CHAPTER FORTY
From the Clouds
Being woken by lightning striking close by was not Talia's favorite way to get roused to consciousness.
Dozens of lightning bolts slammed into the tree right above her, so close that Talia could actually feel her short hair stand up straight. The afterimages of the lightning burnt themselves into her eyes even while closed, and they were still there as she opened them, and saw the falling, flaming branches in between the cage the afterimages cast across her vision.
Thankfully, she was well out on a branch that wasn't struck by lightning or falling branches, but she could see the long burnt channels trailing down the trunk, tracing out the paths the lightning had followed down the sides of the tree.
Talia tried to sit up, but her head started pounding. She promptly rolled over on her side and vomited.
She realized she had another concussion, though thankfully not as bad as the one when her hair exploded. Inanely, some part of her mind wished that she wouldn't have to get her hair cut off this time too— it was still far too short to need to brush, but it was just now getting long enough that it didn't just feel like fuzz on her head when she ran her fingers through it.
She knew logically that she wouldn't need to cut her hair again, but she was having trouble focusing.
She managed to shut down that idiot part of her mind before it could start imagining Hugh running his fingers through her hair. Now was not the time.
The back of her head was especially painful, and she gingerly reached back and felt it with her fingers. They came away sticky with blood.
The last thing she remembered clearly was Grovebringer erupting into a massive tree trunk after she'd damaged it, its arrows being eaten and absorbed and sprouting into trees out of what had been Grovebringer's trunk.
Then there were a few flashes of her running across the roof as the freakishly growing tree tore it apart behind her, a flash of pain, and a flash of her legs dangling as she clung to a rising branch, and that was it.
Her stomach lurched, and she tried to vomit again, but nothing came out this time. Then it lurched again, and she realized it wasn't her stomach, but the branch itself.
Then Talia was tumbling through the air. Somehow, she forced mana into her kinetic anchor dagger. Her belt dug hard into her side as it stopped her fall, and the catch holding the dagger in her belt didn't break.
For a long while, she just hung in midair in the rain, dry heaving and watching the tree collapse in on itself, as though it had never truly been bound together. It just… crumbled into a vast, broken pile, as though the tree had been more dry rot inside than actual wood.
She wasn't sure how long she hung there, just looking.
She couldn't see where Hugh and Godrick had been. That whole section of the city was just gone, vanished beneath the great pile of sawdust and splinters.
She kept looking, kept searching for them. Trying to spot Godrick's armor, or Hugh's annoying green spellbook. But the city below her seemed to be flickering in and out of reality at random, and she turned her eyes away from it, nauseated.
When her stomach was settled a bit, Talia clenched her legs, took a deep breath, and stopped channeling mana into her dagger. Just for a moment, but it was enough time for her to spin about to face the center of the city. She didn't fall nearly so far this time, and her belt didn't dig in nearly as hard.
It still took her a while to regain control of her stomach, and for her vision to stop swimming.
When she finally forced her eyes open again, she wished she hadn't.
Artur's armor was burning rubble in one of the larger canals, two of the remaining dragons and countless Havathi mages were moving in on the Exile Splinter, and another of the dragons was doing a sweeping patrol of the outskirts of the city.
The fourth dragon was flying straight in her direction, accompanied by dozens of mages. More likely, they were coming to examine the collapsed tree, but it seemed almost certain they'd spot her hanging in midair.
Talia choked back a sob. She doubted Artur could have survived the destruction of his armor. If she had to guess, Alustin had probably gone down fighting to protect the Exile Splinter. And Hugh and Godrick…
They had almost certainly been crushed by the aftermath of Grovebringer's destruction, and it was all her fault.
Sabae, at least, might still be alive. Talia hadn't seen or heard anything of her the whole battle, but she was by far the fastest of them, and the best equipped to escape.
She briefly considered trying to fight, or maybe trying to lower herself down in jerks and stops to the ground, but she knew she wasn't up to either. If she tried to lower herself with a levitation cantrip, she'd just set herself on fire.
She briefly considered just letting herself drop entirely, but couldn't make herself do it.
Talia resigned herself to just hanging there.
When the clouds above her started glowing again, she started to laugh.
Maybe she should make a bet on whether the lightning or the Havathi would get her first.
Sabae hauled herself out of the canal and collapsed onto an Ithonian boat dock. Artur followed after, looking even more bedraggled than she did.
Even though Artur had collapsed his armor deliberately to help their escape, they'd nearly been crushed by the collapsing stone. Sabae was pretty sure she was going to have nightmares about dodging burning boulders falling through the water.
On top of that, navigating the canals and foundations of Ithos underwater with Artur stuck to her back with her shield had been absolutely exhausting.
The two of them had spent a couple minutes just catching their breath and staring up at the sky when a familiar face poked its way into Sabae's field of view.
Normally, Alustin would be cracking a joke about them laying down on the job, or something else only funny to himself, but his expression now was grim.
"The Havathi have seized the center of the city, and several of their patrols are heading this way. We need to find the others and get out of here."
"Where are the others?" Sabae demanded.
Alustin just pointed towards where the mysterious tree had been.
"Are they alright?" Artur asked.
Alustin hesitated, and something inside Sabae seized up.
"Alustin, are they alright? Is mah boy safe?" Artur demanded, climbing to his feet.
"Godrick's fine," Alustin said.
The only reason Sabae didn't grab Alustin and shake him was that Artur did it first.
"What about Hugh and Talia?" Artur demanded.
Alustin shook his head. "Talia's hurt, I'm not sure how bad. She's in a relatively safe, albeit extremely precarious, situation. I still can't track down Hugh. His spellbook must be blocking scrying near him still. He and Godrick got split up, somehow."
"I can go ahead and—" Sabae started, but both Artur and Alustin shook their heads.
"We're not splittin' up again," Artur said.
"And without my help, it'll take you nearly as much time to find the others as it would for you to just go on foot with us," Alustin said. "Besides, how much mana do you even have left in your reservoirs?"
Sabae wanted to argue, but she knew they were right. Even if she knew how to find them, she was running perilously low on mana— not to mention the fact that her mana reservoirs felt… sore, somehow, from repeated use of the windlode.
"Ah'll need days ta' refill mah mana reservoirs at this aether density," Artur said. "Are yeh doin' any better?"
Sabae couldn't help but be a little shocked by that— her reservoirs would probably refill within an hour or two at most.
Alustin shook his head. "Not by much. Every time I start to get a little mana stored up, I get into another fight. We're going to have to depend on stealth and speed if we want to pull this off."
"Lead on, then," Artur said.
Alustin took off at a run, and they stumbled after him.
As the drake flew, it wasn't far to the wreckage of the giant tree. As they ran, though, parts of Ithos began flickering in and out of the pocket dimension almost at random. They had to turn and detour to avoid many of those areas, but when they had to enter it, they couldn't travel at much more than a brisk walk without tripping on shadows or risking getting separated from the city in either the pocket dimension or the lake.
Even before it had been wrecked by the battle, however, Ithos's layout was hardly designed for traveling in straight lines.
Something clicked for Sabae then. That odd layout the canals had that she'd seen from above…
"Ithos is a spellform!" she gasped out.
Alustin and Artur both glanced back at her as they ran.
"The canals are laid out to form spellforms!" Sabae said.
Alustin just nodded. "That… makes a lot of sense. Mostly defensive spellforms, I'd imagine. I've heard of great powers designing cities like that before, but only a couple have ever been built. It's hardly a city plan that works alongside the actual needs of citizens, so you could only really do it in a city built from the ground up, and liches are usually the only ones who do that. And defensive spellforms on that scale would almost certainly interfere with the functioning of a lich's demesne."
