by Rick Field
“I am merely concerned as to why the book notes that a construct based on blood failed catastrophically on summoning, while the theory shows that the experiment should succeed, Proctor,” Amy replied, voicing her concern yet again.
The older girl nodded. “It worries me, too, Assistant. Either the experiment of the unnamed author really did fail, maybe the man made a mistake somewhere, or maybe the experiment succeeded better than he, or we, could have ever hoped for.”
Amy nodded, having heard all of that before. She stared at the papers in Liane's hand. “The theory is sound, yet the unnamed author reported catastrophic failure without further explanation, or without report of further tries.” She licked her lips. “That would give credence to the cover-up theory. The experiment didn't fail, it succeeded, and the results were struck from the record.”
Liane nodded. “Exactly,” she said, and touched Ouroboros, the Construct uncoiling itself from around Liane's neck. “Ouro, be on guard,” she told it, and the glass snake slithered down Liane's body, and loosely coiled on the ground, a thin glass tube that she could easily step over should it be necessary.
Drawing a breath, she handed the papers back to Amy, who filed them expertly in the back pack she wore. “Let's begin, Assistant.”
The creation of a full Construct took hours to complete, hours that were spent crafting, conjuring, invoking and spelling magic into various shapes and sizes in order to build a fully functional body, allowing the body freedom of movement as well as making sure the body could absorb energy given to it.
Finally, exhausted mentally and magically from the exertion, Liane stepped back and struggled to catch the breath in her lungs. Her entire body felt weak with fatigue over the exertions she had completed, but she smiled upon the lifeless body that stood in the middle of the protective containment circle, waiting for further action.
The body itself was a masterpiece of magical engineering, even if Liane said so herself. The size of a good mid-sized hound, the body stood erect upon its four legs, each paw lovingly crafted with individual nails sharpened into claws. Its head most closely resembled the hound it had been inspired upon, its eyes glowing the red of pure ruby, sticking out against the deep light-absorbing black that Liane had chosen to be the color of the rest of the body.
The mouth of the body was open, showing pure ivory white teeth, each crafted with painstaking attention to detail, and whittled to sharp points.
Yet, what most pleased her was the fact that the entire body, every jewel-encrusted eye, every sharpened tooth, every curved claw, every leg and spine and part of the body had been created out of her own blood. It had only taken a small cup of blood, magically multiplied and multiplied again, before enough of the substance was available for the transmutation process to change it into the raw materials required for the actual construction, and it was the transmutation that Liane was proud of.
Transmutation, as well as Alchemy, had always been her bad point, those that she struggled most with, and it was with great pride and pleasure that she now beheld her creation before her.
After admiring her handiwork, Liane drew a deep breath. “Time to give it the breath of life,” she said, half to herself and half to her Assistant. Closing her eyes, she whispered the incantation. Magic, as little as she had left, filled her lungs.
She leaned over the protective runic circle to prevent from breaking it, and breathed out the magic that had filled her lungs. Glowing blue and gray, the breath of life left her mouth and entered the creature's.
Hurriedly, she leaned back, eagerly awaiting the results.
The body shivered, rippled, life flowing into lifeless limbs. The nail-claws ticked against the obsidian-colored floor as they raised and lowered in rhythmic fashion, and shoulders raised and hunched as animation gripped them. The mouth opened and closed, the sharp teeth clacking against each other. Slowly, the massive head swung from left to right, and ruby-red eyes blinked slowly as they beheld the world for the first time.
The Construct took a step forward, its nose touching the boundaries of the containment circle. It blinked at Liane.
“Sit,” Liane told it.
The animated Construct tilted its head, as if looking at her inquisitively. Then it blinked in confusion, as if wondering why it should do as she asked.
Realizing that something was amiss, Liane raised her voice. “SIT!” she barked, hoping to overcome the confusion of her creation. The Blood Construct narrowed its eyes, raised its shoulders and lowered its head, bearing its teeth in a threatening fashion.
