“You’ll forgive me if I don’t bow,” the archmage said.
Nym had been fighting to keep from reverting too much back to his child-personality. He needed to be sharp and ruthless right now. It had been a strain though as that part of his mind kept trying to push back to the forefront. When a literal archmage, one of the strongest humans in existence, grabbed him with a teleport and pulled him to the heart of the undead scourge, everything froze back over. There were no more arguments between personalities. Nym was cold and sharp as ice now.
“Think nothing of it. You’ve obviously got your hands full with all of this right now.”
Nym didn’t think he could keep his bluff going much longer. Talking to Lord Feldstal had been bad enough, but now there was no leaving unless Archmage Veran let him. Somehow Nym doubted the old man would simply take ‘no’ for an answer.
“Indeed,” the archmage said. “Quite the mess. If I’d known back then what I know now, I could have fixed this properly instead of merely delaying it. It is fortunate that you survived your encounter with the frost wraiths and warned us in time to prepare for it.”
“You know I was involved in that?” Nym asked. That wasn’t good. He’d been even more helpless then than he was now. There was no way this guy was going to believe Nym was some all-powerful god being just slumming it for nebulous reasons.
“Of course. Leaf went and found me immediately to let me know what the two of you uncovered. I got the whole story from him and Babkin. Incidentally, I’d like to apologize for his behavior. He was never very good at social interactions, and he has a soft spot for children. You obviously aren’t one, but I hope you can understand the mistake.”
“It’s in the past,” Nym said. “Let’s talk about why I’m here now.”
“Well that very much depends on whether you’ll admit that you actually are an ascendant like little Jaspar thinks. Sorry, Lord Feldstal. He gets touchy if I call him little Jaspar.”
“What if I tell you I’m not?” Nym asked.
“I guess I would be disappointed that you felt the need to lie to me, and perhaps a bit insulted that you think so low of my intelligence that this disguise would fool me.”
“I wouldn’t want to anger an archmage. I suppose I must be an ascendant after all.”
Archmage Veran started laughing. “Ah, I wonder what happened to you, my old friend. I’ve never seen you look quite this young. And the stories they told me of your exploits… you don’t seem like yourself.”
Nym’s eyes widened slightly. He knew Archmage Veran? Or rather, Exarch Niramyn did. He was completely screwed now. Maybe if he’d had the time to try out that new conduit and push to the fifth layer, he would stand a chance, if only because it would have allowed him to unlock his memories. But he didn’t have that time. He’d barely even started working on the third layer, and he only understood about half of what his past self was talking about when it came to burrowing through the fourth layer.
“Nothing to say?” the archmage asked. “I understand why you don’t want to get involved. ‘Mortal problems are for mortals to solve. Why did I bother teaching you magic if I was going to have to come take care of it myself?’ But I’m afraid that this time, the problem might just be beyond my abilities.”
“I’m not who you think I am,” Nym said.
“Yes, clearly something has happened to you. That, or you’re playing at a game I can’t even begin to guess the purpose of.”
Nym’s mind went into overdrive. The archmage clearly knew he was an ascendant, and perhaps even knew his past self’s true identity. He felt some sort of affection for Exarch Niramyn, perhaps enough to help Nym now. There had to be a way to use that. Having such a powerful connection could ease his rise through the third layer and help him reach the fifth. If there was anyone who could show him the way, it was an archmage.
It was time for some creative truth telling. “Let’s say that I decide to help,” Nym said. “But let’s say that I can only help you as I appear to be, a young human mage with a decent grounding in second circle magic. What would you want me to do?”
“Second circle?” Archmage Veran raised an eyebrow and looked at Nym. “I’m sure you must mean third. I’m not blind.”
“My mistake,” Nym said. “Of course I meant third.”
“If we’re maintaining the fiction, then I suppose I would pass off the spell I am holding to you. You’re more than strong enough to maintain it, and it is only third circle magic, after all. Then I would start working on a more permanent solution to all of this.”
“If one mage with a third circle spell can hold this closed, why did they need so many?” Nym asked.
“It took fifth circle magic to pull the tear closed by myself,” the archmage explained. “I am only using an admittedly complicated third circle spell to keep it from opening back up. It will hold for a few hours longer if I maintain it, but eventually I’ll grow too weak to do so.”
“And as payment for this, I would want something appropriate for this form.”
“What would that be?” Archmage Veran asked.
“I need to learn how to make a conduit to the fifth layer.”
The old man barked out a laugh. “You want me to teach you what you taught me? Very well. It’s a small enough favor in return for your help.”
