Illusory Empire: A Magic School Progression Fantasy, page 41
He’d focused on the work to the exclusion of all the ongoing attacks from the Midlian Remnant, which suggested the work was of the utmost importance.
After a few days, he’d dismissed her and disappeared into his rooms to craft a new spell. He’d emerged just today not speaking about what he’d been working on to anyone, even her. But he’d been ecstatic.
When it was time to go, Zale led Kole back to her home and through the door that sometimes led to a closet and other times a kitchen.
Today, it was a door to a ballroom. Doug, Rakin, and Amara were waiting inside with an older female dwarf Kole didn’t recognize.
She was wearing the typical dwarven attire of simple tunics lightly adorned with runes. The runes were functional, and the closest to a conceit to aesthetics the utilitarian people would make. While they were technically functional, few dwarves kept the intent required to activate them stored in their mental vaults. And, being thread, the tunics would be single-use unless they were made of costly, alchemically enhanced materials.
They all wore their better clothes, which for Amara meant her least stained coveralls, and for Rakin meant his robe with a small amount of embroidery.
Zale had dressed Kole in another variant of the Stormcaller clothes she always picked for him, though this one was not as fine as the one from the dance—which had been thoroughly destroyed in the battle, beyond even the means of magic to fix.
They greeted each other, and Rakin spoke, introducing the other dwarf.
Or, I guess, the dwarf, Kole thought, since Rakin was not in fact a dwarf.
“Kole, this is me ma Dagmar,” Rakin said, the two gesturing to each other. “Ma, this is Kole.”
“Nice ta meet ya,” Dagmar said. “Me son has said some kind things about ye, which means something, as ye likely know.”
“He did?” Kole asked, surprised both that Rakin had spoken of him to his mother at all, and that the things he’d chosen to share had been positive.
“Aye, but don’t ruin it by getting a big head,” Dagmar said to Kole.
“Are you sure you’re adopted?” Kole asked Rakin, earning loud laughs from both him and his mother.
Zale gave him an approving look.
Dagmar, it seemed, like her son, appreciated banter.
As they waited, Zale’s mother joined them, followed by Tigereye and Underbrook. Runt snuck in after them and tried to look like she didn’t want to be there.
“Who exactly constitutes family for this family dinner?” Kole asked Zale in a whisper.
“Anyone Mom trusts, really. For the most part, it’s just people she’s adventured with.”
Kole greeted his teachers and noted that Professor Underbrook was acting a bit odd. He was rather subdued and not making a big show of everything.
“Where are we?” Kole asked as they waited for the last person—Tal—to arrive.
“Crossroads,” Zale answered. “This is our house here. They”—she gestured to her mother and Dagmar and then nodded to the door to signify the absent Tal—“spent a lot of time here at one point. They bought this place from an adventurer when she retired from retirement and moved to Edgewater.”
“Finally,” Trish said as the door opened and Tal stepped out.
“Sorry,” he said, holding his hands up to forestall any attacks. “There was a dragon situation.”
“Ye can’t keep using that excuse just because ye killed one dragon,” Dagmar said.
“You know for a fact I’ve killed more than one dragon,” Tal said, smiling at the surly dwarf.
“Bah,” she said, “if yer head gets any bigger, it’s not gonna fit in the Dahn.”
As they left the house together, Tal made his way over to Kole.
“Every great mage needs a surly dwarf to keep him humble,” he whispered to Kole, outside of earshot of the mother and son.
“Do duergar count?” Kole asked, smiling.
“I suppose we’ll see,” Tal said.
They found a minotaur statue dominating the front yard. The group moved past it, most paying it no mind, but Doug, Kole, and Amara were mesmerized.
Kole had only heard of Crossroads in passing since coming to the surface. It was a small town in the middle of nowhere, known for its high concentration of retired adventurers and the Crystal Dragon Gambling Parlor that inexplicably existed in the middle of nowhere.
The parlor towered over the town, a brilliant-white pillar of stone rising high above the rest. They headed there on foot. On the way, Kole studied Tal. The older man was looking all over, his eyes jumping from alley to storefront to window. At each sight he smiled, as if fondly recalling his past.
The town bore evidence of a recent conflict, but one of a much smaller scale.
“What’s that damage from?” Kole asked, pointing to a pile of rubble near the city’s small walls.
“The invasion,” Tal answered as if it were obvious.
“How did this place survive the invasion?” Kole asked, disbelieving.
“Try to cast a spell,” Tal said by way of answer.
Kole complied and tried to cast a Light cantrip. Nothing happened. It was like the Font of Light didn’t exist.
“How?” Kole asked.
“This town is probably the most heavily warded place on Kaltis outside the Avatar’s prison,” Tal said, conjuring a Light of his own in his hand to prove he could.
He added, “Very intricate and powerful wards.”
Amara perked up at that and inundated him with questions until they reached the parlor.
They climbed the large steps in front of the parlor and were greeted by a hostess, who led them to a private room in the back.
The place was opulent, living up to its reputation, but the food on offer was not what Kole expected. It was a breakfast buffet. An elaborate and varied breakfast buffet, but a breakfast buffet nonetheless.
