by Rick Field
Being a Pillar of Kiria rarely involved violence, the authority and reputation of the service was usually enough to force compliance from those she investigated. She'd always detested killing, had always reacted violently when she was forced to take life.
The contents of her stomach were threatening to come up; she glanced fearfully in Steve's direction, not wanting to lose face before a foreign visitor. She swallowed to keep the vile contents in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she swayed gently back and forth, trying to calm herself, desperately trying to force down the anxiety of her weakened body.
Steve had noticed her growing sicker. He'd been around enough parties, both while in school and while in the service, to recognize the signs of someone trying not to vomit. He was in the military, and was more or less prepared for combat, but he also had to admit that it had been Liane who had done most of the fighting, and against her own people at that.
The man sat down quietly, and thought over his options. Perhaps distracting her would help, she seemed to enjoy explaining magic, so perhaps it would take her mind off of the events. They seemed pretty safe here, so it might be their last chance to talk. He frowned then, distracting her was all and good, but what would he ask about?
“You gave me a truth potion once,” he finally said. “I've been thinking about that. Does it really have no antidote? It would seem to me that something with no antidote would be something that people investigate just to see if they can crack the code, so to speak?”
Liane opened one eye and stared at him, as if recognizing what he was doing. Her face remained unreadable, so he didn't know whether or not she appreciated his efforts, but when she answered, there was a definite tone of relief to her voice. “Magic is very good at dealing with absolutes and with intent,” the Pillar explained. “Yes, Truth Serum has a counter serum. There are counter serums that protect against all truth-telling potions.” She swallowed, and thought for a moment, as if composing the rest of the reply. “When Truth Serum is brewed, it cannot be broken by anything in existence at that time. Should one brew a counter potion later, that counter potion will work against Truth Serum – until a new batch of Truth Serum is brewed, which will then, again, be unresponsive to the counter potion brewed before it.”
Steve frowned, that sounded very odd and convoluted to him. Liane went on, “that is why new Truth Serum is brewed for the Adjudicators every morning. Brewing counter potion takes a good three hours, so freshly brewed Truth Serum is held to be unbreakable. It is also the reason why old, unused, Truth Serum, is given to the Pillar Service for use. We are not Adjudicators; we merely investigate things that concern the country as a hole. Using Truth Serum that is a few days old, and could conceivably be countered by counter potion brewed after the Truth Serum has been, does not matter as much to us. All questioning under Truth Serum begins with a control question – if the subject does not answer, then we know the potion has been countered. Usually, fresh Serum is then brought in.”
Steve nodded, the explanation starting to make sense. “So, magic ensures that Truth Serum is unbreakable at the time of brewing. The same is with the counter potion, it'll break any truth potion at the time of its brewing. So in the end, the potion that was brewed last, wins?”
The Pillar gave that faint half-smile he had come to expect whenever he got something. “Exactly,” she said, closing her eyes again and sinking into silence.
The quiet of the nighttime forest wasn't as quiet as Steve wanted, the sounds of the wildlife around them getting a rise out of his rattled nerves. Every twitch or tweet causing him to jump and stare.
It took some time before Monolith returned. When the Druid finally reappeared, Liane tried to push to her legs, but gave up the effort when the other woman made a motion and sat herself down in front of the battered Mage. “I was informed by the Druid Elders that Druids as a whole do not engage in the battles of humans,” Monolith began, causing Steve to tighten in anger and Liane's shoulders to droop. “However,” the other woman continued, “I was also informed that there are no provisions against a singular member of the Druids to assist a former classmate in her own personal struggles.”
Steve's anger turned to confusion. “What does that mean, exactly?” he asked, his tone halfway between angry and confused.
“It means that we do not get assistance from the Druids themselves, but that the Lady Monolith, should she chose to do so, has been allowed to assist us,” Liane said, before Monolith could say anything that would get a further rise out of the irate and stressed out foreigner. The Pillar turned to the Druid. “What has been your decision, My Lady?”
Monolith's impassive gaze remained on Steve for a few moments longer, before shifting to Liane. She edged closer, and reached for the most obvious wound, the one on the Pillar's arm. “Even though we only shared class for a few months during our initiation, I would not feel comfortable abandoning you to injury and persecution, My Lady,” the Druid answered, the weird nature-based energy already flowing out of her hand and into the wound.
Liane sagged. “I forgot how good that feels,” she whispered, surrendering herself completely to the other woman's healing touch. “You must forgive me,” Monolith said, “I am unskilled in the healing arts, and must therefore resort to simply feeding you excess energy and trust your body to do what it does best.”
The Pillar just nodded. “Master Xard did something similar when he found me,” she confided. “I was near death, he fed me energy for days.”
“Master Xard must have found you exceedingly worthy to devote so much time to you,” Monolith remarked. “Did he comment on his actions?”
