The Abjurer: Chapter 16-17

I told myself that it was the last time I’d need to do it for a long time, and I hoped I was right.

“Flatten the bronze out as thin as you can make it,” I commanded Lyn and Sarai’s uncle, “then inscribe this series of glyphs on it.”

I placed down the sheet of paper containing the spell that would anchor the universal anchor to the series of inductors and capacitors. Each rune was as small as I could make it – I wasn’t good enough to need a magnifying glass to read them, like rowan, but they were all only a few centimeters across.

As the pair of metal mages followed my commands, I flowed my diminished Aura into the forming runes, pushing them with my rune compression arch-star until they snapped into proper place.

“Excellent,” I said. “Now, form the bronze back into a sword. You can shift the runes locations, but don’t alter any of the runes themselves, or break the connecting lines.”

“Do you know how hard that is?” Lyn demanded.

“Eh, not to bad,” Sarai’s uncle said. “It’s actually not an uncommon request in my profession.”

“But a shaping spell…”

“Nah, you use this,” he said, lighting his Aura and shaping it into a spell. While Lyn familiarized herself with the spell, I walked through the array one more time, looking over it with fresh eyes to make sure that everything was in order.

I paused on the whispering word amulet. It was autumnal magic, not change magic, which may alter the way it interacted with the spell, but change magic was a part of autumn.

Still…

I drew a few extra lines to reinforce that I was only slicing off the largest part of the amulet’s powers.

Better safe than sorry. I’d already lost one of my artifacts by using it as a component, I wasn’t keen on doing it again.

“Done,” Lyn called out. I turned to look at the sword. It was bland and imperfect, but they’d be channeling the reinforcing spells to push it to the absolute physical limit during the casting, in order to help them set into the enchantment better.

“Alright,” I said. “Work in that silvery metal now, please. In the word that I wrote on the tag.”

They did, slowly layering in bands of silver, so they connected to the lines of power without breaking them until the blade of the sword read ‘Diofryd’ on both sides.

I drew in a deep breath.

“Hold the sword steady, make it pretty, don’t break the spell, and push it to the limit. I’m about to begin.”

Osheen rose from the corner of the room, where he’d been seated, and gave me a quick hug.

“You can do it,” he said encouragingly.

I flashed him a brief smile, and then began the chant.

Even saying the word to activate the first rune felt like I was speaking through a mouth full of mud – part of that was the strange sounds of Old Bradlewyr, but part of it was the magic’s resistance to moving in such a vast quantity.

Each word took me nearly a full minute to pronounce, but each one took slightly less time. An hour into the chant, and the words were beginning to flow more smoothly, more conversationally. I was reaching out to magic, asking it to create an object of power, and magic was listening.

An hour after that, and I was speaking frantically, running at the border of my ability to enunciate clearly. The magic had listened, but I was no longer asking it. It was pulling me along, forcing me to move to the beat of it’s drum.

But the chant continued, my walk around the circle a frantic danse. In my third eye, the Aura in the room was going crazy, draining as much as it could. I’d put some limitations on the drain, so it wouldn’t cause a massive strain until the spell was fully active, but I could already feel the rush of Aura straining at my ghost plate, begging it to trigger.

And still the frenetic chanting and movement continued.

Green light washed the room in emerald shades, followed by silver light, and then a black light that seemed to be full of a nothingness that went beyond simple emptiness. There were specks of other color too, born from the elemental components of stone and metal, the plants of the fae, and Cré’s own components, but compared to the vast wash of green, silver, and black, they were only the smallest flecks of gold in a vast riverbed.

The light began to suffuse into the sword, and it began to shine softly. It emitted a humming noise, shifting, and Sarai’s uncle let out a gasp as his Aura drained itself empty, burnt out on the reinforcement spell. Osheen helped the man up, and took him out of the room.

Lyn lasted for nearly two more minutes, her superior power and skill keeping her aloft, but she cut herself off the spell.

“I’m out of here,” she said. “I’ve hit my limit.”

“It’s time for me to go too,” Osheen said. “I don’t have ghost plate.”

I wasn’t able to say anything, so I nodded and I closed my eyes and whirled around to face the next part of the spell, continuing my chant.

It would have to be enough.

My voice began to grow louder as I chanted, until it was thundering against the walls, and the light of the sword grew brighter too, until I had to keep one hand over my eyes to shield them.

