurately reflecting the energy back at the caster, so long as you are reflecting energy away from the shield. Low energy attacks still get though, so what? You’ve got your standard shield for that. But a high energy attack that before would have gotten though would now have about 80-90% of its energy reflected away from the shield, which would in turn allow the standard shield hold? Of course, you’d have to stabilize the matrix and the initial energy would have to be manageable.”
Dallen sat up with a jerk and practically grabbed the scrolls from Tiberius. “Good lord, we never thought of that. Russ, bring me my slide rule!” he called out in an excited voice. “Yes, yes, it should work! We actually did something similar while testing the prismatic shield, it just never occurred to us to take what we had perfected and use it in conjunction with another shield. On its own, the prismatic shield is useless, but layered into a web of shields it would be invaluable for stopping high energy attacks. The true reflection effect would work occasionally, especially with some of the larger attacks. High momentum low energy attacks would still be a problem.”
“Yes, a giant slowly swinging a massive club at me would go right through this shield. But then I don’t need to stand there like an idiot and let that sort of attack hit me. A shield isn’t an excuse to fall asleep. Another danger is attacks on that fine line between what the standard shield can absorb and what triggers the reflection matrix. A band of goblins beating on me with swords would eventually render me insensible. For such occasions the best defense would be a good offense.”
“Yes, well, there is no perfect defense, but if you can layer this on over our standard shield, this would make it pretty amazingly good. Even with a troll pounding on you, you’d certainly have time to hit back before you took any serious damage.”
Russ brought in Dallen’s enchanted slide rule which Dallen practically grabbed out of his hands in his excitement. He proceeded to run over the equations, the slide rule making quite an impressive bit of movement on its own as it did calculations for him.
“I don’t really want a shield where I can be hit and never feel it,” Tiberius said. “I want to feel what’s happening around me and be able to react. I don’t want to ever think I’m invulnerable.”
“Yes, yes, it should work!” Dallen said excitedly. “You’ll have to be up on the true name of prisms and reflections. A bit of extra reading on optics, but if you can cast it, it will provide an exceptional defense. Another benefit is that it will be a nightmare for an enemy wizard to dispel. You’d need to know the true name of reflection to dispel the shield, and I really doubt too many of our opponents have sat around reading books on advanced optics.”
“I think I can cast it. It should fit into the matrix. It will be a bear to cast the first few times, but I think if I practice this winter I can have the whole thing stable by spring and the campaign season.”
“How many spells in the matrix?” Dallen asked.
“Five. The vapor shield, the reflection shield, the force shield, dragon skin, and the internal strength.”
“Ah, Messura’s hospital shield, 'the wash of regeneration'. I don’t think he envisioned that as a combat spell.”
”He made it to save lives and that’s what it will be doing,” Tiberius said.
“How is your vapor shield coming?” Dallen asked. “That’s a nice piece of work.”
“It’s quite stable now. Seems to work as I expected. Better, really.”
“What’s that, something new?” Russell asked.
“Just another modification really.”
“Nonsense, Tiberius is too modest. It’s a completely original effect. It’s a bubble of controlled atmosphere that surrounds the caster. It resists all environmental changes. Heat, cold, poison gas. The bubble also provides resistance to large scale shockwaves and breath attacks. It absorbs energy by flexing and shifting about the caster, so it will tend to let shockwaves flow around it,” Dallen said.
“Excellent,” Russ said with admiration.
“Just a couple of hours and I think we should have this up and running.”
It actually took a couple of days to finish the calculations, and by the second day Singh had stopped by.
They went into the backyard. Dallen erected some walls of earth and ice, leaving only a small opening. Tiberius stood in front of this with the new shield. It took him about fifteen minutes to cast the five shields the first time, but at last he said he was ready and they started testing. Singh started out with a few low power firebolts.
He watched them bounce off Tiberius. “How’s that?” he asked.
“Good,” Tiberius answered. “Just a slight jolt.”
“Right, well this will be more intense. We’ll try the vapor shield.”
Singh let loose with a real blast of fire this time. The flames were a steady stream like a dragon’s breath. At least a small dragon. They could see them impact the edge of the vapor shield. Tiberius felt a strong circulating breeze whirling within the shield as air circulated to meet the threat and radiate the heat safely away.
“Interesting,” Dallen said. “You note you are getting a slight reaction from the prismatic shield, too; it’s helping reflect heat away from you.”
“Excellent. Better than we expected,” Tiberius said.
“Yes, well, we’ll try a bit of direct energy now.” Singh walked behind the bunker now and tried a lightning blast.
He saw the prismatic shield react and deflect most of the energy away. Dallen tried a firebolt next, a sharp piercing bolt of fire. It also deflected against the shield.
“How are you doing? Dallen asked.
“Pretty good,” Tiberius answered. “I wouldn’t want to do that all day. A bit’s still getting through, just a bit of a jolt. The internal strength is helping though.”
“Since you’re taking enough energy to stop a charging bull in its tracks, I’d say you’re doing pretty well.”