Something was very, very wrong. A Construct should obey its creator. A Construct should have no will of its own.
A ball of fire materialized from the creature's open mouth, washing over the inside of the level four containment circle. Liane, startled, took a step back.
Constructs shouldn't be able to do magic, either. In fact, without a power token to fuel them, they should be incredibly weak and barely able to move.
The Blood Construct growled, and blasted the circle with fire again.
Liane locked eyes with Amy. The young Assistant looked just about as shocked as Liane felt. “This is impossible,” Amy said over the din made by a ball of lightning that flashed from the creature's mouth, thundering against the containment barrier.
“And yet, it is happening,” Liane said. “It doesn't appear to be powering down, either. “
The lightning was replaced by a bolt of some form of ethereal energy that roared against the containment. “It's powering up,” Amy whispered, shocked. “By the gods above, it's actually still powering up!”
“We need to bring it down. Now,” Liane snapped, bringing up her hands and casting her own bolt of fire at the creature. The Blood Construct gobbled up the ball of flame, and grinned at her.
It actually had the audacity to grin at her.
Her face twisted, Liane responded with lightning, moving away from direct-damage to circumstantial spells. Crushing gravity and full vacuum threatened to bring down the containment circle in their own rights, but had very little effect on the creature. When it responded, the lights in the room started dimming noticeably.
“It's overloading the containment circle's power supply!” Amy screamed, pacing in panic. Seeing what little results her Proctor's spells had, the young Assistant had no idea what she would have to offer to assist. “That shield is going to fail, Proctor!”
Liane's face twitched again. Her magic was low, thanks to hours of conjuration and crafting that had gone into the actual creation of the Blood Construct. Truth be told, she didn't really know where to go from here, either, yet couldn't admit that fact to her Assistant. Admitting she was out of options as well would have caused the girl to panic even worse, and panic was not something they could use right now.
Casting blades made from high-powered winds barely drew some chips of black bloodstone from the Construct's body. It crouched, and visible energy waved its way up the creature's paws, over its back, towards its head. The bolt of force that resulted from its mouth overloaded the shield, and caused Liane to duck away. The energy drew a large chunk of stone from the obsidian wall behind Liane.
She had no time to stare in consternation at the supposedly unbreakable stone. To her relief, the creature seemed to waver, standing unsteadily on its feet. “Ouroboros!” Liane shouted.
The coiled Construct-serpent threw itself up at its mistress' attacker, and threaded itself around the creature's body, trussing it up the way cattle ranchers trussed stubborn cattle. The creature howled through a mouth kept closed by the other Construct's coils, and trashed on its back with its four paws locked together in the air.
Already, Liane could see Ouroboros' body start to fail. “Throw Ouro the anchor!” Liane shouted to Amy, who, thankfully, reacted without hesitation to Liane's command. Fishing the small anchor from her pocket, the younger girl threw it towards Ouroboros, who snatched it out of thin air.
The Construct's glow returned briefly, before the larger, a
nd more insane, Blood Construct growled and started thrashing more wildly.
Closing her eyes, Liane cupped her hands, and started casting one of the more destructive spells she had learned from Air as a Weapon of War, hoping that Ouroboros would hold out long enough for her to finish the incantation.
The explosion as Ouroboros' body was ripped to shreds startled Liane out of her concentration and the spell failed in her hands, sending her sprawling as the backlash waved over her, a scream of pain drawn from her throat as her magic desperately tried to divert the damage.
The world dimmed to her eyes. With an almost inhuman will, she pushed herself to her legs, ignoring the trembling of her limbs and the emptiness of her magic. Her left arm felt numb, her right arm tingled. Her legs were shaking with fatigue, and Liane felt true panic grip her heart. For the first time since long ago, she was truly, completely, out of options, and she had no idea what to do next.