"Less talkin', more runnin'!" Artur barked out.
Godrick couldn't find Hugh in the rubble.
He'd barely made it down to the ground safely. He'd had to shed his armor and use a levitation spell to land, but his mana reservoirs weren't as absurdly massive as Hugh's— getting to the ground safely had just about drained him, and he'd still hit hard. He didn't know if his ankle was broken or badly strained, but he'd needed to encase it in stone to walk on it. He'd also sprained his wrist, but not badly.
"Hugh!" Godrick yelled.
His voice was almost immediately swallowed up by the storm.
He only stopped searching when he saw the dragon approaching from the city center.
At which point Godrick simply sighed and sat down on a nearby branch, itself the size of a tree trunk, and waited.
He could barely even tell the difference between the rain and his tears.
When the clouds started glowing again, Godrick considered finding someplace to shelter from the lightning, but he couldn't even muster the energy to care, let alone stand up and get moving.
He just sat there, watching the dragon approach and the light build in the clouds.
Most of all, he watched the rubble of his father's armor burn in the canals.
Godrick only noticed there was something off about the glow in the clouds a moment before his vision was blinded by a blast of light brighter than any he'd ever seen before in his life. Brighter than the lightning strikes, brighter than Hugh's starbolts or flare spells.
But that wasn't what startled him the most.
It was the glow in the clouds just before the flash of light that really caught his attention.
It had been clearly, unmistakably blue.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The Scene of the Crime
When Sabae finally cleared the glare from her eyes after the explosion of light, it was just in time to see Kanderon descend from the clouds.
The sphinx's great crystal wings glowed far brighter than the moon or stars, bright enough to tint the whole city a vivid, electric blue. They didn't flap at all, simply spread out to either side of the massive sphinx like some vast geometric pattern that held some deeper meaning that Sabae wasn't meant to understand.
The meaning of the expression on Kanderon's face, however, she could understand with ease. It wasn't a complex emotion revealed by it, nor a subtle one.
It was wrath.
Then Sabae realized something else.
She couldn't see the dragon that had been approaching.
Sabae spun up her wind armor with some of the little mana she had left, and windjumped up onto a nearby roof, against the protests of Artur and Alustin.
It only took her a moment to see what she was looking for.
Or, the remains of what she was looking for.
The remains of the dragon had crashed into the city far short of the collapsed tree. If Sabae hadn't known what it was already, she never would have identified it as a dragon. It barely even resembled meat. It was, for the most part, just ash and char.
There was absolutely no sign of the Havathi fliers that had been accompanying it.
Kanderon came to a halt, hovering a few hundred feet above the city. Sabae could make out a small number of figures hovering beside her and standing on her back, but she couldn't make out any details.
The sphinx's tail twitched back and forth as she surveyed the city, almost like a housecat about to pounce. Coming from Kanderon, however, the gesture was far more ominous.
The three remaining dragons and the Havathi were frantically preparing for battle, but none moved to attack.
Sabae couldn't help but notice that the city had ceased its flickering into and out of the pocket dimension entirely at this point.
The standoff continued for several minutes, during which time Artur and Alustin made it onto the roof as well.
Finally, three Havathi fliers approached Kanderon, stopping a few hundred feet away. Sabae could almost swear the woman in the center appeared to be leaving ghostly afterimages behind her.
"Valia," snarled Alustin.
Sabae glanced at the paper mage, and just for an instant, glimpsed an expression of pure rage on his face. It was gone in the blink of an eye, however, and he just stared woodenly up at the fliers.
"You shouldn't be here, Kanderon," the woman— Valia, apparently— called out. Her voice was magically amplified, loud enough that Sabae could hear it even over the storm.
"And yet, I am," Kanderon said.
"This is a violation of the agreement, Kanderon. You were to keep to the west of the Skyreach Range, and our great powers to its east."
Kanderon said nothing, she simply stared at Valia.
Sabae heard a growl and she turned to see that Alustin's look of rage had returned. If she didn't know better, she would swear that this time, however, it was aimed at Kanderon. It vanished again, however, once Valia resumed speaking.
"Do you really think that anyone trusts you enough to let you reclaim the Exile Splinter, Kanderon? Do you think anyone trusts you not to use it again, simply to further your own ends? Would you really have the audacity to do so, right here at the scene of your ancient crime?"
"Yes," Kanderon said.
There was a long, drawn-out silence at that.
"If you go through with this, Kanderon, this will be the end of our treaty with you. Do you really think the great powers will unite against us if we move against you now?" Valia asked.
Kanderon started to laugh. It was a cruel laugh, one that raised the hairs on the back of Sabae's neck, but the sphinx seemed genuinely, truly amused.
"Little one, nothing would please me more than if your masters were to end the treaty. It would solve so many problems for me. Moreover, you've done me quite the service, and shown me how little your masters trust even their most loyal servants with full knowledge of the treaty's contents."
"This will have consequences, Kanderon! You can't simply…"
Valia trailed off as Kanderon snarled. Then, to Sabae's shock, Kanderon's wings began to grow . Dozens of new crystals seemed to simply begin phasing into existence, much like Ithos itself had done earlier. The crystals grew larger and larger as the wings extended farther out, some the size of houses. Many of the crystals left Sabae with the uncomfortable impression that she was only seeing the tip of an iceberg, and that far, far more of the crystal rested just out of sight.
Within moments, Kanderon's wings had expanded in size until they dwarfed her massive body several times over. They slowly curled in towards the tips, and some of the outermost hovering crystals had the appearance of great spines, filled with a light that was almost painful to look at.
"Leave," Kanderon said.
She didn't say it in an angry tone. Kanderon didn't make any threats, didn't move at all. Nor did the mages hovering around her. Her facial expression was almost bland, the snarl having vanished off her face.
She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to.
Without saying another word, Valia and her escorts turned and flew back to the Havathi lines.
Sabae thought Godrick was going to crush her with his embrace. Not in the metaphoric sense, but in the sense that her ribs were actually hurting, and she was pretty sure she'd have to use her healing or suffer bruises from it sort of way.
She made a mental note to check with Artur later to see if he needed any healing— Godrick had given him an even larger hug, apparently having been convinced that his father had died when his armor was destroyed.
Not long after that, several of the mages that had arrived with Kanderon landed beside them. Sabae only recognized one of them— Emmenson Drees, Hugh's terrifying spellform construction teacher.
Another, a little old woman, shorter than Talia, looked vaguely familiar, but Sabae couldn't place her.
"Meet the Librarians Errant," Alustin said, waving generally at the arriving mages. "Not all of them, of course, but it is a rather small order."
Sabae couldn't care less about that at the moment. One of the Librarians Errant was carrying Talia, who looked shockingly tiny and frail. She had, apparently, been injured and dangling from her dagger in midair for some time.
While a Librarian Errant tended to Talia's injuries— another concussion and a horrifying shoulder wound— the others organized a search party for Hugh.
When Godrick told them about the last time he'd seen Hugh, and the condition he was in, Sabae's heart felt like it was going to rip out of her chest.
Talia didn't deny it, or rage, or insist on going to search for Hugh. To Sabae's dismay, Talia just seemed to… fold in on herself.
Kanderon, meanwhile, hovered in the air high above them, staring at the retreating Havathi, not moving a muscle. Hardly even blinking.
When the healer had moved on to Godrick's injuries, Sabae sat down next to Talia and wrapped her arm around her. Talia leaned in, but didn't say anything.
