Spellshift (Spellsaga Book 2)

  To Brandon,

  You believed in me before you had any reason to. Your wit and wisdom paved roads to new worlds. And your edits bludgeoned my hopes and dreams into submission, knowing I’d come back stronger than before and throw you into the sun.

  So, uh, your move, friend.

  Chapter 1

  Garen stood still. Twelve sets of eyes surveyed without seeing. Three crossbowmen actively watched the expansive workroom. They wandered less than those Garen had slipped past outside. Their stillness made the illusion simpler. Five other men and women wore no armor or weapons, but they shifted back and forth between long stone tables. They mixed gritty powders and dark liquids, stirring them within large metal bowls. Given their preoccupation, Garen’s artistry of light was wasted on them, but he wove it just the same.

  A worker poured his bowl of gray sludge into one of the many red-iron pods that dotted the room. Garen tried counting them, but the strain on his senses was too high. Micah would have to be content with a guess of fifty. The last four workers paced between the pods, only stopping to look into the small glass windows on the front. One placed his hands against it. A purple light pulsed within. The color told Garen geonodes were in use. These stones could store spells for later use, even by those without depth of their own.

  The light revealed a half-formed creature inside. Its eyes were closed and sunken in. Its nose was flat. This one’s lips hadn’t even formed. Garen shivered and turned his attention away from the growth chambers and back to the open eyes in the room.

  He stepped softly through the quiet workshop. Twelve sets of eyes and not a single one of them could point out the six-foot-tall, eighteen-year-old Spellsword passing between them. A worker exited down a hall. Eleven sets. A door opened. Fourteen.

  The challenge was exhilarating. He bent light around himself in a hundred different ways, each tailored to a potential onlooker. If he misjudged slightly, the tables behind him might seem blurry or misaligned. Garen had chosen a black tunic and trousers under his leather jerkin to minimize those mistakes. To the casual observer, he was invisible.

  Unfortunately, this degree of light manipulation didn’t leave Garen much presence of mind to glance around for himself. He could stand in the center of this room all day and still have no clue what they were doing here.

  Well, that much he knew. They were growing living creatures.

  A full season had passed since he discovered the facility. It happened by accident while thinking of the Earth Rogue’s family. His tendency to end up in another part of the kingdoms was still a mystery to him.

  He’d managed to escape the building as he’d infiltrated it now, using light and his own two feet. He’d even freed the fallen Earth Rogue’s wife and daughter, then convinced them to travel back to Vikar-Tola with him. The escape itself was easy. The facility had been almost deserted that evening. But in all their scouting since, the security kept growing. Micah finally decided to trust his Spellswords’ abilities rather than wait any longer. It was mid-fall already, and they needed to see what the Western Kingdom was guarding so intently.

  “You idiot!” a worker shouted at another. It made him aware how eerily silent the workshop had been. Garen carefully stepped back across the room to listen. “You’ll be lucky if these Apatten aren’t ruined.” The words confirmed for Garen about the only thing he already knew. The creatures bore a human resemblance but a different name—Apatten.

  The shouting man wore much finer robes than the woman he loomed over. She cowered, eyes fixed on the floor. “You understand your carelessness cost us more depth than your life is worth?”

  She shook with a panicking nod, but made no sound.

  “Do you?” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to meet his glare. Garen wanted to bloody this man’s face from the moment he spoke to her that way. He stayed hidden, though. Intervening would be the dumbest thing he’d done all day.

  Then again, the evening was young. He might top it yet.

  The man pulled his hand back to strike her face. Before he brought his arm down, a sound startled him. A metal bowl rang out as it clanged against the stone floor, bouncing twice more before it rattled into silence. The soupy gray mixture covered everything around it.

  Every head in the room turned. Garen slid under a table beside them, frantically trying to determine whose eyes he needed to fool. He heard no additional cries of alarm, nor the sound of anyone being struck.

  “You can clean this while Aethis decides how to fix your idiocy.” The man stormed away from her. Garen carefully moved around the mess to follow. The last thing he needed was dirty footprints to give him away. He slipped behind the man as he opened a heavy stone door. Those were another important obstacle. It didn’t matter whether people could see Garen or not. No one reacts calmly to doors moving on their own.

  Garen breathed a silent sigh of relief. He could finally stop crafting light into a dozen other eyes and focus on his own. He hadn’t been able to see further than his own sight since he got inside. Now, he was free to use another aspect of his gifts. Instead of worrying about what others saw, he could guide light from further away, even around corners, into his own eyes. There were other rooms, but none even a tenth the size of the one he’d left. The first two were dark and empty. Garen followed quietly behind his temporary guide. He hoped a conversation with this Aethis would be more informative than scanning barren halls.

  They passed several closed doors. The magic that carved the stone was too precise to let him peek through. Micah spent the last season pressuring him to practice that skill. They all had their parts to play in examining the Western Kingdom’s threat, and Garen had the role of a scout. So, he practiced shaping light to appear invisible. He practiced pulling light from every direction to survey his surroundings. But pulling the full image of a room through a keyhole sized opening worked about as well as pressing his face against it.

