Ends of Magic
Chapter 39: When the cavalry wears the face of a foe

Stella spent a good deal of the trip down the hill complaining about running dry on mana. Her increased channeling rate had let her dump almost twelve thousand mana into Aarl’s new armor, which grew shinier and more responsive as it became charged up. Earlier it had looked like a tight-fitting dark robe with a metallic glint, decorated with dark gold symbols.

Now it shone with a deep silver luster, and the golden symbols glowed slightly. It looked like some kind of futuristic techno-magic power armor.

And that’s basically what it is. It just came from a civilization that died thousands of years ago.

Really, Stella was just annoyed she hadn’t been able to take a nap, though she agreed that it would be wiser and more practical to rest in Tarren. Beyond being protected, they'd have comforts like beds and hot food.

And a bath. I’m pretty dusty. Though I think the [Disintegration] treatment did some nice exfoliation and cleaning. But we’re still hiking across a desert, so it’s not like I can avoid getting sweaty and dusty.

Stella had been cheered up by the magical crystals he’d brought her from the spider-constructs. They appeared to be a kind of synthetic conductive quartz - it apparently wasn’t very high quality, but each one was almost the size of Stella’s torso. Nathan managed to fetch six of them from the wreckage of all of the spider-constructs.

He’d looked for any crystals from the brick constructs too - he bet they’d have some good ones, given the power of their magical firepower and shields. But the bricks had been vaporized by the explosions that had dug large craters out of the hilltop, and there was nothing to be found.

The Heirs only saw a few constructs as they descended the hill, and all were at quite a distance, either retreating or keeping watch from the eastern hills.

Sarah aimed her rifle at them, but didn’t end up firing. “Too far, and they’re mostly scout constructs anyway. I don’t think I could hit the eye of a strike construct from here.”

As the Heirs passed by the destroyed remains of the siege construct that Sarah had blown up with a long-distance shot - it was clear they were also being watched from the town. Dozens of heads were visible poking over the battlements, barely more than specks from this distance.

Nathan looked up the slope at the town of Tarren. “Damn. That siege construct has some range. Tarren’s high up there. And now we gotta climb that hill.”

Stella rolled her eyes, stretching and looking generally exhausted. “Yeah, complain all you want Stamina-man. You don’t even get properly tired anymore so long as I hit you with a lightning bolt. The rest of us have to feel it.”

They trooped up the road, which switchbacked up one side of a leaning arch of stone that connected to the top of the mesa. The road had been deeply carved into the rock to ascend the nearly sheer cliff, in some cases almost crossing back over itself.

Partway up the path, the road was slick with blood and covered with dozens of goat carcasses. They were like the ones he’d seen south of Cromer, big animals with four large horns and matted hair. It looked like the constructs had caught the herd as it was being driven up the road, and promptly massacred them. Nathan didn’t see the bodies of any shepherd, and hoped they’d made it to safety.

The Heirs picked their way past the bodies, climbing to the top of the slope where the road led across the narrow arch to the gatehouse, still nearly a quarter mile away. The road was about twenty feet wide, but dropped off more than a thousand feet on both sides. A few immobile constructs lay scattered along the road’s length, with more visible smashed along the slopes below.

What is it with Gemore and heights? I’m glad I have [Slow Fall], or I would feel a lot more apprehensive about this.

“Adventurers approaching!” Khachi’s voice was booming as it rolled across the landscape, clearly assisted by a spell. After a moment it echoed back from the sheer mesa wall in front of them.

The response was just as loud. “Approach clear! True aim you have there. Are you the Heirs?” It sounded like an older man, rough with age.

Khachi raised an eyebrow as he replied. “Indeed we are! On approach!”

The Heirs walked across the road on top of the arch, and Nathan saw the gatehouse clearly. It was a sturdy construction, blocking the end of the arch and the town beyond. It was also clearly worse for the wear, having taken several hits from the siege-fireball construct, which had destabilized the towers and partially broken in the wide gate.

More dead constructs were visible around the gatehouse, scattered around the base as if they’d been killed trying to climb the structure. There were a mix of scout and strike models, and they formed a small pile in front of the gate.

“Muckgrabber’s filthy asshole.” Sarah’s swear drew Nathan’s attention, and she pointed to the top of the gatehouse, where their reception committee awaited.