It took the searching Librarians Errant over an hour to find Hugh. Sabae spent every minute of it worrying about him and comforting Talia.
When they finally found Hugh, there was another problem— Hugh's spellbook wasn't just blocking scrying, but was also snapping at anyone who got too close to him, and wouldn't let them anywhere near Hugh. It had bit one Librarian Errant hard enough to break a finger.
The instant Talia heard that they'd found Hugh, she was on her feet and demanding to be taken to him.
Hugh was deep inside one of the Ithonian palaces, well outside the debris radius from the collapsed tree that had arisen from Grovebringer's destruction. His spellbook had apparently managed to carry him down through the air, then haul him into one of the palace's inner rooms.
When they arrived at the room, Hugh's spellbook lurked in front of the door, its pages opened menacingly in their directions. If it could make noise, Sabae was sure it would be hissing at them.
The leather strap Hugh used to hang it over his shoulder had broken in half, and hung loosely to either side of the spellbook.
Talia strode forward without even hesitating, then crouched in front of the spellbook.
It raised its cover menacingly at her.
"You finally got the whole apology gift idea right," Talia said. "You brought Hugh back to me."
The book slowly closed its cover, and seemed to shudder.
"You did good," she said, and gently stroked its spine. "You did good. Everyone here is Hugh's friend. No one's going to hurt him."
She picked it up, and stepped into the room. Sabae heard a gasp, and when she followed Talia in, she understood exactly why.
Godrick had said it was bad, but Sabae had never imagined it was this bad. For a moment, she was convinced that Hugh was dead, until he took a slow, rattling, painful breath.
Sabae was fighting back tears when the healer set to work on Hugh. Talia, Godrick, and Artur didn't even try to hold their tears back.
Alustin just stared, quietly.
Eventually, the healer ordered them out of the room. As they filed out, Sabae found herself filled with rage. Not at Qirsad, or at Havath.
Rage at Alustin, and at Kanderon. For putting them into another situation like this. For getting them caught up in their games. For using them as pawns.
She turned on Alustin, ready to yell, to rage, to tell him exactly what she thought of him.
And then she stopped.
Alustin wore a look of deep guilt on his face, and he flinched when Sabae glared at him.
Sabae deflated a bit, but the anger didn't all vanish. She stalked towards a nearby doorway, gesturing for him to follow.
She didn't say anything, she just watched him and considered. Alustin kept eye contact with her, but it looked like a genuine struggle on his part.
"This is my fault," Alustin said.
"Yes," Sabae said. "It is."
"I… I shouldn't have split up the group. I should have kept you all with me. I should have taken Ithos' phasing into account. I should have used Ithos' labyrinth as our line of retreat. I shouldn't have brought you all on an expedition this dangerous in the first place. It's frankly astonishing that you all survived."
" If Hugh survives."
Part of Alustin seemed to crumple at that, but he didn't look away.
"Grennan is one of the best healers in Skyhold, I'm sure he'll be able to help Hugh," Alustin said.
Sabae was relieved to hear that, but she didn't let her glare waver.
Finally, Alustin looked away.
"When we get back to Skyhold, if you want to be apprenticed to a new master, I'll step aside without protest. I'll even help you find one, if you still trust my judgment there."
"I haven't told the others," Sabae said.
Alustin gave her a confused look.
"I haven't told the others that you used us as bait. Artur knows, but the others haven't even figured out that Midsummer was a coup yet."
"I don't understand," Alustin said.
Sabae sighed heavily. "The others idolize you, Alustin. Especially Hugh and Talia. Godrick, at least, has his father to look up to instead. They trust you, they rely on you, and I… I don't want to take that away from them, because I think you do care."
"I do," Alustin said, quietly.
"I also think that you value your goals more highly than anything, and if it comes down to it, I genuinely wonder what you'd be willing to sacrifice to reach them. To get your revenge on Havath."
Alustin didn't respond to that, but some of the guilt crept back on his face.
"I'm going to give you another chance, but I'll be watching you," Sabae said. "Try not to waste it."
She turned to leave the room and rejoin the others.
"Why?" Alustin asked.
Sabae gave him a long, considering look.
"Because even if you've made mistakes, even if you and Kanderon have used us as pawns in your games, you've also done a lot of good for us. You saw something in us when no-one else did. And you may have put us in danger, but I don't expect you to keep us perfectly safe. We're training to be battle mages, not mage-craftsmen or something of the sort. It's excessive, foolish risk I have a problem with. And considering the stakes, and the risk that the Cold Minds might have arrived in our world, I don't even know if I can say the risk was excessive. If there was any decision you should have made differently, it was bringing us on this expedition in the first place— and I'm pretty sure even I would have fought against that decision before all of this."
She hesitated, then continued. "And I also realized something recently— my anger at you and Kanderon using us as pawns wasn't because of your games, wasn't because of some moral standard I hold. It was simply because you chose us specifically to be your pawns. It was selfishness on my part, not principle. I was offended that you didn't use someone else. I think, if I'm going to condemn you, it should be for better reasons than that."
Sabae didn't wait to see how Alustin reacted before walking out.
Nor did she say the rest of what she had been thinking.
For all the sheer madness of Alustin's vendetta against Havath, at least he had a purpose. What did Sabae have? She'd never be a proper Kaen Das storm mage, but she'd never truly sought out a goal after that. She'd just gone with the tide, rather than try to swim her own direction. No matter how much power she earned, that on its own wouldn't free her or her friends from being used as pawns by others. It was having a purpose that turned you from a pawn into a player, and she didn't have one.
Maybe it was time for that to change.
After hearing the full accounting of Hugh's injuries, Talia was, frankly, amazed that he was still alive.
He'd suffered severe burns across something like a quarter of his body— not to mention minor to moderate burns across much of the rest. His lungs had been severely damaged by the volcanic ash, and Grennan, the healer, fully expected him to have some lasting damage, even with magical healing.
The spellbook hadn't had an easy time carrying Hugh to the ground, which had resulted in even more injuries. None of them could understand the spellbook as well as Hugh could, but they managed to figure out the story eventually. The strap had apparently broken while the spellbook tried to slow Hugh's fall. The spellbook had managed to catch him, but had broken several bones in Hugh's hand and wrist grabbing onto him, as well as dislocating his shoulder. Even with the spellbook slowing his fall, he'd still hit hard enough to break three ribs, nearly puncturing a lung with one and cracking two more, as well as developing a minor concussion. Not to mention plentiful bruises. Lake water had gotten into his burns somehow, and within hours of finding him, he was already running a fever from the infections.
Even with magical healing, recovery was going to be a long process for Hugh. The healer was especially concerned with the lung damage and infections.
The instant the healer was done with Hugh, Talia spent as much time by his side as she could stand, but she wasn't made for sitting and pining. She found herself climbing to the top of an intact palace to brood in the rain.
Once the Havathi had all left, the Librarians Errant had spent several hours scouring the city, mainly recovering some of the Sacred Swordsmen's weapons the Havathi hadn't managed to recover, as well as a handful of Ithonian artifacts.
During that time, the storm finished passing over Ithos, its trailing edge just as razor sharp as any of the other storms.
Kanderon spent the entire time crouched in the central plaza, staring at the Exile Splinter as if entranced. When she finally retrieved it, she simply pulled it from its spot with her paw, then tucked it away into some extra-spatial pocket dimension of her own.
The whole of Ithos seemed to shudder and settle as she did so.
There were only two other things Kanderon paid attention to in Ithos. The first was one of the ash piles scattered about the ruins, filled with shattered human bones. She didn't say anything, or make any expression, she just stared for a few minutes.