My voice and the light reached a crescendo on the very last word: the same one that had been inlaid into the blade, the same one that had appeared a thousand times in the spell, maybe more.

“Diofryd!” I shouted.

The world exploded. Aura rushed in, no longer constrained by the limits I’d initially placed, and the ghost plate formed around me to protect against it.

The light died in an instant, turning into a deep blackness that was just as murky, and I called out.

Walking towards the door and stairwell was a strange experience. The only light left in the room was shed by the faintly glowing ghost plate. I couldn’t see far with it – there was barely enough to light my next step.

But I made step after step, out of the room, up the stairs, until I moved past the wards at the top that contained the draining effect.

Osheen was there, along with the passed-out body of Sarai’s uncle.

The burden on the ghost plate eased, and I found myself swamped by a hug from Osheen.

“You did it!” he said.

I smiled at him and hugged him back.

“I’ve no idea how long it will take to charge, but given how much power it’s drinking in, I can only hope it’ll be done before the party.”

“I’m sure it will be,” he said.

The next few days before the party were shockingly relaxing. Classes had ended for the semester, and apart from a handful of rituals to fill my spell bottles and attach some force spell burners to a few strips of cloth, I didn’t need to do much enchanting. But none of those spells were new, or needed any serious effort on my part. I was long since familiar with them, so they were quick enough to knock out.

Instead of anything serious, I took the time to hang out with Osheen. The festival in Hallowbrooke would be missed, due to us being at the Fae party, but we still ate out a few times. One place in particular was tasty, serving a warm cider that had a relaxation potion mixed into it, along with crispy cheese, tomato, and mushroom flatbread.

Osheen didn’t like the mushrooms, and so he got sausage on his, but I thought they were good. They were a kind I’d never had before, a rich chestnut colour, with a faintly nutty taste.

But the brief respite came to an end sooner than either of us would have liked. On the fourth day, the day before the invitation would bring us into the Fae Sovereignties, the sword was complete.

Osheen squeezed my hand gently as we walked down the stairs, and I was hardly able to breathe.

I pushed open the door to my workroom, and stared.

The sword had transformed. The bronze blade now shone with a mix of colors, patterns of rippling green, black, and silver. The silver word for abjuration had been turned into a gold that glowed faintly with a brown-red light, as if to pay homage to the aspects of fall that had helped create it.

It’s hilt, which had been a simple crossgaurd and wire grip, was now shaped to resemble Oracle in flight, with an image of a cloaked figure imprinted onto the pommel.

I reached out and picked up the blade.

Power rushed through me, reminding me of when I’d first touched my staff.

“You look like a proper enchanter now,” Osheen commented. “Your cloak, enchanted clothes, bracelets, strips of cloth around one arm, a sword, a staff, and knives… I like it.”

He gave me a flirtatious grin, and I flushed and shook my head.

“Hardly. I’ve combined tricks from a dozen other people way smarter than I am, I’m not really that original.”

He put a hand on my shoulder seriously.

“Don’t say things like that. Sure, you got the parts from others, but the way that you arranged them? That’s new, it’s impressive. Nobody’s arranged them that way before. So I think you should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” I said, wiping my eyes, which had misted a little bit.

Osheen hugged me tightly, though he could only due it on one side, given that my other hand was holding a sword.

“Don’t worry about it. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I just let you be down on yourself like that?

He let me go, then unclipped the scabbard – or was it a sheath – from his belt to offer to me.

I wasn’t a sword person, either metaphorically or literally, so I had no idea. I may have made a sword, but the part I’d been least invested in was the actual sword part.

“Are you sure you want me to carry this?” I asked, sheathing the blade.

“I’m sure,” Osheen said seriously. “Just until we’re presenting gifts to Medb, at least. There’s no point in you carrying around a sharp piece of metal while I have the scabbard.”

So… it probably was a scabbard then, unless Osheen also didn’t know. Maybe they were the same thing.

I slipped the blade in, and hung it on my belt, then headed back to the rooms to relax.

The next day, we woke early. Osheen took a long, hot shower to cram as much extra Aura into his arch-star as he could, and I laid out our equipment.

The strips of cloth with burners imprinted onto them came first. None of them were strong enough to be of much note, but it was better to have them than not.

After that came my staff. It wasn’t as strong as the abjuration sword, but it was still my first foray into real power, something that would be useful in battle.