Oh shit. That’s Simla. And Kozar, his… uncle? The one who stood for Simla during the Solstice duel. Who wanted an excuse to challenge Sudraiel to a duel. Uh.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Nathan spoke to Stella. “You sent a [Message] to Gemore saying that we beat the siege and are entering the town, right?”

She nodded back at him, eyes fixed on the Adventurers atop the gatehouse. “Yup. And I’m ready to cast a shield if any of them decide to be a ghoul’s uncle. The pale mage to Kozar’s left is Argan Shotz, exile from Litcliff who joined Kozar’s team. He’s a powerful water mage.”

Khachi looked back, eyebrows angled down in a severe expression. “They are fellow adventurers. Do not suspect bloody intentions without cause.” Sᴇaʀᴄh the NøvᴇlFirᴇ(.)nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Aarl’s answered wryly. “They might think they have cause, given what happened at the Solstice. And what came of it. And all the way out here?”

Khachi’s tone was cutting, though it stayed quiet. “And they can probably hear you. Be silent.”

The Heirs walked the remaining distance in tense silence, and Nathan studied those awaiting them - there were three distinct clusters atop the wall. The first was eight Adventurers led by Kozar, and included Simla and his team.

But there was another group of Adventurers, four older people who stood separate. Nathan remembered seeing them at the Solstice, but didn’t remember any details.

At least they’re standing apart from Kozar and Simla.

The final group were clearly villagers, whoever was suited for combat. A mixed batch of men and women with assorted slings, spears and other weapons bulked out the mess of fighters atop the wall. And while the villagers outnumbered the Adventurers five-to-one, Nathan knew that it was the Adventurers who had carried the defense of the town.

The villagers probably have some combat skills, but they don’t make a profession of violence like we do.

As the Heirs got closer, Kozar called down to them. “Any constructs hiding on the road?”

Khachi called back, pitching his voice respectfully. “No holdouts. They’ve retreated to the eastern hills.”

The old man nodded, pursing his lips before gesturing to Simla with his handful of javelins. “Nephew, open the gates.”

The mage standing by Simla’s side cast a spell, and the entire group of younger Adventurers hopped off the backside of the wall. A moment later the gate creaked open, abused hinges protesting the movement and revealing Simla and three of his teammates straining against the bent metal.

Those constructs really did a number on the gate. I’m impressed it moves at all - but Simla and his team all probably have strength enhancements from Davrar.

The Heirs trooped into the city, warily passing a glowering Simla. Nathan was expecting some kind of snide remark from the beautifully armored young man, but received only silence.

Then one of the watching villagers raised their voice, speaking with a thick accent. “A cheer fer tha Heirs! Them who saved Tarren! If giants wake they’ll put ‘em down!”

The villagers all gave a shout, and the Heirs felt welcome in Tarren.

Nathan looked back and saw Simla’s wince, as if he’d taken a painful blow.

–

An hour later, Nathan and Khachi were sitting in the common room of the Adventurer barracks in Tarren. Stella, Aarl and Sarah had all crashed in a small bunkroom, with Stella especially passing out as soon as they’d gotten some food in her and pushed her towards a bed.

Nathan and Khachi weren’t that tired, though for different reasons. Apparently one of Khachi’s new class skills gave him better endurance and decreased his need for physical resources - he’d phrased it as “a step closer to divinity.”

Meanwhile, Nathan’s enormous pool of Stamina and [Perfected Body] protected him from any of the symptoms of exhaustion. Nathan was gazing off into space, wondering if he could use his Talent to substitute for sleep.

Probably for a little while, though I think I won’t want to try to make the shift sudden and permanent. Maybe try sleeping only a few hours a night, then try skipping every other night and keeping track of how I feel. I don’t know enough neuroscience to be comfortable making permanent changes - so I’m more likely to treat it like cleansing toxins. But it would be nice to be able to stay on guard for longer right now.

Nathan grimaced. He and Khachi weren’t explicitly keeping watch in case any of the other Adventurers tried anything, but there was a reason they were both sitting here, keeping an eye on the entrance to the room where the rest of the Heirs were sleeping.

The worst part is that Kozar is explicitly in charge. He’s the leader of the strongest team here, no question. And the only way to dispute that would be with a direct challenge. And he’s recognized as an elite, so there’s no way that works out well for me.

The door opened, and Nathan tensed as five figures filed in. Then he recognized them as the third group of Adventurers, whom Nathan had seen atop a wall but not recognized. There were four grizzled older men and women, each dressed in blackened breastplates and carrying six wicked daggers. The fifth was a young knuld woman who was obviously a mage.