The second was Hugh himself. When Kanderon finally saw him, a look of rage crossed her face, and a horrifying growl erupted out of her chest. For a moment, Talia was convinced that Kanderon was about to launch herself after the retreating Havathi forces to take vengeance, but the sphinx managed to contain her fury with visible effort.
It was twilight when they finally took off. Everyone easily fit onto Kanderon's immense back. Her fur was shockingly soft and luxurious, and Talia had to struggle not to fall asleep instantly, especially since Kanderon's motionless wings made for an incredibly smooth flight.
Talia forced herself to stay awake, and watch Imperial Ithos shrink behind them.
The first glimmers of gold were lighting the ruins from beneath as it passed from sight.
Talia turned and went to speak with Godrick.
"This is my fault," Godrick and Talia said simultaneously.
Godrick gave Talia an exasperated look, which she returned. It somehow didn't surprise him that Talia wanted to take the blame on herself, but it definitely irritated him.
Hugh's spellbook, which was happily nestled in Talia's arms, seemed, for some inexplicable reason, amazed at their ability to say the same thing at the same time.
The two of them had moved farther down Kanderon's back from the others to get a little privacy.
"If I hadn't destroyed Grovebringer, Hugh never would have gotten hurt," Talia insisted.
"If yeh hadn't destroyed Grovebringer, it probably woulda' destroyed us, even if we'd managed ta' take out Qirsad on our own," Godrick said. "Ah shoulda' been more use in takin' out Qirsad, though— if ah'd destroyed Hailstrike sooner, ah coulda' defeated her without Hugh gettin' hurt."
"Yer both idiots," Artur said from behind them.
Both Talia and Godrick whirled to face Godrick's father.
"You're too big to be allowed to sneak up on people," Talia said.
Artur just raised an eyebrow at that. "Yeh're all lucky ta' be alive, goin' against Grovebringer and Ashspine at the same time. Ah never shoulda' agreed ta' that plan. Splittin' up against greater numbers was a mistake. Yeh both did fine. Yeh're only mistakes are misunderstandin' yer roles in the group."
"Our roles?" Godrick asked.
"It's obvious yeh aren't goin' ta be fightin' solo like Alustin or mahself," Artur said. "Yeh're going ta' be workin' as a team. What are yer roles in yer team?"
"I'm our heavy hitter," Talia said.
"And ah'm there ta' protect everyone," Godrick said.
Artur snorted, then pointed at Talia. "If yeh're the heavy hitter, then why do yeh keep talkin' as though it's yer job ta' defend the group? Yeh take out the threats facin' yer friends, and yeh count on yer friends to protect yeh."
His finger moved to Godrick. "And no, yeh're not the one protectin' the group. That's Hugh's job. Yeh're a lightnin' rod, Son. Yeh attract the attention a' enemy mages, and yeh hold that attention."
Godrick frowned at that. "Isn't that what Sabae does, too?"
Artur nodded. "Ta' an extent, sure. There's some role overlap fer all a' yeh. Mainly, she's yer flanker, and she's yer leader. So the two a' yeh need ta' stop beatin' yerself up fer not playin' roles that aren't even yers, and start figurin' out how ta' better fit yer own."
"Still, there's got to be something we could have done different to keep Hugh from getting hurt," Talia said.
Artur nodded. "Ah would imagine yeh're right about that, and ah also imagine there's plenty Hugh coulda' done different as well. He tends ta' over-rely on wards, fer one thing, even though he's got plenty a' other options ta' use."
The three of them spent an hour sitting around and talking over the fight with the wielders of Grovebringer and Ashspine, and how they might have gone about it differently. By the time Talia excused herself to go check on Hugh again, it was fully night, though well-lit by the moon. The Skyreach Range, meanwhile, was rising above the western horizon.
Godrick waited for Talia to get out of earshot, then he broached a question he'd been meaning to ask for a while now.
"Ah'm never goin' ta' be as powerful as yeh are, am ah?"
Artur gave him a long, searching look, then sighed. "Not by the same path ah followed, no. Yer mana reservoirs aren't near as large as mine were at yer age, and that's a' pretty reliable indicator a' their later size. On top a' that, several a' mah most powerful tricks are ta' do with my iron affinity an' mah enchanted gear. But yeh were never supposed ta' follow exactly in mah path, Godrick. It can only take yeh so far, and then yeh need ta' figure out yer own path from there. That's true a' anyone that gets powerful. No two archmages worth their salt follow the same path ta' power, and if yeh intend ta' get there, well… yeh'll have ta' figure out yer own way ta' get there."
Artur climbed to his feet. "If yeh're goin' ta' try and get more powerful, just make sure yeh're not doin' it ta' please me. Ah'm already proud a yeh, Son."
He started to walk off, then turned back. "Oh, and ah think yeh've finally earned a' name fer yerself. Godrick Hammerbreaker."
The smile that had started to form on Godrick's face turned into a scowl at that. As his father walked away, that faded too.
They had a long flight ahead of them, and Godrick would have plenty of time to think about his future.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Warm and Safe
When Hugh woke up, he had no idea where he was. He seemed to be lying in a soft bed with a thick blanket lying atop him. His body was a mass of aches and pains, and his vision was a mass of blurry, incomprehensible shapes.
Eventually, after much blinking, the shapes resolved themselves into mountain peaks, stars shining brightly above them.
Hugh slowly looked around him. He seemed to be on the shoulder of a mountain, or perhaps a ledge of some sort. He couldn't see down into it from this angle, but over the nearby cliff there was probably a river valley of some sort.
Why was there a bed outside on the side of a mountain, and who'd put him there? And why was his bed… furry?
"Ah, Hugh, you're awake," Kanderon said.
Hugh looked up— slowly, and painfully, but he managed it— to see Kanderon's face peering down at him, wearing an odd expression. He realized, with a start, that he seemed to be laying atop Kanderon's front foreleg, which was tucked against her chest as she lay near the cliff edge.
Hugh tried to speak, and promptly started coughing. Each cough was jagged and painful, and seemed like it wanted to tear something out of him. He realized that one of his arms was in a cast, underneath his thick blanket.
A waterskin levitated itself over to him, its lid unscrewing on its own. Hugh drank gratefully as it slowly tilted up for him.
"How are you feeling, Hugh?" Kanderon asked, when he was done drinking.
"Horrible," Hugh finally managed. His throat felt raw and torn, and his voice was raspy and unrecognizable. "Is… is everyone safe?"
He started coughing again, and Kanderon levitated the waterskin to his face once more.
"Everyone will be fine, Hugh. You were by far the worst wounded. You've been unconscious for several days now. Probably for the best— Grennan and Sabae have spent long hours healing your injuries, and you'll need many more healing sessions in the weeks to come."
"Where are we? And where's everyone else?"
"We're in a safe place— a hidden valley, deep within the Skyreach Range. I didn't want to risk flying you all the way back to Skyhold in your condition, and I needed rest as well. Your friends are all asleep— this is the first time you haven't had at least one of them by your side since you were rescued. Talia has been especially attentive."
Hugh smiled at that.
"We're dating now."
"So I've heard. It is of your own choice, correct? You're not under duress?"
Hugh gave Kanderon a puzzled look. "No, why would I be?"
Kanderon gave him a wry look in return.
"Just due diligence on my part. Oh, and she has, apparently, grown quite close to your spellbook. I admit, I was doubtful of its utility at first, but it saved your life in Imperial Ithos. I suspect it will grow to be the sort of item stories get written about, so I would suggest you think of a name for it. A… more fitting one than Talia's suggestion, perhaps."
