by Gage Lee
I’d worry about that problem when I ran headfirst into it. Rachel was safe, at least for now, and she’d stay that way as long as Tycho thought I was on his side. That might be a little more challenging when he saw that I’d advanced, but as much as that might worry him, I knew it would also thrill him. To have someone as strong as I was under his control would make Sage Reyes the most powerful man mortalkind had ever seen.
It was my job to make sure he thought he had the upper hand.
Until I brought him down.
“One step at a time,” I said.
Attention swept over my core, weak and distant. Someone had felt my ascension to sage and gotten curious. The tentative probe was too brief and faint to provide me with any information. It could have come from Dusalia checking up on me.
Or it could have come from Reyes, curious about who’d just jumped up to the sage level. If I stuck around here much longer, I’d have some unwelcome company. It was time to finish the job and move along.
I’d come here to capture one of the Machina my mother had created. I still had no idea how to create Maps, but the artificial core would give me a solid head start. Some sorcery would let the Machina hold jinsei. Talismans scrivened with the Gate of the Design would allow Maps to travel to me in times of need. Modified farcaster talismans could broadcast her appearance to me, and if I put enough jinsei into storage, it might even let her manifest a physical form.
That was the start of a plan, at least. Most of it was beyond my capabilities. Maybe Ishigara and Krieger would help again.
First things first, though. I dug through the rubble to find the Machina case. It was still intact, and the artificial cores appeared undamaged. Whoever had created the shelfstrosity had secured the Machina quite well. But when I examined their handiwork, I realized something was very wrong.
A sickening lurch tore through my chest when I realized someone had altered the cores. The Machina should have each been half a core, ready to merge with a mortal host. But these were unlike anything I’d seen before.
Someone had bound pairs of artificial cores together with intricate jinsei stitches, then sealed their work with powerful sorceries so complex I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. Cutting the cores apart would be the simplest way to separate them. Closer examination showed me hair-fine sutures woven deeply into the Machina’s scrivenings though. Slicing them apart might do more damage than good.
There was no sense in worrying about that until I’d returned to the School of Swords and Serpents. Maybe Hahen would have some idea how I could fix them.
I closed the container that held the cores and removed the straps that had suspended it inside the vault guardian’s body. For a moment, I considered digging through the rubble to find more loot, then decided against it. The cores were the treasure I’d come for; Dusalia could use the rest for the good of the clan.
I began to unwind the spell that still bound me to the dragon line nexus. The power that flowed through it kept my core topped off, and would have been painful by now if I’d still been venerable. As a sage, though, I took what I needed from the flow of power and the rest poured harmlessly out of my aura.
When only the last thread of sorcery remained, I felt a familiar presence moving toward me through the dragon lines. The powerful surge of awareness pressed against my core, then withdrew.
I recognized it as the elemental I’d fought in Ishigara’s scriptorium. The creature lurked just beyond the dragon line nexus, eager to enter the world of mortals, but not at all excited about going for round two with me. Its voice rose through my mind a moment later, powerful, but subdued.
“You woke me from my slumber again, mortal,” it said. “Had you been awake when I arrived, I fear tradition would demand we cross swords.”
Well, that was interesting. I hadn’t meant to call the elemental, but I had pulled a lot of power through the dragon lines to keep myself alive. If that was all it took to get Nexignus’s attention, I needed to be more careful.
“I didn’t intend to disturb you,” I said. “Thank you for showing restraint, honored Spirit. I have no desire to battle you.”
I sensed a show of respect from the elemental, maybe its people’s version of a bow. We both knew it could have killed me while I slept. There must be some reason why it hadn’t.
“You are young and brash,” Nexignus said in my thoughts. “But there is some of us in you, now. Perhaps it will give you some wisdom to aid you in the coming days. Others seek you, and they are not kind.”
I felt the weight of the creature’s attention across my chest, and on my arms and legs where I’d fused elemental aspects to my body. It was strange to think I’d altered myself so dramatically. Was I even human now?
That was a philosophical question I didn’t have time to worry over. I’d come a long way on my quest, but there was more yet to do and never enough time to do everything. And the elemental had confirmed the worries brought up by the sweep I’d felt earlier. The bad guys were looking for me.
A thought occurred to me. Nexignus had mentioned something about the proper obeisance when we’d first met. Maybe there was a way to turn him into my ally.
“There is something I must ask, elder elemental,” I said. “I know you dwell in the dragon lines, and that your wisdom is both deep and widespread. I would ask a favor of you.”
“You are brazen, little mortal,” Nexignus responded, “but you did save me from an untimely end in your little classroom. I will hear your request.”
“I’m looking for a gap in the dragon lines,” I said, “a missing nexus. It would be near the place we first met.”
“And what do you offer for this information?” Nexignus asked. There was curiosity in its voice, but also a threat. If my offer was too low, it would likely snuff me out of existence. Or at least try, and I didn’t have time for a fight.
“The sacred island of the Five Dragons,” I said. “Help me find the missing nexus, and I will give you the island as your dominion.”