That’s not an uncommon pattern - I saw it with the Blades of Steel too, back when they were relieving us at Bridgeguard. A recent graduate of the Tower of Trickery joining a team of older Adventurers, who are scarred and experienced but lacking magical support.

Two of the new arrivals went into the kitchen and started preparing food with the stocks left to them by the villagers, while another came and sat down near Nathan and Khachi.

He introduced himself in a rumbling voice. “I’m Delric. Delric Enesto, and I lead the Old Hands.” He gestured to the other Adventurers in the room. “Good to have you here.”

Then Delric snorted, mouth twisting wryly as he shook his head. “More than good. You wiped out that endings-damned army of Old Gemore. We saw the lightning from here - impressive as Dragon’s Breath.”

I’m sure Stella would love to hear that compliment.

Nathan and Khachi both gave the man respectful nods, though Khachi was the one to speak. “We arrived in time, and are free of all regret.”

Delric nodded absentmindedly, barely acknowledging Khachi’s words. He cast a look towards the door. “I was at the Solstice. I know there’s smoke and blood between you and Simla. With Kozar here - you’re no fools to be suspicious. But don’t be. Gemore knows what occurred, and we won’t let any dark tricks pass.”

Then Delric took a deep breath, and cracked a wide grin. “But let’s not smother our fire any more than needed. We’re alive today, and hope to be alive tomorrow. And tomorrow, after the town defense is put to rights, we’ll track the war constructs back to the foundry fortress that spawned them.”

Nathan spoke up, asking a question that seemed relevant. “Why not wait for more Adventurers? There was an all-adventurer call. Surely more are on the way.”

“The Dusteaters are close, though they’re understrength. They lost their leader recently, from what I understand. Remember ‘til ending.”

Nathan grimaced, dipping his head in acknowledgement and echoing the older man. “Remember ‘till ending. We were there for Nornan’s death - a nest of Ashblood Cobras.”

Delric nodded at Nathan’s point. “Dangerous foes. But we can’t give the foundry fortress time to make more constructs - they make an army a day when fully active. Another team of Adventurers isn’t worth a delay. You should rest, and we’ll leave in the evening. The Dusteaters will arrive in the night to protect Tarren.”

Nathan traded a look with Khachi, the unspoken question clear. The [Divine Justicar] shook his head “we will remain awake. Neither of us have much need for sleep.”

The door opened again, and Kozar led the way into the room, trailed by Simla and both teams of Adventurers. The old man was built like a castle wall, dark skin wrinkled but with muscles flexing underneath like bands of iron. His finely trimmed salt-and pepper beard matched black-enameled silver armor that looked like a masterpiece of the enchanter’s craft.

But not as much as Aarl’s new armor!

The old Adventurer sat at a table near them, barking out orders to his team. “The villagers will put what remains to right. We leave at sundown. Eat, rest, do what needs done. Simla, attend me.”

Simla sat down across from his uncle, and the family resemblance was clear. Kozar glanced over at Nathan, meeting his gaze with a smoldering intensity that made Nathan quickly break eye contact and look at the table.

He’s probably over level 500. An Elite of Gemore, somebody who’s spent their life in violence. Not a great enemy to have. But I’m not going to run away from him.

Nathan’s introspection was interrupted by Kozar’s voice, directed at Simla but clearly pitched to carry around the room.

“Simla. My nephew. The inheritor of the Bhola. You are the young champion of the Traditionalists. Are you proud?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan saw Simla puff up, lifting his chin and meeting his uncle’s gaze with an air of trepidation.

“Yes, uncle. I am proud to represent the traditionalists among my generation.”

Kozar’s response was a whipcrack, harsh and scourging. “Why are you proud? You fail to represent us. Behold the Heirs.” His arm flashed out to point unwaveringly at Nathan and Khachi.

The old man’s voice became a rolling boulder, gravelly and overpowering. “They represent Sudraiel, and her plans strike their targets. And why should they not? Her representatives slay giants, and you struggle with mere men.”

Nathan eyebrows vaulted towards his hairline, and he caught Khachi’s gaze to share the awkwardness.

Why are they arguing about this here? In front of us?