  Thankfully, he had other directions to explore. One of those doors opened right beside Garen. It gave him a single second to bend the light around him and tailor it to the young man emerging. There was no point. The courier darted down the hall without a glance. The door stayed open for the moment, giving Garen a glimpse at some of their inner workings.

  This room was filled with Apatten, but none of the red-iron pods. The faces he had seen inside the growth chambers were fully formed. They sat on the ground staring wide-eyed at an elderly man barking instructions. The Apatten seemed human in shape, but the details were all wrong. The irises of their eyes were purple, a hue so vivid they practically glowed. Their skin was an unnatural, ashen gray, the same color of sludge he’d seen poured into their pods. One of the Apatten picked at its arm, and the old man slapped its hand away. The creature glared up at him.

  The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, and Garen turned to see a man leading four of the creatures. They were still dripping with the fluid from their pods. They wore large sack-cloths over unnaturally long torsos. Their arms jutted out at sharp angles and matched their awkward height. The gangly messes tried to grab hold of each other as they shuffled down the hall. Their caretaker cursed loudly as he pulled them apart.

  The unpredictable movements made it harder for Garen to cloak himself, but he wasn’t sure these seven-foot infant creatures could communicate what they saw anyway. The thought made him wonder exactly what the Apatten were capable of. If walking was this much of a problem, fighting seemed out of the question. He moved closer.

  The group ambled toward him using the full width of the hallway. Garen pressed his back against the wall, but the nearest Apatten staggered his direction. It tripped over the invisible person in its way. The creature let out a snarl as i
t fell on its chin, not even using its hands to cushion the blow. It flailed and pointed directly where Garen had stood. Garen slid down the wall and kept the light bent around him.

  “Quit yer screaming! And don’t blame a wall because you can’t operate your own goffing limbs yet.”

  Their bodies were grotesque, but Garen had to stifle a laugh at their lack of coordination. This was the unknown threat from the Western Kingdom they’d spent week after week fearing. These creatures would take an absurd amount of time to educate, let alone train to fight. Surely the Western Kingdom could recruit soldiers more easily than going through this. Garen looked forward to explaining to the others that whatever Sarkos had in store, it was a failed experiment. These were just big, frail abominations.

  The man he’d been following stopped at a doorway ahead. He didn’t speak or knock. Garen crept closer and saw what kept him from entering. The trunk of a massive tree filled the door frame. The rubble of the shattered floor lay in pieces around it. The man fidgeted with his hands, nervous for the first time Garen had seen.

  “You still can’t reject it, can you, Hadrian?” The voice was female, and though the words formed a question, she spoke it as fact.

  “No, it’s too real,” he responded. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

  “An oak sprouted from stone? That’s too real for you?” The woman laughed. Her voice echoed from deep within the room. “Would you recognize the absurdity more easily like this?”

  A shimmer spread across the tree. The surface turned to gold. Hadrian took a breath and placed both hands against it. He leaned into it, and Garen knew it was more than an illusion. Cracks formed along the surface. The grooves deepened and splintered through the golden trunk. As the gaps widened, they left no debris in their place, only darkness. Soon there was more void than gold remaining, and eventually nothing at all.

  “Good. Come in.”

  Hadrian took a shallow step into the unlit room. Garen had to move closer to see. A woman sat on the floor with her back facing them.

  “I assume you’re bringing me sour news, as always,” she said, not actually seeming worried.

  “Master Aethis, I would not disturb you unless it was necessary.”

  She laughed, unsettling Hadrian even more. He continued despite it. “One of our indentureds poured twice the raw into her pods. Is there a way to salvage the Apatten?”

  Aethis paused to think but still faced away from him. “No, we tried experimenting with size when we started. The larger we make them, the more likely their hearts will burst. At one time I’d hoped to remove their human resemblance entirely, but when you try to fight nature, you quickly learn why it prevailed.”

  “I see. I will attend to their disposal.” He turned to walk away and stopped. “There is the matter of how much depth she wasted.”

  Aethis waved the concern away. “Don’t worry about depth. Sarkos is adapting to his new spirit quickly. I’d say better than its last host. We’ll have geonodes stored with enough creation depth to swim in by the next time he visits.”

  “That is…very well. But the girl—”

  Aethis stood, her back still facing him. The laugher in her voice was gone. “Has she done so poor a job that you would like to take her place?”

  “No, Master.”

  “Then I request you return to doing your job so that she may continue to do hers. If she is dull enough to make the same mistake twice, you may discipline her as you itch so disgustingly to do. That choice is yours.”

  Hadrian had no words, only a hasty bow before marching back down the hall. Meanwhile, Aethis stood in place, stretching her arms and popping her shoulder. Garen had enough light from the hall to get a vague impression. The sleeveless purple robe draped loosely over her frame. The fabric almost covered her bare feet. She had dark, curly hair that hung past her shoulders. She turned and stepped toward the door. Garen saw glimmers along her arms as she moved, but the flicker made no sense until she stepped into the light.

  Her skin was richly bronzed. Small streaks along her shoulder and neck seemed downright metallic. He tried not to let his curiosity distract him while bending the light to fool her. She glanced up the hallway at Hadrian’s retreat, looking straight through Garen.