There was a moment of fearful silence before Nexignus responded. “Your offer intrigues me. I will find this place for you. When you are ready to travel there, call out for me.”
“Thank you, honored Elemental,” I said. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
“As do I,” the elemental’s thoughts weighed on mine, “but if you waste my time and do not deliver what is promised, you will regret our meeting.”
The elemental’s last words vibrated in my skull for long seconds after it had left the dragon line nexus. I imagined a vast and ancient creature swimming like a shark through the dragon lines that crisscrossed the world. I’d have to be more careful the next time I yanked jinsei and aspects out of the dragon lines. Having Nexignus show up to teach me a lesson in manners during my battle with the shelfstrosity would have been a disaster.
But, we’d parted on better terms and now I had someone who could help me find Ultima Thule. If anyone could track down the missing nexus, it was a creature who lived in the dragon lines.
I’d lost my return talisman during the battle, and it took me a few minutes to find it in the wreckage. I activated it with a thought, and my dormitory walls replaced the vault’s dark enclosure. Hahen wasn’t waiting for me, which was a relief. I was bouncing off the walls with energy from my new core, and my pulse sang. The changes I’d made to my body were profound, and I marveled at every unfamiliar sensation from the fire and stone threaded through it. I had a ton of work still to do and didn’t have time to answer a bunch of questions about how I’d changed.
My first task was to prepare more talismans. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my new core made this task far simpler than it had been in the past. The scribing tool made smooth arcs and lines on the silver talismans, and it was so much easier to understand the latitude and longitude coordinates with the expanded awareness that came along with my sage-level core. What had been a difficult puzzle before was now simple to unravel.
It was n
o wonder sages were so revered. We were extraordinarily powerful. I cycled more jinsei with every breath than I’d been able to handle in an hour as a venerable. My spiritual senses had expanded to the point that I could sense the slightest jinsei, and it seemed as if I were moving slightly faster than the world could keep up with.
I’d never imagined this much power before. It seemed like the absolute peak of human ability.
Except... according to the Empyrean Flame, this was not the pinnacle.
There was still one advancement ahead of me if I wanted to survive the last leg of this quest. And if the difference between sage and eternal was as great as the difference between venerable and sage, maybe I could pull this off.
But I wouldn’t be able to do it alone.
Tycho would do something horrible to Rachel if he caught wind of what I’d planned. He might send the other sages and their allies after Clem, Eric, and Abi, too. I couldn’t proceed until they were safe.
For that, I’d need Dusalia’s help.
I went to my clan elder’s scrivened page and jotted off a quick note asking for assistance.
And then I waited as the minutes ticked past.
Searchers swept their attention over me twice more while I waited. They were stronger this time, though too brief for me to tell who was behind them. I hoped my current location would lull whoever was searching for me into complacency. I was in my dorm room. How much trouble could I cause there?
The wait stretched on for what felt like an eternity.
That was unusual. Dusalia had always responded to my messages within a few minutes. As the kitchen clock’s big hand counted off time I’d never get back, the energy from my sage core made it hard to sit still.
I should be out there, doing something. Anything. I was on the verge of leaving my dorm room when the familiar scritch-scritch-scritch of a pencil moving over paper caught my attention.
It had taken Dusalia more than an hour to respond. That set my hackles on edge. The contents of her message only increased my concern.
“Direct response: All clan organization names invoked concur. Initial capitalization is secured. Impacted parties are aware of your plan and will respond as necessary. Proceed per our earlier discussion. Aggressive timetable is recommended.”
I read that message three times, and it made less sense with every repetition. Before I could read it again, the inky lines at the top of the page faded away.
“No!” I exclaimed and rushed to the desk with the page held in my hand. My memory was sharp, but I didn’t trust it to capture every word of Dusalia’s cryptic message. I plopped down in the chair, grabbed a pen and sheet of paper from the desk’s top drawer, and hastily transcribed the message.
Before I’d copied half of it, though, the ink faded to faint gray lines. Tiny flames radiated from the letters and consumed the scrivened page so quickly I hardly had time to register it was gone. The fire left nothing behind, not even the faintest curl of ash.
Why would Dusalia send a weird message that seemed to mean nothing and then destroy our only method of communication? Nothing made sense unless...
She was in trouble. If Tycho was the one holding her strings, he might have found out we were working together and pulled the plug. Dusalia was covering her tracks. Which meant the final message might have been a very important warning.
What had she tried to tell me?
I wrote the rest of the message as best I remembered it and pored over the nonsensical sentences.
The last sentence, “aggressive timetable is recommended,” told me I needed to move. But without knowing the source of the danger, I didn’t have enough information to act on.
With a curse, I shrugged out of my scorched and tattered robes. My serpents snatched clean robes I used to exercise in out of the closet and wrapped them around my body in the blink of an eye. I wondered if I had days left, or hours, or only minutes.
My first step was to get out of the dorm. I grabbed the School-supplied book bag out of my closet and shoved the core container into it. The Machina box was a tight fit, but it looked like a stack of books, so hopefully no one would ask questions. Of course, a sensitive sacred artist would have no trouble identifying the jinsei inherent in those cores.