Nym worked hard to keep his expression smooth. This whole debacle could actually play out in his favor after all. He just needed to hold a spell construct steady for a few hours while an archmage cleaned up the mess below. Granted, it would be a bit more complicated in practice, but he was confident he was getting the better end of the deal.
“Explain to me what you want me to do,” Nym said.
“There are two spells at work right now. The first is a, and forgive the term, pinnacle spell, that is reaching into the tear and subjugating the reaper trapped on the other side. Without it putting pressure on the Veil to tear it open further, much of the strain of holding the tear closed disappears. It’s an expensive spell though, very complex and using a lot of irreplaceable tools that I’ve burned up in the process. It will hold on its own for perhaps another six hours.
“The second spell is a variation on the ritual spell planar lock that group of third circle mages was using. It’s designed to keep anything else from passing through the tear, but needs to have arcana channeled into it constantly. It’s easier to maintain as long as the pinnacle spell is still running, so you should be able to handle it yourself. As soon as the reaper is free again, we’ll lose the spell and the tear will split open again.
“You’ll keep channeling arcana into the ritual planar lock while I work on cleaning up the influx of undead. Once everything is stabilized, the army can get back in here and resume locking everything down.”
Nym looked down at the forest below them. Everything was blurry, like looking through a window that had been coated in grease. Even with that, he could still see a stone mausoleum with a roof overgrown with moss and lichen. The grounds around it were a muddy, churned up mess from the sheer number of undead that had passed through. Wispy, fog-like tendrils hung in the air around the whole thing, shifting unnaturally in various directions and completely ignoring the breeze that moved the trees.
When he concentrated on what he was seeing, Nym could almost make out the tear in the Veil inside the building, if only because of the aura of Archmage Veran’s arcana surrounding it. “How do I take over powering this spell for you?”
“It will be delicate, but I’ll manage that. This spell is technically a ritual spell designed to be powered by multiple mages. The number of people who could do so single-handedly is… low, but I don’t think that will be an issue for you. I’ll integrate you into the active ritual and then shift powering the components of it to you, one at a time.”
They set to work. Nym started drawing in third layer arcana with Archmage Veran’s guidance, and found it much easier to manipulate when using a series of filters he implemented into the conduit at the archmage’s suggestion. It slowed the arcana coming in and helped break it off from the Astral Sea, which made it much more manageable without having to close the conduit completely.
Once they were sure he could manage the needed arcana flow, Nym was pulled into the ritual so that he could sync his arcana up to Archmage Veran’s. Then, one at a time, he was slowly handed off the various pieces of the construct. It was rather like playing a game of cat’s cradle, where he was instructed to hold or pinch various pieces of the structure while his partner manipulated other pieces.
In the end, he had the entire thing supported in his arcana and Archmage Veran disengaged completely from the ritual. With each step back the old man took, it became harder and harder to maintain, so they went slowly. All told, they took over an hour to transfer the planar lock spell to Nym’s control.
The spell was so ridiculously complicated that Nym couldn’t even begin to unravel how it worked, but he didn’t need to. He just needed to hold it in shape and feed it arcana. That was a considerable strain, but not so much that he was in danger of losing it any time soon.
“How long do you think you can hold it?” Archmage Veran asked.
“Maybe an hour. Two perhaps?” Nym said.
“Truly? That is… considerably less than I was expecting. I had best get to work then. Do not move from this spot. The camouflage screen below us is the only thing keeping the wights from realizing we’re here and attacking.”
And then Nym was abruptly alone in the air. Archmage Veran’s teleport spell was so smooth and so fast that there was barely even a flash of arcana around the man before he disappeared. Nym looked around, trying to spot him below and expecting to see some extremely powerful magic tearing through undead like they were nothing.
Instead, it was just him, sitting in the air, by himself, holding onto a spell and hoping he didn’t mess something up. Minutes went by. Undead roamed around on the ground, doing whatever undead things they liked to do when they weren’t busy hunting and eating the living. Nym was starting to wonder if this was some sort of joke where they just wanted to see how long he’d stay there, holding the spell and looking stupid, while they scried on him and laughed.
Then a column of fire exploded into the air about three miles away. It easily cleared the tree tops before expanding in every direction, and it was so loud that Nym could actually feel it. The spell he was maintaining started to slip from his inattention, and Nym clutched desperately at it to keep its shape. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far off from how he was supposed to be holding it and it wasn’t difficult to fix it back up.
Another column rocked the forest a mile north of the first one. Nym grit his teeth and held tightly to his own spell construct as the shockwave washed over him. “And to think I wanted that excitement right below me,” he said. “That was a stupid idea.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t bow,” the archmage said.
