EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (115 page)

“I will see you in a few hours.” Leaning down, he gave her a brief, hard kiss and walked off, heading toward his soldiers.

Augusta watched his powerful figure for a couple of minutes before climbing onto her chaise. Pulling out her Interpreter Stone, she loaded in a pre-made concealment spell, so that no one on the battlefield would be able to see her or her chaise. Once that was done, she pulled out another spell, a more complicated one this time. It was a way for her to temporarily boost her senses, enabling her to see and hear everything with as much clarity as possible. She’d used it several times before; in the Tower of Sorcery, it paid to hear every whisper.

A quick verbal spell, and she was flying, her chaise far more comfortable than the carpets and dragons of old fairy tales. Rising high above the hill, she saw Barson’s men heading over to their chosen battleground and the narrow road stretching into the far distance. With her enhanced sight, Augusta could see much better than usual, and she marveled at the beauty of this northern part of the land, with its tall sturdy trees and rich dark soil. Even the devastation from the drought was not enough to diminish the beauty of the local forests.
 

Augusta had never visited this area before, generally splitting her time between Turingrad and her own territory in the southern region. The city was the biggest on Koldun, and it was the epicenter of art, culture, and commerce. In contrast to the peasant-occupied surrounding territories, the majority of Turingrad was populated by sorcerers, members of the Guard, and some particularly prosperous merchants.

Directing her chaise to turn north, Augusta peered at the dark mass in the distance. It was so far away that even with her improved vision, she couldn’t tell what it was. Curious, she flew toward it.

And when she got close enough to see, she could hardly believe her eyes.
 

Instead of three hundred men, as Ganir’s spies had said, there were at least a couple of thousand.

A couple of thousand peasants . . . versus fifty of Barson’s soldiers.

Her heart racing, Augusta stared at the approaching horde. She had never seen such a large gathering of commoners in her life.
 

They were marching up the dirt road, their lean faces hard with anger and their dirty bodies covered with ragged woolen clothes. In addition to the usual pitchforks, many of them were carrying weapons; she saw maces, clubs, and even a few swords. They were still far from Turingrad, but the very fact that they dared to go toward the capital with such numbers was disturbing on many levels. As someone who had grown up with stories of the Revolution, Augusta knew full well what could happen when peasants thought that they deserved better—that they had the right to take what wasn’t given to them.

She had to warn Barson.

Flying back toward the hill, Augusta jumped off the chaise as soon as it landed and ran toward Barson, quickly telling him what she saw. As she spoke, his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed with anger.
 

“You’re turning back, right?” she asked, although it was clearly a rhetorical question.

“No, of course not.” He stared at her like she had grown two heads. “This changes nothing. We need to contain this rebellion, and we need to do it here, before they get any closer to Turingrad.”

“But they outnumber you by an impossible margin—”

Her lover nodded grimly. “Yes, they do.” The expression on his face was storm-black, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he truly suicidal enough to attempt to go up against all those peasants? She admired his dedication to duty, but this was something else entirely.
 

Fighting to remain calm, Augusta tried to think of a solution that would contain the rebels and prevent Barson from getting killed. “Look,” she finally said in frustration, “if you’re determined to do this, then maybe I can help somehow.”

Barson studied her, his gaze dark and inscrutable. “Help us how? Using sorcery?”
 

“Yes.” Sorcerers rarely did this sort of thing, but she couldn’t let Barson and his soldiers perish in a battle with some peasants.

To her relief, he looked intrigued. “Well,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps there is something you can do . . . Do you think you can teleport all of us to them, and then teleport us back at an agreed-upon time?”

Augusta considered his request. Teleportation was not an easy spell. It required very precise calculations, as even the smallest error could be deadly. Teleporting many people at once was an even greater challenge. Still, she should be able to do it, since it was only for a short distance and she would be able to see their destination, thus visually confirming that everything was clear. “Yes, I could do it,” she said decisively. “How would that help?”

Barson smiled. “Here is what I have in mind.” And he began telling her his insane plan.

Chapter X

Gala

B
ACK
IN
B
LAISE
’
S
STUDY
, G
ALA
examined the Life Capture Sphere. It looked like a large round diamond, and the rest of the room was reflected in it, as though in a mirror. Gala was mesmerized by the elegant mathematics that warped the image of the laboratory, with its arcane bottles and instruments. There was only a single flaw in the spherical shape—an opening with a couple of clear beads inside it.
 

“Those are the Life Capture droplets,” Blaise explained, walking up to it. ”They are the physical shape Life Captures take when entering this world.”

Taking one of the beads, he put it in her hand. When their hands touched lightly, Gala felt a pleasantly warm sensation in her body—the same strange feeling she experienced every time she was near Blaise. She would have to touch him more when an opportune moment arose, Gala decided, liking the way her body seemed to react to him.
 