“We’ll try a frostbolt next I think,” Singh said. He threw a fast moving bolt of ice at Tiberius. It hit the reflection shield and Singh was somewhat alarmed to see a bolt of ice bounce back right at him. He was able to duck behind the wall but he noted the icebolt flew back exactly towards where his hand had been.
“I thought you said the reflection didn’t work?” Singh said.
“It missed you, didn’t it?” Dallen said laughing. “I never said it didn’t work; I said it was inefficient and unreliable. Every once in awhile if you hit the shield just right with enough power you’ll get a clean reflection. I’d watch it with the really high energy heat beams or lighting if I were you.”
There was a bit more testing but by the end of the day, they were sure it was working. Tiberius spend most of the winter practicing casting it properly. It was tricky, but there was a certain elegance to the procedure. Working from inside-out, he cast spells of internal strength, dragon skin, armored shield, prismatic reflection, and finally the vapor shield. It was the limit for what he could keep going a at moment’s notice. He hoped it would be enough.
∴
The first test came in early March. Tiberius rode out with the Rangers. Lord Brandon was leading a patrol looking over the countryside, riding next to Tiberius. March had come in like a lion and the sky was grey and overcast. Lord Brandon was frowning at the state of the roads, which were damp and muddy as the cold weather was not quite cold enough for a frost.
“I’d like to get these paved but the government will never approve that kind of expenditure,” Lord Brandon was saying.
“I don’t like this mist,” Tiberius said suddenly. The left side of the road had taken to a bit of fog which seemed to him unnaturally denser than the thin wisps around on the right.
“It should burn off soon,” Lord Brandon started to say. Just then they were interrupted. A wild looking m
an with a bald head, save for a long black ponytail, jumped out of the fog. He did seem to be a human, though a foreign sort with coppery skin. He had black tribal tattoos covering the left side of his face and he wore dark maroon robes which were similarly covered with black tribal markings. He leapt out with a scream and sent some sort of ice or air elemental hurtling at Lord Brandon.
“Flamoj frapu!” Tiberus said, gesturing and sending a blast of fire into the oncoming creature. Knocked off its flight path, it whirled about in the air and then shattered with a great crash against a tree trunk.
The sorcerer screamed again and hurtled a flurry of ice bolts towards Tiberius. In a mad fury, gesturing with both hands, he sent half a dozen deadly bolts of ice out. They each shattered against the prismatic shield. Just powerful enough to trigger the effect, they were each reflecting about half of their energy away and the rest wasn’t penetrating Ti’s shields. The last bolt reflected partially, more startling the sorcerer than doing any real harm. But Tiberius was not idle. He sent his own bolt of lightning back against the sorcerer. That sent him flying back. The sorcerer wasn’t done quite yet, though. He staggered up and started to gesture again, but then he was hit by about three arrows at once, one from Lord Brandon.
“Who in God’s name was that?” Lord Brandon asked.
“I rather doubt it was anyone sent in God’s name, M’lord,” Tiberius answered.
“Our friends have started early this year,” Brandon said with a scowl. He looked slightly puzzled for a moment. He’d just noticed his breath, which had been making thin wisps of smoke all morning, had suddenly stopped. That might not have been so odd if he hadn’t noticed his horse’s breath was still frosty, or at least it was when he shook his head to the right.
He looked oddly at Tiberius. “Is it slightly warmer next to you all of a sudden?”
“Yes, M’lord. Part of my defenses are environmental control,” Tiberius explained.
“Ah, right. I haven’t seen you in action that much; I hadn’t noticed before,” Lord Brandon said.
“It’s new, actually. Been working at it this winter,” Tiberius answered.
Lord Brandon turned his attention the large gouge in the tree which the creature had made. He had to repress a shudder.
“Good work. All right you lot, haul that body up and we'll see if someone recognizes him in the next town. Let's get moving.”
∴
Finishing the patrol, they returned to the castle a few days later. Lord Brandon asked for a word with Tiberius. He met with him back at his desk in the center of camp.
“I’m giving you a raise,” he said unexpectedly.
“Thank you, sir, but that isn’t necessary,” Tiberius answered.
“I think it is,” Lord Brandon answered. “I’ve mentioned your name in the dispatches too. Again. Don’t get me wrong, I value people who save my life highly, but it’s more than that. You’re an essential part of our success out here. I can’t actually promote you, as you aren’t strictly speaking in the chain of command. You’re a civilian scout. But the men all respect money. They keep voting you extra shares of the prize money. It’s the one way the men have of honoring fellow soldiers in a matter that counts. They take that very seriously, just as they take it seriously that you’re getting them extra prizes and saving the lives of men each day. I want you officially on par with our captains, and I’m making sure the men know it too.”
“Yes, sir,” was all Tiberius could think of to say. He was already a little embarrassed at getting so much in prize money.