“Why?” Kole asked Zale, who was looking at him waiting for the question.
“I can’t say, but it’s kind of a nostalgia thing,” she told him.
***
They mingled for some time before they got their food and seated themselves. Just as they found their seats, a bald man who looked vaguely elven joined them, greeting Trish with a kiss on the cheek and Tal with a firm handshake. He seated himself, not partaking in any of the food, and listened as Trish spoke.
“This is not something we do often,” she said, “but in the wake of triumph and tragedy, it is important to celebrate and mourn with family and friends. Today we are doing both. While I’m only actually related to one person here, you—well, most of you”—she looked at Kole, Doug, and Amara—“are the family I have chosen.”
After the brief speech, everyone took turns going over their parts in the recent battle. Trish’s and Dagmar’s stories aligned with what Kole had heard from Rakin. Tal’s story omitted the part where he was present twice, both in his far past and recent history.
Underbrook hung on every word Tal said, and it was odd seeing the normally irreverent halfling show so much respect and deference to another wizard. He listened to Lonin, but always with an air of reluctance and jest.
“That wasn’t a dragon,” the bald man at the table said, offended when Tal spoke of it.
“Are you sure?” Amara asked. “It looked a lot like a dragon.”
The room grew tense and silent as the bald man studied Amara.
She, as always, was oblivious to the tension.
“You wouldn’t know a dragon if you were eating at its table,” the bald man said.
Kole’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at Zale. She gave him the barest of nods. Suddenly Kole was no longer hungry.
“It wasn’t actually a dragon,” Tal admitted, saving Amara from saying anything that might get her in trouble. “It was one of the heirs to the Midlian Empire.
“We figured out what that other realm is,” he went on to explain. “The Midlian Empire discovered it before the Flood, and I found some records on it.”
At the mention of records, the bald man—who was apparently a dragon—perked up, and Tal gave him a “be patient” gesture.
“They called it the Realm of Dreams. It’s not actually the place we go when we dream, but it is a full realm, outside the Material and Astral, and not a pocket realm. It’s a place where collective will can shape reality. The empire, in all their wisdom, used this endless potential to impose a rigid caste structure. They morphed their ruling class into the elemental houses we fought, and each house molded their lower caste into the humanoid creatures that served them.”
“Aye, but not the dwarves,” Dagmar said proudly.
“Aye indeed,” Tal said, smiling. “The dwarves were too stubborn to be changed by the will of others.”
Kole asked the question he’d been wondering about. “Why did they attack now?”
“They just found their way back,” Tal explained. “They found pocket realms over the past few years linked to the Material Realm. The barriers between realms have been weakening over the last hundred years and finally got to the point they could cross. The original plan was to invade from pocket realms while forcing open rifts from the Dream Realm inside each major city, but somebody ruined those plans. They were forced to move their rifts to outside—or above and below—the targets.”
“That reminds me,” Trish said, pulling a pouch from of her jacket.
She tossed it on the table to her daughter.
“This is your team’s payment for your contribution to the war effort so far,” she explained.
“We got paid?” Kole asked.
Underbrook took that question.
“All the students in the PREVENT program are considered adventurers if they contribute in times of crisis and are paid as such. The pay rate when there’s a conscription is low, but it’s more than what a soldier would earn.”
Kole looked at the small bag, a little disappointed.
Zale, however, looked at it as if it were a hoard of gold. Gingerly she picked the bag up and turned it upside down. Gold coins poured out, and the plate in front of her was completely covered before she had the presence of mind to stop the flow.
“I deducted the cost of the bag from the payment,” Trish explained, “but there’s still a lot.”
“What? How?” Kole asked.
“It’s a bag of holding, dear,” Trish said, intentionally ignoring his actual question.
“Why do you think all the other cities survived the invasions?” Tal asked Kole.
“Because they were prepared?”
“Well, yes, but I should note that it was your team who allowed them to be prepared. Still, even after you revealed the plan with the rifts, the empire adapted. They found a means to move pocket realms, and a way to fill them with their men in a much more reliable fashion than waiting for rifts to open.”
“The weird spiderweb thing?” Amara asked.
“The weird spiderweb thing,” Tal confirmed. “When you destroyed the connection to the Space primals, the whole mechanism fell apart. Many of the pocket realms that were moved simply collapsed, killing everything inside.”
“How do ye calculate pay for that?” Rakin asked, staring at the pile of gold, knowing the bag was filled with more.
“I counted,” Tal said, tapping his head. “I have a very good memory and keen senses. I saw the aftermath of our battle in the void.”
“And they just took yer word for it?” Rakin asked.
“Yes,” Tal said, leaving it at that.
“How much?” Kole asked.
“At least ten thousand,” Tal answered.
That was a significant amount even split five ways, and Kole would see to it that Runt got something as well for her efforts. Coupled with the sale of the ball from the hardball match—which would likely increase in value if word of their exploits didn’t remain secret—he’d be set for as long as it would take to find his parents.