What could she do? Her own creation was going to kill her. There was nothing she could do. It had broken through a class four containment circle. It had destroyed a Construct that had virtually limitless energy available to it.
The creature's head had swung towards Amy when the young girl started casting ice and water-based attack spells at it, trying to draw its attention away from a shaking Liane.
It was working, too. Unfortunately, Liane was still shaking, both in injury and panic, and she stared with open mouth and empty mind as her young Assistant attempted to battle a monster that refused to be put down. The bolt of energy that formed was going to crush the girl. Amy knew it. Liane knew it. The Blood Construct knew it, too.
Liane blinked as it formed. Amy just stared at it, fear finally overriding her mind as she stared at her destruction forming. Time slowed down as destruction formed.
Her Assistant was going to die. She was going to die herself. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was a failure as a Proctor, as a Mage, as a Noble. She'd gotten her Assistant killed. She was a horrible person.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. She didn't want to die. But she was going to. She didn't want her Assistant to die. But she was going to, as well.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Amy stared at the energy ball that was still forming, and Liane felt something snap deep inside of her. If she was going to die, she might as well die doing something to correct the mistakes she had made.
As the creature shot the ball of energy it had spent the last two seconds forming, Amy literally stared down the barrel of her own destruction. Before her startled eyes, Liane appeared, so fast that it was almost teleportation, both her arms crossed over her chest, fists against her shoulders.
A perfectly cast bunker shield popped up, diverting the brunt of the attack away from the girl behind her back. Feeling the shield starting to break, Liane's lips formed follow-up words, drawing on the strength of the earth, the resistance of metal and the endless power of the air.
The blast passed, yet Liane's robes were smoking and the Proctor stumbled. The creature wavered as well, once more expended, trying to recharge.
Suddenly, Liane felt energy cascade through her system, and her arms lifted of their own accord. The Blood Construct locked its ruby-red eyes with her as they stared each other down. It desperately trying to raise new energy, she desperately scrambling for the strongest destruction spell she could cast in short order.
It was a race against time.
In the end, Liane reflected, she should have known her Assistant would have done something foolish. It wasn't until she was halfway through the casting of the final Air weapon spell that she realized that her magic was behaving extremely out of character.
And that there was a tiny hand in the middle of her back where that energy seemed to be coming from.
She threw the half-finished spell at the creature, and watched with satisfaction as the detonation tore the Blood Construct to pieces.
She was too tired, physically and mentally, to move out of the way. The torrent of magic had been closed off to her, and the world started to dim. Right before she blacked out, she noticed a tiny Assistant interspacing herself between herself and the blast, casting a perfect bunker shield in a mirror of her own actions.
A smile appeared on her face. Her Assistant really had done well. She'd trained the girl well. She could stop now. The Construct was dead.
The world went black.
*****
She awoke to painfully stinging eyes, a numb body, and the strange scent of the infirmary in her nose. There was no pain, but every act of breathing was a chore that required conscious effort and deliberation. She managed to look to one side, her features relaxing when she saw Amy, her faithful young Assistant, asleep in the chair next to her bed.
Even in the less than dignified slumped-over position, Amy looked ill. Her skin was sallow, and her clothes hung off her, almost as if the girl had lost considerable weight in a short amount of time.
Hazy memories snapped back into crystal clarity, and Liane cursed herself. Her mistakes had almost caused the death of herself and her Assistant, and it was only because Amy had placed her hand on the small of Liane's back and forcefully shoved magic through the Proctor-Assistant bond that they had both survived.
Liane had always vowed never to take power from her Assistant, a promise she had now broken. She licked dry lips. Amy had paid the price for her stupidity, and Liane swore she would make it up to the girl. Somehow.
Footsteps rounded the bed from the other side, and Liane looked up, away from the slumped-over form of her ill-looking Assistant.