"What did Talia suggest for it?" Hugh asked.
Kanderon gave an exasperated snort, the wind of which ruffled Hugh's hair.
"She's been calling it Mackerel. Worse, the aggravating little creature responds to it. Mackerel is hardly an appropriate name for something that will eventually grow to be a legendary magical artifact."
Hugh started giggling at that, only to break into yet another fit of coughing.
Kanderon gave him an exasperated look, but levitated the waterskin over to him again.
"Did we win?" Hugh finally asked. "Did we get the Exile Splinter?"
"We did, yes, in no small part thanks to you."
"What are you going to do with it?"
Kanderon gave him a long, searching look. It was a bit strange, looking at her from this angle.
"I'm not intending to use it again, if that's what you're asking. The risk of attracting the Cold Minds is too high. At Midwinter, when Skyhold's Vault can next be opened, I will seal it away within."
"Why did you use it in the first place? Surely there were faster, less… cruel ways to destroy Ithos," Hugh said.
Kanderon took a long time to answer, and sounded a bit hesitant when she finally did answer.
"Possibly, yes. Ithos was one of the best defended great cities ever to exist— only Havath today rivals its defenses. We still might have come up with some other solution, but those were desperate times, Hugh."
He chose his next words carefully. "I don't trust her, but Qirsad accused you of just wanting to perpetuate the system of great powers, to keep the chaos going to serve your own power. She said that's why you destroyed Ithos."
Hugh had expected Kanderon to grow angry at that, but instead, the look that crossed her face was pensive, almost sad. She gave him more water to drink before speaking.
"That was the greatest part of why I first flew to battle against the Ithonian Empire, yes. My foes accused me of being a cruel, power-thirsty monster over the century and a half I stood against the Empire, and they were right to do so. I opposed them because their system threatened my own power, my own territory. I like to think I've changed over the centuries, and that my opposition to imperial aims has transformed from a selfish to a philosophical one. It has, at least, become a genuine belief in the deep and fundamental instability of empires and the disproportionate chaos they leave in the wake of their collapse compared to nations or city-states. Has Alustin told you of my work sponsoring new liches?"
Hugh nodded at that.
"It is part of my effort to bring a little more stability to our world without conquest, without imperial expansion. Liches are far more stable over the long term than most great powers, and they're far more resistant to those with imperial aims. I choose my candidates for lichdom carefully, Hugh. I look for those who will not be tyrannical, and who will tend to the needs of their demesne's inhabitants. I don't always get it right, but, well… I can destroy a lich as easily as I help to create one. Even easier, truly. Liches are stubborn, hidebound, and slow to change in many ways. Immortality removes much of their mental plasticity. It can often result in unrepentant monsters, but it can also result in nigh-incorruptible defenders. Create enough of the latter, and perhaps it will help to change the system of great powers, to alter the balance for the better. It will be centuries yet before my efforts will likely come to fruition."
Part of Hugh marveled at how far into the future Kanderon planned.
"One of my foes could spend hours reciting my misdeeds, and I could spend hours lecturing you on my philosophical opposition to empires, Hugh, but neither lie at the heart of why I destroyed Imperial Ithos."
Kanderon went silent, staring off into space.
"Why did you do it?" Hugh finally asked.
"Revenge, Hugh. Ithos attacked my nest, atop the mountain now known as Skyhold. I lost my original wings in that attack. My mate was blinded. And our nestling… the Ithonians killed our child, Hugh. It wasn't an unprovoked attack by any means— I'd spent so many decades being a thorn in their side, and I committed monstrous wrongs of my own. None of that mattered to me, then. The only thing that mattered at all to me was that my child was dead, and I would see her killers pay. Have you ever seen an illustration of a sphinx nestling, Hugh?"
He shook his head.
"They're gangly, clumsy, ugly creatures, who can't go three steps without tripping over their own wings. If I were to attempt to be objective about it, I might have to admit to my daughter having been even scruffier and awkward than most. But she was the most beautiful thing in the world to me. And the Ithonians took her away from me."
Hugh felt Kanderon's massive frame shudder, but out of rage or grief he didn't know.
"All these centuries, and it still hurts as bad as it did then."
Kanderon was silent for a long time after that. Hugh didn't press her, he just watched the stars patiently.
"My mate and I gathered our allies, and we built the Exile Splinter. I constructed its physical frame, my mate constructed its core, and our allies crafted the spells within it and the spells that would carry it to its target. I attuned my aether crystal during the Exile Splinter's construction, Hugh, as you attuned yours constructing the Stormward around Theras Tel. It took us three long years to build, and cost the lives of five of the thirteen of us. Including my mate. But build it we did, and I don't doubt that those who died would still have gone through with it even had they known it would cost their lives, for we all hated the Ithonian Empire that much. None of us cared a whit for the consequences. And after Ithos was gone, we found replacements for the five we lost, and we founded Skyhold. Not as a place of learning, but as a fortress, dedicated to hunting down and shattering the remnants of the Ithonian Empire. Our hate, our vengeance… it justified everything to us in those days. Even looking back on all the atrocities we committed, Hugh, do you know what my greatest regret is?"
Hugh just shook his head.
"Building the Exile Splinter cost us more than just some of our lives. It cost us many of our memories, Hugh. I don't remember much of my life before the Exile Splinter. So much of it is just… gone. Friends and enemies, wonders and horrors, all simply gone. Worst of all though? I can't remember their names, Hugh. My mate, my child. I can't remember their names. I see their faces in my dreams still. I still remember the long, silent flights I would take with my mate. I still remember how messy my daughter would get when I fed her, and how she would struggle to get away when I cleaned her. But I don't remember their names. That's why I wanted the Exile Splinter back. Not to keep it out of the hands of those who would abuse it, or to use it again, or for any higher purpose. I wanted it back out of hope that it might restore my lost memories."
Kanderon was wearing an expression that he couldn't place at first, simply because it was so foreign to his image of her.
She was sad, yes, but she was also nervous.
Kanderon Crux, the Crystal Sphinx, the last living founder of Skyhold, the killer of the Ithonian Empire, was afraid of how he would judge her for her actions.
"Did it work?" Hugh asked.
Slowly, haltingly, Kanderon shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Kanderon," Hugh said. "I wish there was something I could do."
Kanderon smiled at him sadly, but also with visible relief.
"Thank you, Hugh. In truth, this is no great shock to me. I don't think I ever really expected to get those memories back. Some prices cannot be unpaid. In some ways, I think it might be a relief, to not have to mourn any longer."
Kanderon seemed like she wanted to say more, then sighed. "I have kept you up too long, Hugh. You should sleep. You're far from healed yet."
Hugh had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask, but Kanderon simply adjusted his blanket with her magic and tucked her foreleg in a little closer to her. The warmth quickly had Hugh's eyelids drooping.
"Kanderon?" Hugh asked, struggling to stay awake.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"For what, Hugh?"
"For taking care of me."
There was a long pause, and Hugh's eyes drifted shut. The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was Kanderon's voice.
"Always, little one."
There were very few beings on the continent that could sneak up on Kanderon Crux. Vanishingly few who had ever lived who might do so, in fact. But if one of them had done so that night, if one of them had crept up on the great sphinx— crept past the vigilant watch of her Librarians Errant, crept past the defensive wards of the camp, crept past a ward circling the sphinx that kept others from hearing any sensitive words spoken within from escaping, they might have heard something odd. Something that tickled their ears, just at the very edge of their hearing.