“These appear when the cycle of recording is compete,” he said. “To start the cycle, I touched the Sphere with the blood from my finger, and to stop it, I did it again. See that needle there? That’s what I used to prick my finger. Droplets show up shortly after.”

Gala pricked her finger. The sensation she felt now was most unpleasant. It was pain, she realized. The red substance—blood—started slowly oozing out of the small opening in her finger. She knew that pain was something humans avoided, and she could now understand why.
 

Reaching out with her bloody finger, she touched the Sphere, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she touched it again, wondering what she was doing wrong.
 

“It’s not working for you, is it?” Blaise asked, watching her efforts. “That’s not surprising.”
 

“Because I am not human?”
 

He nodded. “Yes. With time, I suspect you’ll be able to create your own droplets or do anything else you wished without the use of the Sphere.”

Gala examined herself and saw no evidence to support what he said. If she could create these Life Capture droplets, she did not know how. In the meantime, her pricked finger had already healed.
 

“Why did Ganir tie pain to this?” she asked.

“I think he wanted a small cost to be associated with this part. Also, it must help functionally with the spell. I suspect something small enters the body through the wound, going to the brain and capturing something important there. When you touch the Sphere again, it leaves your body. Ganir is very secretive about this process, but that’s how my brother explained it to me. He was hypothesizing, of course, since only Ganir understands his invention fully.”

Gala focused on her body, wanting to try again. She pricked her other finger. The pain was much less unpleasant this time, since she knew what to expect. When she touched the Sphere, now that she knew what to look for, she actually felt something extremely small entering her flesh through her blood. She could also feel how her body immediately attacked the tiny invaders, preventing them from going further in her bloodstream. And her finger healed again, as quickly as before.

“Why don’t you try just taking one of the droplets?” Blaise said. “Put it under your tongue and see what happens.”

Gala did as he said, and felt like she was being invaded again. It was as though something wanted to take over her brain. This time, she tried to get her body to allow this invasion, but it still didn’t work. Sighing, she looked at Blaise and shook her head. “I didn’t succeed, but I would like to try again,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry if I’m wasting your precious droplets—”

“It’s quite all right. These ones I made myself in order to document the completion of my spell. It doesn’t matter if you use them up—I can still recall that time quite clearly and write it all up in my journal, if necessary.” He smiled at her reassuringly.
 

Gala smiled back at him. Knowing that these were Blaise’s Life Captures—that they would allow her to view the world through his eyes—was a very powerful incentive. Closing her eyes, she willed her body not to fight the invasion and focused on letting the substance of the droplets travel through her veins. Suddenly, something within her yielded, and she felt the stuff go up to her head and then into her brain. To her annoyance, however, what worked for the human mind didn’t seem to work for hers. She felt some hint of foreign emotions, but no visions of any kind.
 

Frustrated, she opened her eyes. “It failed again, but I think I am close,” she told Blaise. “Do you have any less valuable Life Captures?”

“Sure. They’re in storage,” he said, walking out of his study. Gala followed him, and they went into one of the rooms she remembered seeing on her earlier tour of Blaise’s house. Every wall of that room seemed to be covered with wooden furniture—furniture that seemed to consist of dozens of little doors. Cabinets, Gala realized. These were cabinets—miniature closets used for storage purposes.

Bending down, Blaise opened one of the cabinet doors and took out a jar with a few droplets in it. “These are Life Captures of my less important work,” he explained, handing her one of the clear beads. “You should feel free to use up as many of these as you want. I document anything particularly important in writing.” He waved toward another set of doors, indicating where he kept his written legacy.

Taking one droplet from his hand, Gala put it under her tongue. With all her being, she willed the ability to see what was contained in the Life Capture. She thought of her time back in the Spell Realm and how she was able to get visions. Then she tapped into the part of her mind that was able to do this before. After what felt like hours of concentration, she felt something finally giving and a vision coming on . . .

Blaise was sitting in his study writing code. At times like these, he didn’t mind his self-imposed solitude. Preparing spells required concentration, and distractions could result in significant setbacks. Thankfully, Maya and Esther knew better than to approach his study while he was working. They would simply come, drop off the Life Captures he needed, and quietly leave if he was busy.
 

He enjoyed coding because it was so exact, so precise. The sorcery code did what you asked it to do. As long as you wrote out the logic of the spell properly, then it was a simple dynamic of ‘if variable A is set to such and such value, action B happens.’ There was something reassuring about it. A certainty in an uncertain world. His mind liked the predictability of it all. He frequently re-used certain patterns, and they produced the same outcome each time.
 

The spell he was working on now was different, much more challenging than usual. It was based on the work of Lenard the Great himself, and Blaise didn’t fully understand all of its components—and thus couldn’t predict the results. All he knew was that it was his gateway to the Spell Realm—and that it should enable him to send his Life Captures there, shaping the intelligent object he was creating.
 

Stopping for a second, Blaise wrote down a few things in his journal.