Milor looked like he always did: composed, measured, sure of himself. Yet, at the same time, Liane noticed the little details, the robes that were slightly crooked, the bags under his eyes. Her friend was exhausted as well, and it was starting to show.
“My Lady,” he said, bowing deeply. “I humbly apologize for my absence. It is only because I was not there that you got hurt.”
It took her five long seconds before her sluggish brain realized the importance of him bowing. A Noble never bowed.
“Please get up, My Lord,” she whispered, her voice dry and her throat raspy. “It was an experiment for my masterpiece that went wrong. It was my fault entirely. I failed to anticipate the problem, and it nearly got myself and my Assistant killed.”
“I can't help but think,” Milor said, “that if I had been there, you would have either been engaged in a mock duel with me, or I would have been there to cover for you as I have done in times past.” He walked back to the other side of the bed, Liane tracking him as he walked in as agitated a manner as she had ever seen him walk.
He sat down heavily in the chair on the other side of her bed. “Due to acts in my private life, I cannot even give you an adequate explanation of what I was doing,” he muttered angrily. “I can do nothing but beg your forgiveness and understanding, as well as promise you that, the day we graduate, I will be explaining everything to you and answer any questions that you may have.”
Liane was too tired to feel angry. “I understand, My Lord. I will be looking forward to that day.”
“Please let me know if there is something I can do, My Lady.”
Liane glanced at Amy. “Could you draw some of the covers from the nearest bed, My Lord? My Assistant is not only asleep in an undignified manner, but has neglected sufficient covers as well.” She sighed. “I nearly got her killed,” she whispered. “It was my stupidity that did this to her.”
Her eyes stung, and she averted her head to prevent Milor from seeing it as he covered Amy. “I nearly got both of us killed.” Liane swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I protected her the best I could. It wasn't enough.”
“She pushed power at you through the bond,” Milor spoke, just as softly. Liane looked at him, shocked at his knowledge. He averted his eyes at her state, pretending that he didn't see her cry. “She was awake earlier, and explained everything to me, My Lady. She explained how you jumped in front of
her, and saved her life by casting a bunker shield.”
He looked back at her, ignoring the look of shock on her face. “Your Assistant greatly admires you, My Lady. She told me how you saved her life today, and probably would have continued to do so until you ran out of magic to do it with.” He sat down again, and resumed, “Your assistant told me what she did, pushing magic at you through the bond. It's why she is extremely tired right now, yet she has refused to leave your side. She only fell asleep after I arrived here, and she told me what happened.”
“It was horrible,” Liane whispered, staring at her hands. “I never imagined fear like that. It was the first time I ever stared death so closely in the face. And it was my fault that both of us were in that position.” She looked back at Milor. “I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself for it.”
“We both did the research,” Amy said from where she had been asleep. “I never complained about doing the research, nor doing the actual experiment. I do believe I would have been upset had you tried to keep me out, as well. In the end, it was both of us who made the mistake, and it was both of us that got us out of it, as well, Proctor.”
“I no longer deserve that title,” Liane whispered. “I hurt you.”
“I hurt myself,” Amy said. “I pushed magic at you.” She cocked her head. “It wasn't painful at all. You are incredibly powerful, My Lady. I could feel how much you drew from me, for even a half-cast spell... I couldn't imagine how much power you have if you were able to complete the spell by yourself. Thankfully, you didn't draw me dry so I had enough to shield you when you collapsed.”
Liane opened her mouth to retort, when Amy interrupted her. “I would rather have died in the pursuit of knowledge than to remain safely locked in a gilded cage.” She lifted her head and stuck her nose in the air. “I am proud to be your Assistant. Even now, you care more for the fact that you hurt me, and nearly got me killed, than you do to your own injuries and the fact that you nearly died as well.”
Both Proctor and Assistant fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. “Perhaps,” Milor said after a few minutes of silence, “some Warlock knowledge would help. Warlocks receive extensive training to deal with these situations, and perhaps some of that training could finally be of use.”