If they had been brave or mad enough to sneak even closer, they might have been able to start making out the sound. Even more perilously close, close enough that they might reach out and touch the sphinx with their fingers, and the sound would finally resolve itself into a low, deep, rhythmic rumble. A sound that would be familiar to any farmer or sailor, royal chef or scribe.
Sphinxes are not cats, any more than they are birds or humans. But they share traits of all three.
And that noise— that low, gentle rumble— was most certainly one of the traits sphinxes share with cats.
Kanderon Crux, the Crystal Sphinx, the Doom of Ithos, once known as the Calamity and as the Mad Sphinx, was purring.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Setting the Stage
Duarch Icola was in a truly vile mood as she entered the Conclave's chambers. She didn't show it on her face, of course— she never showed any emotion she didn't want to.
The wiser of the palace servants, however, had learned to read the tone of her footsteps as she strode the halls. Today the bronze fittings on her white-leather boots struck against the marble floors like hammer blows. None of the senior servants were to be seen anywhere near her. Not that Icola would abuse her power against her underlings just to vent her anger, of course— but one could hardly blame them for fearing running afoul of the tempers of the mighty.
When Icola entered the Conclave chambers, she found, unsurprisingly, that she was one of the only members to restrain their anger at all. Her counterpart in ruling Havath, Duarch Locke, was furious, snapping at everyone who approached him. The avatars of the Intertwined, the seven liches whose demesnes wove together to form the bulk of Havath City, were visibly perturbed— which was astonishing in and of itself, for liches were far more capable of restraining their expressions than those made of flesh and blood. Those of the great powers of Havath who could fit into the Conclave chamber were arguing with each other, and with the representatives of those great powers at the borders or those simply too large to fit within the conclave chambers.
Thankfully, it wasn't a full Conclave. The generals, provincial representatives, and archmages would have turned the chamber into a full-scale riot, but they were seldom invited to meetings this important.
Icola took a moment to contemplate the marble and bronze chamber, with its fluted columns, great windows overlooking the city, and its spellform defenses cunningly concealed amongst the decorative bronze inlays.
Quite a few of the occupants of the chamber were eying her, waiting for her to be seated beside Locke so the meeting could begin, but she strode along the outside of the great round chamber, until she came across one of the westward facing windows.
Havath City stretched out for miles below her. It was not only the greatest city on the continent, but also the wealthiest, most peaceful, and even the cleanest. Great marble palaces lined its wide boulevards, mixed with immense, perfectly groomed parks and gardens, none of which had a single blade of grass out of place. Even the slums on the edge of the city were clean, orderly, and well tended. No one went hungry in Havath City. It never rained when the Duarchs and the Conclave decreed it wouldn't, and it never failed to rain when they decreed it would.
Ringing the edge of the city were seven great bronze-armored statues, towering above the palaces of the city, save for the Conclave itself.
Far in the distance, past the great walls of the city, Icola could see the grain-covered plains extend to the horizon in orderly, neat squares, laid out sensibly, laid out rationally, with no quarter given to the chaotic whims of nature.
It was all orderly, it was all neat. The Havathi Dominion existed to bring prosperity, to end the reign of fear and uncertainty that the selfish, feuding great powers brought to Anastis.
Kanderon would not be allowed to challenge that vision. Kanderon would not be allowed to end Havath, just to preserve her own power. Kanderon and her backers were a blight on the Council, and she had finally given them an excuse to move against her without violating the compact the Council had forced on their factions.
She could not be trusted with the Exile Splinter. She could not be given a chance to crush the dream of a better future for the Ithonian continent, for Anastis itself.
She could not be allowed to ruin yet another proving ground for the multiverse.
Icola sighed and gathered her temper. She would need every ounce of self-control she had to deal with the fractious Conclave.
It was time for the Havath Dominion to go to war once more.
On the banks of Lake Nelu, in the first hours of dawn, just as the light of the lake was being replaced with the light of the dawn, the Heir of Ithos crept from the water.
The light still burnt their eyes even while closed. The heat was overwhelming, though not so hateful as the light. After all, heat is what they had been promised by the Wise Ones on the other side of the dark. They had promised that once they themselves were warm again, they would share that warmth with the Heir. They would make sure the Heir had all the food they could eat, all the clean water they could drink.
And all of that with no one there to steal it. No one to fight them for scraps in the dark. No one that you had to huddle with to stay warm, but whom you could not fall asleep near lest they decide you were better used for meat than for warmth.
Of course, they could not fall asleep against you either, for much the same reasons.
And then the Heir had been the last one scrabbling in the dark. They had been alone. It had been good, until the last of the food began running out. The last of the old ones had filled the heir's belly, but then they had not been there to make bad water good or make warmth out of nothing for the Heir.
As much as the Heir could regret anything, it was eating the last old one. They missed the way it was safe to sleep against the old one for warmth without fearing becoming food. They missed the strange lights the old one could summon, and the mysterious warmth. They had tried to teach the Heir these things, but the children born in the dark could not learn the old ones' magic. All those miraculous things were not what the Heir regretted most about eating the last old one, though.
No, what the Heir regretted most is that they couldn't remember the soft nonsense word the last old one had whispered as they brushed the Heir's stringy, greasy hair with their fingers. It was a word that had described the Heir and only the Heir, and only the last old one had used it, and now the Heir could no longer remember that word.
When the Heir was alone in the dark, they grew colder and hungrier until they were ready to give up.
And then the Wise Ones on the other side of the dark had found them. Had spoken to them. Had taught them how to survive the cold. Had taught them so, so many things. So many tricks, so many strengths. They taught the Heir how to become like the dark itself, that none might remember the Heir after they looked away.
They taught the Heir how to sleep the sleep that was not sleep, that lasted forever and no time at all, so that the Heir could be ready when the time came.
And most of all, they taught the Heir how to call them.
They had warned the Heir how bright this place that was not the dark was. How warm it was. How much food there was.
But they had also warned them how many others there were. How many others to fight for food and to make you not trust where you slept.
The Wise Ones' warning had proven right. The instant the dark had intruded upon the other place for more than mere moments, had grown close enough to that place of light for the Heir to finally awaken fully from the sleep that wasn't sleep, the others had arrived, swarmed everywhere, and destroyed all of the hiding places and not-shadows of the dark.
Three of them had seen the Heir. Two of them that were meat and a third that was not meat but still moved, who was small hung over the shoulder of the meat not wearing a shell of stone.
The Heir had fled then, and they had forgotten the heir, save for the other that was not meat but still moved.
The Wise Ones had promised the Heir that once they were called, they would take care of all the others that might steal the Heir's food.
And the Heir would be alone again, but they would be warm, and they would be full, and they would not need to fear thieves and hungry mouths in the dark anymore. They would not need to fear sleep when it was warm, would not need to fear light as a trap.
The Wise Ones from the other side of the dark promised that when they were done, they would help the Heir forget the last old one, who somehow hurt them by not being there.
And the Heir trusted the Wise Ones' promises, because they had no bodies to betray the Heir with. And if there was only one thing the Heir knew about being human, it was sharing warmth. And the Wise Ones were so cold, and just wanted to be warm again.
On the banks of Lake Nelu, the Heir of Ithos, a creature that might have been human once, turned to face the ruined city that they had once known as the dark, known as their home. And insomuch as the Heir was capable of feeling anything but hunger and fear, they felt nostalgia twined with hate twined with fear of leaving, all aimed at the ruins of Imperial Ithos.
And it was there, as the Heir spent a few moments gazing out into the mists and the ruins that filled them, that the Heir readied itself to call the Wise Ones to this light place so they could be warm again.