Simla flinched, but opened his mouth to respond. Kozar rolled right over him, his voice burying anything Simla said. “The Adventurers need freedom from rules. They need not be restrained by the villages - we must become stronger. That is what we say, and it is true. But how does it appear to those undecided when those who follow the Guildmistresses' rules are so strong as to end a nest of Ashblood Cobras, clear an Edrani dungeon and save a village in the span of a week?”

Simla’s jaw was set, his temper up. “You saw the lightning! It was some artifact from the dungeon! Strength stolen, not their own. Any can do such a thing.”

Kozar’s voice was venomous. “Then steal some strength of your own! You were approved for a dungeon delve on my word - and you did not succeed. You have not reached level 81! You are a disgrace of an Adventurer.”

Simla’s voice was quiet, but held a core of steel. “The dungeon was beyond us. It was retreat or die. There was no nemesis we could slay in that tower of lies and poison.”

Kozar’s hand hit the table with a loud thwack, leaving a crack through the slab of stone. “There is always another option! Find it and level. Or die. Or else the Heirs will carry the day - again.”

Simla’s head swung towards where Nathan and Khachi were sitting. Nathan was only watching out of the corner of his eye, but he could easily see the burning venom in the young man’s gaze.

Oh. That’s why we’re here. To help Kozar humiliate Simla and push him harder. He’s going to get Simla killed. You know what, fuck it. I don’t have to play my role in this script. I can give offense, but not too much. Kozar can’t challenge me without a damned good reason, and Simla stands less of a chance against me now than he did on the Solstice.

Nathan brought his head up, meeting Simla’s eyes. “You swore to protect Gemore. We swore more than that. Some day, we’ll be gone - dead or traveling to end the Endings. But Gemore will always need competent Adventurers. People who can fight, and fight well. Adventurers who can defend villages against the threats of Davrar.”

Kozar snarled, but Nathan ignored him, keeping his eyes on Simla. “Your path is your own. Don’t let an old man make his failings your own. Fight for yourself, Simla Bhola. You saved lives here because you retreated from the dungeon, and kept your team alive. What is worth more? Those lives, or your pride. Or his pride?” Nathan tilted his head towards Kozar.

The old Adventurer’s words filled the room, trembling with cold rage. “Do you mean those words, boy? Do hold your own pride highest, then tell my nephew it’s no loss if he’s lesser?”

Nathan turned to meet Kozar’s eyes and almost flinched. The man’s lips were peeled back in a snarl, and his eyes were like whorled pits into a realm of horrors. To meet the man’s gaze was to understand a threat of implicit violence so deeply it reached back and yanked on Nathan’s brainstem.

Fuck, I think he’s got a skill like [Intimidation]or something.

Nathan let loose the leash on his Rage, focusing his thoughts to let no change slip to his features. The strength that flowed through his muscles was mirrored by the resolve that crept through his thoughts, and he met Kozar’s eyes and leaned forward.

Resistance to mind-affecting skills while Raging from [Antimage’s Impassivity].

Nathan’s voice was resolved as he met Kozar’s skill with one of his own. “I meant what I said. We don’t need to be at each other’s throats. Improve to protect, not to compete.”

High-tier Earnestness 9 achieved!

Why am I defending Simla? He tried to kill me in a nonlethal duel. But I hate seeing somebody like Kozar being abusive. Simla’s an asshole, but it’s not hard to blame his role model for that.

Nathan stood suddenly as Kozar opened his mouth to reply, his rapid motion drawing the eyes of everybody who hadn’t already been paying full attention to the conversation. “I’m going back to our room.”

I need to get out of here before I do something we'll regret. [Battle Meditation] and Old Hands or no, I have the feeling this is a rather dangerous situation, and I’m not making it better.

Khachi nodded his approval, and Nathan ran away from a fight he was convinced he couldn’t win.

Status of Nathan Lark:

Permanent Talent 1: Magic Absorption 10

Permanent Talent 2: Perfected Body 4

Talent 3: High-tier Slow Fall 8

Class: Implacable Antimage level 110

Stamina: 3098/3600

Antimage’s Impassivity

Antimagic Momentum

Raging Thrill

Implacable Inertia

Unarmored Resilience

Improved Antimagic

Strenuous Agility

Hand-to-hand Expertise

Utility skills:

Battle Meditation 4

High-tier Earnestness 9

Mid-tier Sprinting 10

High-tier Spellsense 8

High-tier Notice 3

High-tier Identify 4

High-tier Dodging Footwork 4

High-tier Enhanced Memory 7

Mid-tier Lecturing 8

High-tier Tumbling 1

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