Walking back to his room, Tiberius, considered his financial situation. A raise wasn’t something he had anticipated, but he hadn’t thought of money much these days. Captain’s salary was as much as he’d ever really aspired too. That would let him support a wife and a family in the style that he was accustomed to. With the prize money and now a captain’s steady salary, he was well off to say the least.
He had no family, though. He tried to help his brother and the Okubos when he could, but there were limits to what he could hand them, or at least to what they would accept. He was current on his taxes and ahead with his tithing. He was a little at a loss as to what to do with the money. His principal vices were books and sweets. Chocolates were a relatively cheap vice and he got a discount on books from his brother. He saw little point in spending on elaborate clothing. He had few, if any, calls for such attire. More traditional vices such as liqueur and women were out of the question for him, both by temperament and the dictates of his profession. At least it was a good problem to have. He’d opened a bank account and now earned even more money from a few investments, one of which had already paid off rather handsomely. If anything, this added to the problem.
He stopped by the chaplain's office to deposit his tithing.
Reverend McNair looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you, Tiberius. I can’t complain about funding lately. Not with the way you’ve been bringing in prize money for the troops.”
“Maybe we can start a fund to get a proper church built in town. I notice the main church is a bit small,” he said.
McNair shook his head. “That’s going to take more than money to solve. We need a building permit and we can’t get one because of some red tape with our treaty with the elves. I’ll get it worked out someday. I’ll have to write to the Archbishop, though. There is another more immediate project that you might be able to help with.”
“I’d be glad to contribute what I can to any worthy project you have in mind, Padre,” Tiberius said.
“What I wanted to know is whether you’ve considered hiring a servant?”
“A servant?” Tiberius blinked in surprise. “No, I’ve always been fairly independent.”
The padre gave a condescending smile. “Self-reliance is a good thing to a point, but a man in your position could be doing good by providing employment to others. You probably haven’t thought of it, but you could do a bit of good here by adding on to the castle staff. The funds from the government aren’t really adequate to the upkeep of a place like this. You aren’t required to have any servants, but a man in your position, well, it would seem quite appropriate.”
Tiberius paused to consider. Dealing with magic and miracles on a daily basis as he did, there wasn’t a lot that surprised him. Yet this wasn’t anything he had ever considered. “I don’t mind helping out,” he said at last, “but what would I do with a servant?”
“Dusting, laundry, housekeeping, that sort of thing. Keeping the bookshelves straight. How are you getting on now? You do have bookshelves, don’t you?” the padre asked.
Tiberius stopped to consider. He’d just been using the castle facilities for laundry and so on. He’d hardly paid a thought to such things; he’d been so busy with his work or riding on patrol with the Rangers. He knew some spells for purification which served to do laundry too at need, but the more he thought about it, the more he saw that the padre might have a point. The other officers all had servants after all and it would probably be expected of him. If he could spend some of his money giving a real life and job to others, that would be all to the good.
“Now that you mention it, I could use a little help with that sort of thing.”
“I think we’d all rather you spent time healing and working on your art than doing laundry,” McNair said. “There are always people who need a good situation, Tiberius. Fact is, I have someone in mind. Mrs. Sutherland is a widow, and frankly not placed very well at present. A perfectly respectable woman in her mid 50’s. She’s quite intelligent and reliable and can handle any special instructions for your room. Don’t touch that and so forth. If you could just handle a small expense of, say, 200 shillings a week, we can find her a small room in the castle and put her on staff.”
“Is that enough?” he asked. He really had no idea at all what to pay any sort of a servant. As a charity project though it seemed a small living wage. He could afford a bit more. “What about 250?”
“If you’re willing, naturally,
” the padre smiled. “I shouldn’t go higher than that just now. You can give her a raise later on as you like. I’ll send her around tomorrow if that’s all right with you.”
“Whatever you think best,” Tiberius said. The thought of having any sort of personal servant was a little unsettling. He’d never really thought of himself as upper class. Truth to tell, his father had always done pretty well with his printing business, but he’d never had expensive tastes. Tiberius always thought of himself as solid middle class. Still, at the rate he was getting money he’d have to consider himself upper middle class at the least. He put it out of his mind for the evening. After all he could afford it and it was doing a favor for the padre. He just hoped she wouldn’t be disruptive.
Mrs. Sutherland came round the next day. Tiberius gave a sigh of relief when he first saw her. As described, she seemed an intelligent, amicable, and respectable countrywoman. It took little time for Tiberius to show her the room and her duties.
“So I’ll just put the laundry in the bag over there. If I’m doing anything dangerous that I don’t wish disturbed I’ll leave you a note, but I don’t expect to do much of that here.”
“Very good, sir, but…”
“Yes?”
She glanced around the spartan room with disapproval. “Well it’s hardly my place to say, sir.”
“I’d really prefer it if you spoke freely, Mrs. Sutherland,” Tiberius said.
“You’re not taking proper care of yourself, sir. A proper gentleman ought to have better than an old cot and a couple of trunks. There’s folks what sell better soap than what you’re using, sir.”
Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) Page 28