And it was there, as the Heir began to look away from its former home, that it would never enter again, that they felt a sudden flare of pain that ended as quickly as their tragic life did.
And it was there, on the banks of Lake Nelu at dawn, as the light of the sun usurped the light of the lake entirely, that the Mage-Eater became the first being since the long-extinct Labyrinth Builders to thwart the plans of the Cold Minds. It was there that the Mage-Eater became the single greatest hero in the history of the Ithonian continent, of Anastis itself.
No one would ever know, of course. And even if someone managed to ask the Mage-Eater about it, it was doubtful that the tigress had any thoughts on the matter, save perhaps irritation at the Heir being so stringy.
Appendix: Galvachren's Guide to Anastis
Annotated by [Redacted]
The world of Anastis should, by any account, be a hub for multiversal travelers. ([Redacted]'s note: Isn't it, though?) There are more mana wells than nearly any other known inhabited world, with a preponderance of them being junction wells.
For some reason, however, the labyrinths on Anastis have run amok. They're far deeper and more tangled than any others I've encountered, going far beyond the original design of the Weavers. Whether this is a result of the unusual characteristics of this universe's Aether, or a result of how close to going aether critical this world is, is unknown. It's also possible that the labyrinths are evolving over time. I'm curious what the Weavers would think of that, but, alas, we'll never know. ([Redacted]'s note: Galvachren is, so far as we can tell, the only scholar to refer to the Labyrinth Builders as Weavers. We have no idea why. We remain fairly confident that he's not old enough to have encountered the Labyrinth Builders— Galvachren might be ancient, but he's no Cold Mind.)
Physical Overview: Anastis is disproportionately geologically active, even for a young world. Much of this can be attributed to Anastis' preposterously large moon. Moon is a poor name, really, since Anastis and its moon actually orbit one another— it's not significantly smaller than Anastis itself. This also results in the massive tides of Anastis, which have resulted in the unusual population distribution on the continents— sapients on Anastis only inhabit the coast atop seacliffs or other raised landforms. Atmospheric pressure is also marginally higher than most inhabited worlds— in combination with Anastis' moon, this results in some truly impressive storm systems.
([Redacted]'s note: "impressive storm systems" is understating it.)
Anastis has recently exited an ice age, but it doesn't seem to be thanks to interference by [redacted] . ([Redacted]'s note: The ice age is only geologically recent. To anyone else other than Galvachren, recent is a terrible adjective. And of course there's no [redacted] presence— Anastis is one of our strongholds, not theirs.)
Ecological Overview: Anastis' ecosystems are, to say the least, a mess. Remnants of the original ecosystem can still be found in some parts of the world— Ithos' Endless Erg, Gelid's great mudflats— but for the most part, it has been supplanted by invasive species that have poured out of Anastis' countless labyrinths over the eons. I've personally identified species from dozens of known worlds, and countless more I don't recognize.
There are at least a half dozen tool-using sapient species, and half again as many non-tool using sapients present. None are native to Anastis. This doesn't count the numerous members of the "Great Powers" of Anastis that are the only representative of their species on Anastis. It also doesn't count Aether mutations and [redacted] that can't properly be counted as members of their species any longer. ([Redacted]'s note: Our assessments of the count differ from Galvachren's, but this is, as usual, thanks to differing definitions of what counts as a species. Our official nomenclature also differs with who counts as [redacted]— while many of the Great Powers of Anastis can go toe to toe with [redacted, there's more to becoming [redacted] than mere power. Galvachren, after all, is no [redacted, and, well... Anyhow, by our definition, there are no [redacted] on Anastis. Which is one of the reasons we established this as one of our stronghold worlds.)
The strangeness of what native life is still present leads me to hypothesize that Anastis originated in a relatively distant habitable reach of the multiverse, and that its connections have shifted over time.
There is a truly splendid diversity of spiders on Anastis. I could fill entire volumes on them. None are native, however.
Aetheric Overview: The Aether of Anastis is singularly unusual. While in many respects its Aether resembles a fairly typical liquid Aether world, there appears to be some process interfering with the free flow of Aether. Aether density is radically variable across Anastis, something usually only found in gaseous Aether environments. Even then, however, it's seldom even close to the Aether density variance of Anastis. There are a few rival hypotheses as to why this occurs.
The most popular hypothesis points to the unusual number, depth, and complexity of Anastis' labyrinths as the cause. While plausible sounding, an actual mechanism for this is seldom put forwards.
Another hypothesis claims that the Anastan Aether is thixotropic— that it responds to shocks by changing its viscosity. Shocks in this sense, of course, being heavy draws upon the Aether. The downside of this analysis, of course, is that no-one has ever felt said viscosity change.
There are a few other minor hypotheses to consider, ranging from the eccentric to the insane, but the last I find worthy of inclusion is that there is some sort of substrate through which the Anastan Aether flows. This is controversial, to say the least— there has never been direct evidence of any such substrate, and solid Aether is, to say the least, quite easy to perceive. Still, there is a marked similarity between the Anastan Aether flows and the movement of liquids in aquifers. ([Redacted]'s note: So far as we can tell, Galvachren was the originator of this hypothesis, but he shows his usual reticence in claiming credit for anything.)
Regardless, as a consequence of this, Anastans tend to do well as multiversal travelers. They tend to recover from Aether sickness far more quickly when traveling between worlds than natives of worlds with more stable Aether. It seems likely that the variable Anastan Aether density has acclimated their systems to an extent.
As an added benefit, Anastis is far less prone to Aether exhaustion than many other worlds. One city-state overusing its Aether will seldom even affect many of its neighbors.
The magic of Anastis is also unusually versatile in function— not on an individual level, where mages tend to have quite specific portfolios of power, but overall, it's astonishingly diverse.
Political Overview: Thanks to the variable Anastan Aether density, political organization tends to lean towards smaller nation states and city states. While a few empires exist, they're far less common on Anastis than other worlds. The lack of Aether exhaustion as a major threat to civilization also changes political interactions, though in a perhaps less easily definable manner. ([Redacted]'s note: What a polite way to say that Anastan politics are an unstable, constantly shifting mess of coups, civil wars, and assassinations.)
There is relatively little organized multiversal presence on Anastis. [Redacted] have planted none of their [redacted, [redacted] incursions are unknown, and the [redacted] has built no [redacted]. ([Redacted]'s note: We most certainly have, and Galvachren's visited them. What's he up to? Perhaps he thinks he's doing us a favor by not letting others know we're here? We might be one of the weaker multiversal powers, but we're not that weak, [Redacted] infections are a non-factor, and there are few [redacted] on Anastis. ( [Redacted]'s note: there are no true [redacted] on Anastis. Again, it's why we made it one of our stronghold worlds. Anastis' Aether is inherently hostile to those belligerent, imbecilic godlings.) The Radhan are, as with most human worlds, present, though as is often the case, they have little idea how far their own civilization extends. There are a larger than normal number of demons on Anastis, but that's simply a consequence of the numerous labyrinths. ( [Redacted]'s note: It is, as always, exasperating trying to figure out who Galvachren considers to be a multiversal power. His list is considerably shorter than expected, and excludes quite a number of powers that we'd include. Most notably of course, Galvachren himself.)
Author's Note on Tigers
I spent a long time researching man-eating tigers before I started writing this book, and you know what? Honestly, I had to make the Mage-Eater considerably less scary than actual man-eaters.