The urge to flee the School of Swords and Serpents using a talisman was strong, but I didn’t want to tip my hand that way. My enemies didn’t know how easy it was for me to jump around. I wanted to keep that advantage for as long as possible.
Most of the items on my official Empyrean Flame Quest List required travel. But there was one thing I could investigate without leaving the School, and I had a good idea where to start that search. To do that, though, I’d have to lose my friendly neighborhood Guardians.
I pushed open the door and headed down the hall, waving at the armored figures posted outside my dorm as I passed them. “Just taking a little stroll. No need to follow me. Oh, you need the exercise, too? Those weapons and armor look awfully heavy. You might want to leave them behind. I’ll be going pretty fast today. It’s good cardio, you know?”
I took off as fast as I could run. While venerable, that had been very speedy. As a sage? I was surprised there was no sonic boom. The guards struggled to keep pace with me, and I heard one of them shout something as I rounded the corner and took off like a shot. I zigged around another corner, focused on my destination, and streaked through different parts of the School as it bent to my will. My advanced core forced the School to bend around me with no delay at all, and I quickly went from the main hall, to Tycho’s laboratory, to the old tower room where Hagar had tried to kill me, back to the courtyard, and, finally, to the one place I’d been hesitant to visit again.
Theodosia’s attack on my clan last year—no, two years ago—had nearly demolished the Stacks. I summoned a jinsei lantern to get a better look at my destination and saw that it was in no better shape now than it had been when I last saw it.
The door was shattered, its heavy iron bands warped by the terrible forces that had battered them aside. The interior was still a disaster, too. Tycho had been the headmaster last year. He could have had the place repaired, but hadn’t bothered. There was a message in this wreckage, though I wasn’t sure if it was for me or my clan. We’d used this place as our secret headquarters.
I’d returned here on a hunch and crossed my fingers that it would play out in my favor. I’d lost something years ago, and if there was ever a time I needed to find it, this was it.
My serpents helped me clear the rubble, shifting chunks of fallen stone and lengths of scorched wood. My strength was so great now, it took only minutes to shovel aside the wreckage to reveal the sealed door I needed. The keys to opening it were gone, destroyed in the battle, but that was all right.
The circular hatch, its jinsei seals shattered by the war that had torn through this place, was no match for my strength. I wrenched it free of the floor and laid it down beside the hole it had concealed. A thought sent my jinsei lantern drifting down into the dark silo of a room. I held my breath, hoping against hope that I’d find the missing piece of a years-long puzzle.
But the room was empty.
With a sigh, I hung my head. The Manual of the New Moon had gone missing after the assassination attempt during my second year. No amount of searching turned it up, but it had always haunted my memories. It could have held the information I’d need to create Maps.
“Looking for something?” a familiar voice asked.
I whirled around to see Maps standing atop a mount of rubble. She looked different than I remembered. Her hair hung almost to her waist, and her robes were loose and flowing layers as thin as gossamer. A silver hue tinged her skin, and when she moved, lines of scrivenings flickered beneath its surface. Had she always been like that?
“That’s it,” I said, my breath catching at the sight of the thin black volume she held in her left hand. “You found it.”
Maps laughed. “I didn’t find it,” she said, “I took it. You knew you’d n
eed it one day, so you asked me to hang onto it for you. This must be the moment you’ve been waiting for.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “How could I tell you any of this? I didn’t know I’d need it when it went missing. That was years ago.”
“You still don’t understand,” Maps said. “There is no past or future in the Grand Design. You drew your need upon its face, and that is the shape I have taken.”
The young woman drifted down from her rubble and pressed the book into my hands. It was cold and powerful, radiating an aura that took my breath away. When I’d first laid hands on this priceless artifact, I’d lacked the skill and sensitivity to detect its true strength. This wasn’t a simple manual. It was an artifact of knowledge, and the weight of its secrets pressed against my aura like the weight of a mountain.
“There’s something about this time and place,” Maps said, a sad smile twisting her lips. “It’s near the end. Or the beginning. Is that why you came?”
I nodded and looked back toward the silo. I’d learned a lot about destiny and fate, about what made a mortal, and what it meant to truly change since I’d first found my way into its depths.
“The Flame told me to come back to where it started. That I’d find the answers I needed at the beginning,” I said. “But over these past few months, I realized that my life began and ended more than once. When I won the Five Dragons Challenge, the old Jace died and a new one took his place. When I embraced the path of the Eclipse Warrior, down in that hole, a weak hollow core died and a new Jace emerged. That gave me hope I’d find an answer here.”
Maps nodded and took my hand between hers. Slender fingers traced the scars on my fists, the veins that branched across the backs of my hands. They climbed further, to touch one of the elemental enhancements that had repaired my arm. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” I said. “It feels like a callus. It’s not as sensitive as the rest of my skin, but it’s a lot stronger.”
Maps pulled me toward a tumbledown pile of bookcases. She frowned at the jagged mound and ran her hand through the air above it. When she completed her pass, a pair of comfortable chairs stood where the rubble had been. “That’s better. Have a seat. There’s something I need to tell you.”