Nym had been fighting to keep from reverting too much back to his child-personality. He needed to be sharp and ruthless right now. It had been a strain though as that part of his mind kept trying to push back to the forefront. When a literal archmage, one of the strongest humans in existence, grabbed him with a teleport and pulled him to the heart of the undead scourge, everything froze back over. There were no more arguments between personalities. Nym was cold and sharp as ice now.
“Think nothing of it. You’ve obviously got your hands full with all of this right now.”
Nym didn’t think he could keep his bluff going much longer. Talking to Lord Feldstal had been bad enough, but now there was no leaving unless Archmage Veran let him. Somehow Nym doubted the old man would simply take ‘no’ for an answer.
“Indeed,” the archmage said. “Quite the mess. If I’d known back then what I know now, I could have fixed this properly instead of merely delaying it. It is fortunate that you survived your encounter with the frost wraiths and warned us in time to prepare for it.”
“You know I was involved in that?” Nym asked. That wasn’t good. He’d been even more helpless then than he was now. There was no way this guy was going to believe Nym was some all-powerful god being just slumming it for nebulous reasons.
“Of course. Leaf went and found me immediately to let me know what the two of you uncovered. I got the whole story from him and Babkin. Incidentally, I’d like to apologize for his behavior. He was never very good at social interactions, and he has a soft spot for children. You obviously aren’t one, but I hope you can understand the mistake.”
“It’s in the past,” Nym said. “Let’s talk about why I’m here now.”
“Well that very much depends on whether you’ll admit that you actually are an ascendant like little Jaspar thinks. Sorry, Lord Feldstal. He gets touchy if I call him little Jaspar.”
“What if I tell you I’m not?” Nym asked.
“I guess I would be disappointed that you felt the need to lie to me, and perhaps a bit insulted that you think so low of my intelligence that this disguise would fool me.”
“I wouldn’t want to anger an archmage. I suppose I must be an ascendant after all.”
Archmage Veran started laughing. “Ah, I wonder what happened to you, my old friend. I’ve never seen you look quite this young. And the stories they told me of your exploits… you don’t seem like yourself.”
Nym’s eyes widened slightly. He knew Archmage Veran? Or rather, Exarch Niramyn did. He was completely screwed now. Maybe if he’d had the time to try out that new conduit and push to the fifth layer, he would stand a chance, if only because it would have allowed him to unlock his memories. But he didn’t have that time. He’d barely even started working on the third layer, and he only understood about half of what his past self was talking about when it came to burrowing through the fourth layer.
“Nothing to say?” the archmage asked. “I understand why you don’t want to get involved. ‘Mortal problems are for mortals to solve. Why did I bother teaching you magic if I was going to have to come take care of it myself?’ But I’m afraid that this time, the problem might just be beyond my abilities.”
“I’m not who you think I am,” Nym said.
“Yes, clearly something has happened to you. That, or you’re playing at a game I can’t even begin to guess the purpose of.”
Nym’s mind went into overdrive. The archmage clearly knew he was an ascendant, and perhaps even knew his past self’s true identity. He felt some sort of affection for Exarch Niramyn, perhaps enough to help Nym now. There had to be a way to use that. Having such a powerful connection could ease his rise through the third layer and help him reach the fifth. If there was anyone who could show him the way, it was an archmage.
It was time for some creative truth telling. “Let’s say that I decide to help,” Nym said. “But let’s say that I can only help you as I appear to be, a young human mage with a decent grounding in second circle magic. What would you want me to do?”
“Second circle?” Archmage Veran raised an eyebrow and looked at Nym. “I’m sure you must mean third. I’m not blind.”
“My mistake,” Nym said. “Of course I meant third.”
“If we’re maintaining the fiction, then I suppose I would pass off the spell I am holding to you. You’re more than strong enough to maintain it, and it is only third circle magic, after all. Then I would start working on a more permanent solution to all of this.”
“If one mage with a third circle spell can hold this closed, why did they need so many?” Nym asked.
“It took fifth circle magic to pull the tear closed by myself,” the archmage explained. “I am only using an admittedly complicated third circle spell to keep it from opening back up. It will hold for a few hours longer if I maintain it, but eventually I’ll grow too weak to do so.”
“And as payment for this, I would want something appropriate for this form.”
“What would that be?” Archmage Veran asked.
“I need to learn how to make a conduit to the fifth layer.”
The old man barked out a laugh. “You want me to teach you what you taught me? Very well. It’s a small enough favor in return for your help.”