Take, for instance, the Champawat Tiger. Or, tigress, really. She was the single deadliest man-eater on record, killing and eating at least 436 humans, averaging one a week for over a decade in Nepal and India. (Some of scholars think the number is even higher- 436 is what we can reputably prove. )
Most man eaters are wounded tigers, who are no longer capable of hunting the more dangerous large game they prefer, like water buffalo, wild boar, and even occasionally rhino and elephants. The Champawat Tiger lost a number of her fangs to a gunshot wound. (Seriously, whoever labeled humans the most dangerous game was being a bit egotistical— we're actually super easy to hunt, thanks to our relatively weak senses, slow movement, and lack of natural weapons.) The combination of old lingering wounds and expanding human presence is what generally drives most man-eaters to prey upon us.
It's also notable that man-eating tigers, especially the Champawat Tiger, rarely attack at night, favoring the daylight. Though if they are inclined to attack at night, they wouldn't have much trouble tearing through walls or doors to get to people. Tigers are by far the largest big cats, and they're absurdly strong, even for their size. They can easily kill with a single bite or swipe of their paws.
Unsurprisingly, there's a lot of conflicting and unknown information about how tigers hunt. You don't really want to get too close to that sort of thing, unless you want to risk pissing off the tiger. (Pissing off a hunting tiger or a mother tiger is a serious risk to tiger researchers, and often a fatal one.)
There is one major exception to the normal tiger hunting pattern- Sundarbans tigers. The Ylosa River Delta is in great part based off the tidal mangrove delta of the Sundarbans, in India and Bangladesh, where the world's only population of active man-eaters live. For some reason, tigers there (and nowhere else we know of) consider humans a perfectly reasonable part of their diet, and an average of fifty people die to tiger attack in the Sundarbans per year— at least, that are recorded. Sundarbans tigers have been even recorded swimming out into the Bay of Bengal to steal people off of boats— tigers are magnificent swimmers.
There's a lot of theories as to why Sundarbans tigers are the way they are, including from the fact the only water they have is brackish, but it's a bit of a long-winded discussion to have here.
The Mage-Eater is something of a mix of a Sundarbans tiger and a standard man-eater, with a bit of a vindictive streak that I think is quite reasonable to attribute to a cat. I also feel quite comfortable speculating that cats would be able to see magic if it were real.
Man-eating tigers are just too terrifying for me to have included without toning them down a bit— the reality is just too unbelievable.
For how horrifying man-eaters are, it's important to note that most tigers aren't man-eaters, and vastly prefer to avoid humans at all times. We should respect tigers, yes, but right now, they also need our help. Thanks to habitat loss and poaching, tiger numbers in the wild are dangerously low. They've started slowly climbing again after decades and decades of precipitous losses, but there are still less than four thousand alive in the wild worldwide.
Tigers are an essential part of their ecosystems, and, like other apex predators, serve a vital function in regulating herbivore populations. Losing them entirely would cause incalculable environmental damage. And, on a more sentimental level, a world without wild tigers would be a far sadder, less magical place.
I'll be donating a percentage of the proceeds of this book to wild tiger conservation. (I normally donate 10% of my income to charity anyhow, so this will be on top of that.) If you have a little spare cash, I highly encourage you to do the same— you can, among other routes, adopt a tiger through the World Wildlife Fund.
I never want to see a wild tiger up close, but nor would I ever want to live in a world without any.
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading The Lost City of Ithos, Book 4 of Mage Errant!
We're moving into the endgame now- from here on out things are going to get crazy! Mage Errant is currently planned at 6 books and a short story collection, and with any luck, I'll have book 5, The Siege of Skyhold, out by the end of this year. (It's not like I've got much else to do at the moment but write— COVID-19 is back in Vietnam, so we're all back in lockdown at the moment. And there's only so many videogames I can play.)
If you enjoyed The Lost City of Ithos, please consider leaving a review online! Reviews, especially on Amazon and Goodreads, can make or break an indie author like myself.
If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to contact me at john.g., on Twitter (@john_bierce), or on Reddit (u/johnbierce). For news about the Mage Errant series, other upcoming works, and random thoughts about fantasy, worldbuilding, and whatever else pops in my mind, check out . The best way to keep updated on new releases is to sign up for my mailing list, which you can find on my website.
I've also have a , which can be found at /johnbierce. There, I post monthly Mage Errant short stories. (Including the story of The Wanderer, who gets briefly mentioned in this book!)
Edited by Paul Martin.
Cover art by Tithi Luadthong.
Cover design by James of
Special thanks to my beta readers Jacob Perkins, Francis James Blair, Travis Riddle, Sarah Lin, Sundeep Agarwal, Eliot Moss, and Adam Skinner.
Additional special thanks to my backers Otto Schloegl, Diallo Bennett, Josh Fink, Andrew Alves, Andrew Cogan, Jeff Chang, Dylan Alexander, Cortney Railsback, David Kidd, Jacob William Perkins, Robert Rodabaugh, Jeff Petkau, Stephen Neville, Paolo Ruiz, Mikal Hofstad, Andreas F. Sørensen, Jeremy Miller, Kyle Matthews, Anika Howard, Andy Barnett, James Titterton, Ruediger Pakmor, Daniel Williams, Ryan Campbell, Cory Leigh Rahman, Joseph Lee, Scott C. Adams, Zachary Tilson, Nathaniel Ownbey, Marcus Thomas, and Floroo.
If you enjoyed this book, here are a few others you might enjoy:
Evan Winter's The Rage of Dragons: This book is, well, intense. It's a pretty classic vengeance tale setup, with a boy determined to avenge the unjust death of his father, and throwing himself wholesale into training to achieve his goals. Where this book shines is when it comes to execution- Winter does a fantastic job of exploring the emotional depths of vengeance, and the struggles real life can present in staying on that path. Not to mention, the African-inspired Bronze Age setting is one of the coolest settings I've encountered in a long, long time.
Sarah Lin's The Brightest Shadow: Wuxia meets epic fantasy. Absolutely fantastic first volume in a doorstopper epic fantasy series. Fast-paced action, fascinating cultures and races, and, best of all, it's one of the few fantasy books I've encountered set on a prairie!
Shami Stovall's Frith Chronicles series: Follows a gravedigger's son, Volke, as he seeks to become an Arcanist- a magic user whose power comes from bonding to magical creatures. Rather than the phoenix he'd been seeking, however, he finds himself linked to a very different magical creature, as he's put toe to toe against devious foes and a mysterious magical plague.
F. James Blair's Bulletproof Witch series: Fast paced fantasy western series following a pistol witch who's hunting the demon that killed her family. Talking horses, magic duster jackets, demon possessed outlaws, and magical gunfights galore.
Blake Charlton's Spellwright trilogy: A fascinatingly clever and original setting, where magic is done via magical languages, where misspellings can have disastrous consequences. Which means that few look kindly on the protagonist, who happens to be magically dyslexic.
John Bierce's The Wrack: Hey, look, it's one of mine! The Wrack is a depressing standalone epidemiological fantasy novel following a plague across the continent of Teringia. It… was pretty surreal releasing it alongside COVID-19, to say the least. Definitely not my plan there. The Wrack is part of the same multiverse, The Aetherverse, as Mage Errant, and you'll notice some really interesting and unusual crossovers between the two— though you don't need to read one to read the other.
If you'd like to learn more about tigers, I highly recommend:
Dane Huckelbridge's No Beast So Fierce: A history of the Champawat Tiger, the deadliest killer of humans in history.
Sy Montgomery's Spell of the Tiger: The Man-Eaters of Sundarbans: A fascinating exploration of the strange world of the Sundarbans mangrove forests, the man-eating tigers within it, and the beliefs and traditions of the people living alongside them.