“Each,” Tal finished.
The room grew silent.
Sometime later after the hysteria of the pronouncement settled—and Runt had insisted on her own share—the room broke up into separate conversations.
Runt’s insistence had met with a stern glance from Trish, who tossed her a pouch of her own, though by the clink, it hadn’t been a bag of holding.
The mysterious bald man never shared his name, only listening to all the other stories with the air of a wine connoisseur enjoying a flight of untested vintages.
That is, until Tal introduced him to Amara.
“This is Tilavo,” he said to her. “He is the man who warded the town.”
Zale had communicated to Amara that she should be wary of Tilavo, explaining the subtext to his not-so-subtle warning. She’d grown incredibly quiet and reserved thereafter. Any fear she might have had of the man who was likely a dragon vanished as her insatiable curiosity for runes took over.
Tilavo, for his part, quickly forgave Amara her earlier slight at the realization that she shared a passion with him.
The rest of the evening was spent in smaller, normal dinner conversations, though they were often Dagmar and Trish sharing stories at the great and powerful Tal of Storms’s expense. When it was time to leave, Tilavo extended Amara an invitation to return whenever she pleased, and Trish opened a door to the Dahn right in the room.
Tal turned to Tilavo with a challenging look, and Tilavo gave a perfectly innocent expression before he stared at the door with desire clear in his eyes.
Chapter 72
Spellbook
I hope that my continued existence, a hundred twenty years after my own birth, lends some truth to my words. I should also note that I am neither a vampire nor a lich. Vampires being, I should add, very real despite modern sentiments.
—Tal of Storms. A Wizard in Time.
After the conversation at the Crystal Dragon dinner died down, everyone growing tired, Kole made his way back to his room.
He tried to sleep. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t.
The itch of sorcerous potential was gone, but the itch of desire to study remained. After a half-hearted attempt to fall asleep, Kole got out of his bed and pulled out his battered spellbook.
Only a few minutes of studying later, a squeak interrupted his concentration. He turned to see a very put-upon-looking rat coming out from under his bed.
“Sorry,” Kole said. “I don’t keep food here anymore.”
How does a rat look put-upon? Kole wondered as he examined the rat’s posture.
He understood his ability to interpret Gus’s mannerisms was a function of Amara’s magic, but was that giving him a general understanding of rats?
Kole really didn’t like thinking about that Font, though he did want to experiment with Amara more. He’d cast a cantrip that should have only conveyed a simple meaning, but she’d used that as a bridge to communicate something far more complex.
That could be very useful in battle, he thought, making a note to force Amara to do some actual practice with her Font besides using it to control her ants.
The thought of the ants reminded Kole of Amintha’s possible end, and he shuddered. Both at the idea of being suffocated by ants and the thought that she might still be out there and alive, blaming Amara—and likely now him—for all the problems that were her own making.
In Kole’s rat-inspired introspection, it took him a moment to realize that there was a second door in his room once more.
“Is that how you got in?” Kole asked the rat.
The rat didn’t answer—and Kole admitted if it had, he’d have panicked slightly.
“Maybe the library is back!” he said, getting up to check.
He threw his spellbook into his bag, planning on taking a quick look through the stacks for some new spells if the door to the library had returned.
Kole opened the door to reveal a library, but not the library. A fire burned in a large hearth, filling the room with a comfortable orange glow. By the stonework and the stained glass windows looking out into the void, the room was still a part of the Dahn, but this was the first fireplace he’d ever seen within the tower that lacked the need for the crude means of heating.
Books lined the walls of the rectangular room, some couches set around the fire. A large—a very very large—desk filled the far corner, and behind it sat Tal, a half dozen books open before him.
“Ummm,” Kole said, “hi?”
“Oh, sorry,” Tal said, looking up. “Did I wake you? I’d noticed that the door to that room was missing from my study, and I thought I’d reconnect it.”
“No, I was awake,” Kole said, looking at the room in a new light. “I was trying to study, myself.”
This is his private study?! He tried to read the names of the books nearest to him, but he couldn’t make them out on the few that were titled.
“Well, since you’re up, I was meaning to have a talk with you,” Tal said. “Do you have a moment?”
Kole walked toward the desk, looking all over, trying to drink it all in.
How many traditional spellbooks are in this room?
“I see you met Little Roland,” Tal said, pointing to the pack rat who had poked his head into the room.
“Is this the same pack rat from before?” Kole asked.
Tal’s eyes lit in remembrance.
“Oh! I forgot, you have met,” Tal said, hitting his head in jest. “It’s rather hard to keep track of these things sometimes.”
“These things being time travel?” Kole asked.
“Yeah, that,” Tal said, taking a seat as Kole took his. “Little Roland over there follows me around whenever I’m in the Dahn, and I do mean whenever. I—uh—named him before I knew of Zale and when Roland was still alive. I wouldn’t have done so otherwise.”
“How?” Kole asked.
It was a vague question, but the intent was obvious.
“I can get to that, but I think I should ask you a question first,” Tal said.
Kole nodded and gestured for him to go ahead.