Liane's mind was fogged by the energy being fed into her by the other woman. It was nowhere near as powerful or all-encompassing as it had been when Master Xard had tied her into nature directly, but it felt similar, if on a smaller scale. She tried to think back over her limited conversations with the Master Druid. “I do not recall,” she finally admitted. “I do believe he once commented he chose well when to save me.”
Monolith seemed startled, and gazed at Liane with attentive eyes. “May I ask what preceded such a comment?”
“I was gravely, mortally, wounded. It seemed regular healing spells and condensed energy brought up by the trees of Master Xard's hideout were insufficient to heal me. As he explained it to me after I asked him repeatedly, he was forced to tie me directly into the circle of energy provided by nature.” The pillar looked away, breaking eye-contact with the healing Druid, and looked down at where the woman's hand was in contact with her injured arm. “I asked whether his actions resulted in damage done to nature. It was then that he remarked that he chose well when he chose to heal me, and reassured me that the scale was too small to tell.”
“Master Xard must have seen something,” Monolith said, half to herself. “He does not simply chose on a whim. He must have seen something, understood something, and only reaffirmed his choice after you proved him correct.”
“Perhaps,” the Pillar muttered.
“Rest now,” Monolith said. “I will feed you energy until your body can recuperate on its own.” She glanced at Steve. “Then I will make the sacrifice of healing your companion as well.”
The foreigner startled, and Liane bit off a wry chuckle. “He is uninjured, he always looks that pale. He is from beyond the Great Barrier, one must make excuses for foreigners.”
“Honestly?” the Druid asked. “He is always pale?”
Steve didn't know whether to be insulted or not, and decided to just let the Druid gaze at him with surprise. He thought about the situation and decided that this is what happened when one entered a completely closed-off country with a different skin color. He just stood and watched as the Druid simply held on to Liane's arm, the soft glow marking the energy being passed from one to the other.
Finally, he sat down. Now that they seemed to be safe, and the stress was leaving him, he was feeling both tired and curious. Finally, he broke the silence. “Don't you need to use a spell f
or that?” he asked.
Liane's closed eyes opened and focused on him, while Monolith looked confused. “I am not sure I understand your question,” she finally answered. “I am using a spell.”
Now it was Steve's turn to frown. “But I didn't hear you say anything. Liane usually speaks when she uses a spell.”
The Pillar could see Monolith wasn't about to give Steve an answer, and with the energy being fed into her, she was feeling very relaxed and mellow. “You are forgetting about intent and determination,” Liane said. “Magic is within every Noble, and it will react to intent. Words shape our intent and focus our thoughts. When you do something for the first time, you need to determine what you want to do, and how you want to do it – words are a part of this process. Once you're used to doing a spell, you can do it silently, although you will lose effectiveness and power if you do.”
The Mage shifted slightly. “Words also convey meaning. Take a simple fire spell, for example. If you wish to ignite tinder for a campfire, spark may be sufficient, saving your energy for other ventures while creating only a spark that will ignite your tinder. Fire or burn are the usual words when used in fire spells, while a sufficiently enraged Mage may use immolate if a particularly stubborn or annoying opponent is presented to them.” A small smile tugged on her lips when she focused her gaze on Steve, causing the man to suddenly feel as if he were about to become the target of immolate.
She relaxed, and closed her eyes once more. “Most Nobles don't bother with words, and are happy to cast silently,” she said, allowing silence to descend over their temporary campsite once again. Steve didn't bother with any further questions, it was obvious that both Liane and Monolith had other things on their minds.
The pilot startled awake at the sound of a warning cry. Almost immediately, he was on his feet, his hand gripping the magical hand-cannon Liane had built for him. At once, he realized the cause of the scream, as from the thickened shadows of the nighttime forest, grotesque shapes were taking form.
“What the...?” he screamed at the sight of the demonic incarnations. The first one had reached them, and Liane struck out with her staff, its tip reaching far above her head to strike at the incarnation's chest. It fell apart as its spell matrix destabilized, returning to dust and dirt and stone. Steve had seen many things since he had been here, been attacked by many different things, but seeing a behemoth return to mere earth and stone was something new.
“I have warned you that a Mage is an army upon herself,” Liane snapped, looking around at where more ghastly figures were lumbering at them. For a moment, she was glad that the Mage wasn't skilled in the arts of warfare and had decided to limit herself to incredibly powerful but incredibly slow creatures. They had time.
She brought her weapon up, before slamming the tip down on the ground, a harsh cry leaving her lips. The closest forms fell apart in stone and dirt, returning to the elements from which they were built. It took energy and focus to destabilize a spell matrix, more so when doing it remotely. Focus she had in spades, unfortunately, energy she didn't. She would need to find a new tactic, this one would leave her dry in minutes. “They're just animations, not constructs,” the Mage snapped, looking at Monolith. “Can you find her, My Lady?”
Monolith, one hand on the nearest tree, turned her face toward Liane although it was clear that she wasn't looking at the Mage at all. “Within this forest, none shall escape a Druid's sight,” she stated. “She has barricaded herself behind two circles of runes.”