  She turned away with a sigh and walked in the opposite direction. As Garen followed, he watched the insignia on her robe sway. The design was simple. A black arrowhead was centered within a white diamond. He’d noticed it among some of the finer robes in the previous room. It even brought to mind a similar shaped tattoo he encountered while living in the mountains. It was the marking of the Sanstric clan, and all he knew about them was their willingness to work for Pyralis and the Western Kingdom. If these people were Sanstric as well, they sure had a more elegant way of displaying it.

  The longer he stared, the more the flow of her fabric stole his attention. The rhythm of her steps drew his eyes to her hips. The further they walked, the more it felt like she was leading him. Garen dismissed the thought and the embarrassment. The sensation was simply unavoidable when following an attractive woman.

  As she passed under geonode lamps, Garen had a better glimpse at the metallic strips along her shoulders and neck. The texture was smooth and glossy like polished gold. The glistening lines blended seamlessly into the rest of her skin.

  The hallway ended at an iron gate. Aethis placed her hand over a geonode poking out of the wall until it glowed green. Garen couldn’t see past the dark drop-off into the cavern below, but he had a guess what device was in use. The palace at Vikar-Tola had installed their share of the modern luxury called a “lifter.” The floor was built like a levitrans, but instead of six geonodes that let it travel in any direction, it had four, one at each corner. They all had the same job of pushing the platform up, but a control geonode would determine whether that meant actually raising it or letting it fall at a less-than-terrifying rate. As the platform arrived, the gate lowered and she stepped out. Garen’s stomach tightened at the thought of standing on a sheet of metal suspended by magic he couldn’t control. He decided it was worth the risk.

  The platform stayed balanced as he stepped on, easing a couple fears. It was much larger than the ones at the palace, and likely built to hold quite a few more bodies. Garen leaned his back against the chest-high railing as the lifter took them downward. They descended along the edge of the cave, which slowly revealed itself to them. The cavern ceiling had an unnatural glow and stretched as deep as it was wide. The faint lights below were too far away to discern anything.

  Lighting along the rails made it easier to focus on Aethis. He could see the dense curls of her hair. Strips of gold still shimmered against her bronze complexion. One of the lines on her shoulder swayed, though Aethis seemed to be standing still. Two of the lines crawled their way across her skin and swirled, dancing together.

  Aethis cleared her throat. “I think you’ll be quite impressed with what we’ve accomplished. Sarkos was skeptical at first, but sometimes you have to put in the work before you’re given the respect you deserve. You know the feeling?”

  Garen’s heart pounded. Who was she talking to? Did she have a relay geonode like his?

  “Don’t be shy. I want to know if you understand what it’s like to be unappreciated. To choose between ease and importance. From everything I’ve heard of you, it seems like you’ve just played along with the family business of murder. No choice at all.”

  Garen spun around, trying to imagine anyone else she could be talking to. He felt the light bend around him perfectly. Suddenly, the beams straightened and his magic came undone. She turned to face him. Her hazel eyes sized him up. She was more relaxed than should have been possible, even as she eyed Garen’s hand on his katana.

  “Indecision is a choice. You can stand there all day waiting for me to do something, but you’ve already given up so many moments that would see me dead.”

  Garen stopped trying to re-conjure the light that would hide him. The effort seemed futile at this p
oint. “Who are you?” Garen asked.

  She scrunched her face in disappointment. “In this situation, right here, you are choosing to ask questions and to trust my responses? Sarkos thinks too highly of you.” She punctuated the sentence with a burst of wind to his chest. Garen slid back to the edge of the platform and gritted his teeth. He let himself take two deep breaths before responding.

  “And what does Sarkos think of you?” Garen asked.

  “Ha! You’ve mistaken me for that kite of a man, Pyralis. I couldn’t care less what Sarkos thinks of me. You’re the one who cares about that sort of thing. That’s why I said it. Now, what are you going to do when the lifter reaches the cave floor? Stand here and ask more questions we both know I won’t answer?”

  “You sure you wouldn’t like the first move?”

  “I’ve already made mine. It’s been yours since you saw me step into the hall.”

  Garen hadn’t planned to resort to violence on a scouting mission. He hadn’t planned on meeting a mad-woman, either. She was practically inviting him to use his sword to make her talk. Garen smiled and nodded. He could get the answers Micah wanted this way, too.

  Garen led with a thin wave of flame to put her off guard. While she braced for that, he drew his father’s katana and rushed in. The flames parted around her. She leapt back from him, her hands still empty and no sign of a weapon on her. The lifter bobbed and swayed. Garen tried to threaten with a series of lunges. She moved gracefully around the wobbling platform while Garen struggled to keep his balance with each step.

  Clumsy as he felt, Garen kept her backpedaling until she reached a corner. Garen extended his katana toward her neck with as much threat as he could muster. Truthfully, he was more disoriented than angry.

  “You have your hand out,” Aethis said with a confident smirk. “Are you offering me something? Your sword, maybe?”

  “I’m offering a chance to tell me what you’re doing here. And if you want to part ways peacefully, you’ll tell me why you’re not a threat to the world.”