Nym worked hard to keep his expression smooth. This whole debacle could actually play out in his favor after all. He just needed to hold a spell construct steady for a few hours while an archmage cleaned up the mess below. Granted, it would be a bit more complicated in practice, but he was confident he was getting the better end of the deal.
“Explain to me what you want me to do,” Nym said.
“There are two spells at work right now. The first is a, and forgive the term, pinnacle spell, that is reaching into the tear and subjugating the reaper trapped on the other side. Without it putting pressure on the Veil to tear it open further, much of the strain of holding the tear closed disappears. It’s an expensive spell though, very complex and using a lot of irreplaceable tools that I’ve burned up in the process. It will hold on its own for perhaps another six hours.
“The second spell is a variation on the ritual spell planar lock that group of third circle mages was using. It’s designed to keep anything else from passing through the tear, but needs to have arcana channeled into it constantly. It’s easier to maintain as long as the pinnacle spell is still running, so you should be able to handle it yourself. As soon as the reaper is free again, we’ll lose the spell and the tear will split open again.
“You’ll keep channeling arcana into the ritual planar lock while I work on cleaning up the influx of undead. Once everything is stabilized, the army can get back in here and resume locking everything down.”
Nym looked down at the forest below them. Everything was blurry, like looking through a window that had been coated in grease. Even with that, he could still see a stone mausoleum with a roof overgrown with moss and lichen. The grounds around it were a muddy, churned up mess from the sheer number of undead that had passed through. Wispy, fog-like tendrils hung in the air around the whole thing, shifting unnaturally in various directions and completely ignoring the breeze that moved the trees.
When he concentrated on what he was seeing, Nym could almost make out the tear in the Veil inside the building, if only because of the aura of Archmage Veran’s arcana surrounding it. “How do I take over powering this spell for you?”
“It will be delicate, but I’ll manage that. This spell is technically a ritual spell designed to be powered by multiple mages. The number of people who could do so single-handedly is… low, but I don’t think that will be an issue for you. I’ll integrate you into the active ritual and then shift powering the components of it to you, one at a time.”
They set to work. Nym started drawing in third layer arcana with Archmage Veran’s guidance, and found it much easier to manipulate when using a series of filters he implemented into the conduit at the archmage’s suggestion. It slowed the arcana coming in and helped break it off from the Astral Sea, which made it much more manageable without having to close the conduit completely.
Once they were sure he could manage the needed arcana flow, Nym was pulled into the ritual so that he could sync his arcana up to Archmage Veran’s. Then, one at a time, he was slowly handed off the various pieces of the construct. It was rather like playing a game of cat’s cradle, where he was instructed to hold or pinch various pieces of the structure while his partner manipulated other pieces.
In the end, he had the entire thing supported in his arcana and Archmage Veran disengaged completely from the ritual. With each step back the old man took, it became harder and harder to maintain, so they went slowly. All told, they took over an hour to transfer the planar lock spell to Nym’s control.
The spell was so ridiculously complicated that Nym couldn’t even begin to unravel how it worked, but he didn’t need to. He just needed to hold it in shape and feed it arcana. That was a considerable strain, but not so much that he was in danger of losing it any time soon.
“How long do you think you can hold it?” Archmage Veran asked.
“Maybe an hour. Two perhaps?” Nym said.
“Truly? That is… considerably less than I was expecting. I had best get to work then. Do not move from this spot. The camouflage screen below us is the only thing keeping the wights from realizing we’re here and attacking.”
And then Nym was abruptly alone in the air. Archmage Veran’s teleport spell was so smooth and so fast that there was barely even a flash of arcana around the man before he disappeared. Nym looked around, trying to spot him below and expecting to see some extremely powerful magic tearing through undead like they were nothing.
Instead, it was just him, sitting in the air, by himself, holding onto a spell and hoping he didn’t mess something up. Minutes went by. Undead roamed around on the ground, doing whatever undead things they liked to do when they weren’t busy hunting and eating the living. Nym was starting to wonder if this was some sort of joke where they just wanted to see how long he’d stay there, holding the spell and looking stupid, while they scried on him and laughed.
Then a column of fire exploded into the air about three miles away. It easily cleared the tree tops before expanding in every direction, and it was so loud that Nym could actually feel it. The spell he was maintaining started to slip from his inattention, and Nym clutched desperately at it to keep its shape. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far off from how he was supposed to be holding it and it wasn’t difficult to fix it back up.
Another column rocked the forest a mile north of the first one. Nym grit his teeth and held tightly to his own spell construct as the shockwave washed over him. “And to think I wanted that excitement right below me,” he said. “That was a stupid idea.”