More nightmarish figures were strolling toward them, each easily thrice as tall as the tallest man, each with four arms as thick as tree trunks holding hands tipped with claws. Horned heads held glowing amber eyes, and huge mouths were beset with sharpened teeth. Liane slammed her staff down once more, reaching down into herself for more of the energy that Monolith had given her. Skipping levels one and two, the Runescape shifted straight into level three, offensive. The backlash of the increased runic circle nearly drove her to her knees, and Liane gritted her teeth against the pain.
Steve had seen her set runes with a word and a gesture before, back when she had disintegrated the remains of his plane. The Druid had not, and for more than a moment Monolith was looking at Liane rather than at the sight of the enemy Mage, staring at the Pillar with open mouth as the runic circles formed, and the animations caught within them disintegrated as their magic drained away.
Almost immediately, Liane released the Runescape, panting deeply with the stress of the forced execution. Monolith had given her a boost and some meager reserves, but they were barely enough to heal her. There was no way she would be able to conduct an expanded siege.
“She is behind some formidable defenses,” Monolith reported. “I am unable to attack her directly. My skills are neutralized whenever I make the attempt.”
“Please let me see,” the Pillar asked. For the moment, they had some time. The nearest creatures had been destroyed by the Runescape, and it would take some time for more hulks to lumber into attack range. Monolith nodded, and the Mage placed one hand against the Druid's back. She hated the mind-reading spells, both their intent and their use, and so did her best to limit her stay in Monolith's mind. Part of her was grateful the Druid was unprotected.
“Bunker runes,” Liane muttered. “She is behind bunker runes. She probably spent the last few hours setting them and charging them, likely using power raising chants. No Mage has the reserve to charge them herself.”
One of the hulks charged at them from the side, and Steve dropped by instinct, managing to get six shots into the stone shape before Liane struck at its chest to neutralize its magic. Dejectedly, he realized his shots had barely struck some dust from the figure.
“The Commoner's weapon is useless,” Monolith said, just as a new figure reached out to grab her and crush her. The ground trembled as the very earth beneath its feet opened up, swallowing the animated creature whole, before closing up.
The Mage frowned at the sight of Steve's weapon harmlessly striking at the creature's chest, but the enemy had given her an idea. If their opponent could use power raising chants to bunker herself, then she would do the same thing to strike back. “Keep them off me for a few moments,” Liane said, standing up straight, both hands on Lucifer. Steve didn't know whether she was talking to him or to Monolith, but he forced himself to his legs regardless. His shots would be useless, but he would do his best to protect her.
Her eyes closed, Liane gripped deep within herself, then threw out her metaphysical hands. “I summon magic, the eternal force that makes the world turn and the sun rise and set. I summon magic, the eternal force that governs stars and moons, the power that shapes reality,” she muttered in the ancient words. The forest turned quiet as death, the crickets no longer chirped, no owl hooted, no wind rustled leaf or branch.
The power raising chant had been one of her favorites when she was young, a cadence that had eased her nerves on many an occasion. It had also been something that had drawn the attention of Cassandra Airmistress, the girl who would become her proctor. As she said the words, with magic and conviction and intent, magic flowed back. Her core screamed, the foreign energy draining into it like water through a siphon, and Liane felt her shoulders square.
Dimly, she was aware of a grotesque animated entity approaching her. She could feel Monolith's intervention snare it with freshly grown vines and shrubs.
The words restarted automatically at the end of her chant. She needed more power. The entity's magic dispelled when the chant yanked it out of it. More creatures approached, more than the chant could drain. One hand left Lucifer. The creatures were of the earth and stone, fire and lightning would be of decreased potency. Wind would be useless against their size. Their very size and makeup negated a lot of the more offensive spells usually employed in battle, and Liane had to admit that the enemy Mage had not done too badly.
The power of the chant filled her core, pain erupted from her chest, and the edge of Liane's vision tinted red. T
he pain turned to pleasure, and the Mage's hand motioned. Transmutation was invoked, bypassed the creatures' protections, and turned dirt to water. The animation broke as their physical forms fell apart.
At the edge of her awareness, she could feel more creatures stride up. The Mage had been raising power for hours, and animations didn't require a huge amount of power. Even with her own power raising chant, she would eventually succumb. She needed to get to their enemy, destroy her so her animation spells would break.
More power. She needed more. Like a different chant had once done at the Academy, the primary chant anchored itself deep into her core, and she answered herself by falling into canon. The chant continued, out loud, while her lips formed a canon cadence.
The amount of magic draining into her core doubled, two chants carried by a single Mage providing twice the magic as a single chant could. Liane’s eyes opened, the two chants continuing, despite her lips no longer moving. Her second hand released Lucifer, which balanced purposefully on its tip in front of her. Different words spilled from her mouth, words of power and intent.