My remaining paralysis knife was added. I wished I’d had the time to make a few more, but I’d just been so busy…

My Autumnal Fae artifact joined the pile. I didn’t know how useful the whispering wind function would be at a party of the Fae, but if I was ever going to be able to identify the second function, this would be the best place to do it.

Then I laid out my defensive array – cloak, necklace, bracelets, and more. The year before, I’d focused on layering each part of the spell onto a different item, but I’d simply inscribed most of the spell onto my cloak this year – sure, it made each part weaker on its own, but it did improve the synergy, and I needed power more than flexibility now.

I put a single spell bottle down, holding a weather resistance spell. I could have used the foci that I’d made in Wisteria’s class last year, but with my Aura even smaller than it was then, that wasn’t a real option.

Speaking of Wisteria…

I riffled through my components bag, and removed a single dose of conductivity potion.

Finally, I put out the sword and turned to gather Osheen’s gear.

I added a few of the strips of cloth, though he’d get even less use out of them than I would. Then I piled on the first serious abjuration attempt I’d made – the one that had let me figure out the growth array. It was only useful against the common force effects, but that was still better than nothing at all.

Then came the booster that I’d made him last year.

Two spell bottles, containing a copy of the modular ward that Zheren had provided and the future sight divination spell I used in battle.

The weather protection ring was added to his pile.

I frowned. The items on his side weren’t… bad. But they weren’t exactly on the same scope of the items that I’d made.

I resolved to make him something really good once we were back from the party.

After that, I laid out the suits that I’d made in our first year for us, since they were the nicest clothes we owned.

Osheen emerged, and I quickly took a shower as well, then kitted myself out.

By the time I was done, it was getting close to dawn…

I felt the clutch of nerves in my stomach. I wasn’t a druid. How stupid had I been to trade a favor for the Silver Queen? I wasn’t equipped for this…

“It’ll be okay,” Osheen said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was cut off by a surge of faerie power filling the room.

For one horrible moment, I was sure that we’d somehow offended Medb, and she’d struck us down before the party even began.

But, no. The power was familiar, laced through several of the items that I was wearing. Silver Power, the power of change.

The Silver Queen stepped out into the room and smiled.

“Hello, boys…”

~~~

At the Silver Queen’s words, Osheen fell into a stately bow, and I inclined my head and shoulders.

“Maestro of Enchantment, Lord of Flame,” she said, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Please rise.”

I looked up at her.

“I thought I was a Maestro of Defense?” I said. It was the first thing to come to mind, even though it was stupid and irrelevant.

“You expanded,” the Silver Queen said. She smiled then, and it looked almost affectionate. “Now, let us speak of business.”

“Please, madam,” Osheen said, bowing his head slightly again.

“As a reminder, there are three things that you must do. Firstly, my court must gain access to move through the wind-scoured prairie. Secondly, you must humiliate the Vernal Court’s primary representative. Finally, you must act as a skilled representative of me and the court.”

She held her hand out, and a knot of silver power appeared over her hand. It looked somewhat like the ligature knot, but many times more complex, and orders of magnitude more powerful.

“This is the gift from the Silver Court,” she said as it floated through the air to me. I reached out to take it, and it blended into my Aura. I felt… Strange. Wrong. It was not supposed to be a part of me, I was certain of that, and I could kick it out if I wanted.

I shuddered, glad I wasn’t going to have to hold onto it long.

“I do hope you each brought gifts of your own,” the Silver Queen said, her smile growing predatory. “After all, if you didn’t bring a suitable gift, you’d not be a very good emissary for my court…”

In response, I drew the bronze blade at my hip and held it in the air between us.

Suddenly, I felt… better. Not perfect, but less wrong. Beyond that, the pressure of the Silver Queen receded, pushed back by the power of the blade.

And when the Silver Queen’s eyes widened in surprise, perhaps even shock, I couldn’t help but smile.

“I trust that this is acceptable?” I asked.

The Silver Queen was quiet for a second before she nodded. I sheathed the blade and smiled.

“Well, if that’s all,” I said. “We should be going.”

“Yes, that is all,” she said. “But there’s one more thing.”

“I don’t do extras,” I said flatly. “We already concluded our deal. Anything extra puts you in my debt.”

“I am aware,” the Silver Queen said calmly. “You’re going to want to do this anyways. This isn’t for me, after all, it’s for the Ligature.”

“I’ll listen to what you have to say,” I said.

“The Ligature and I are well connected, as you know. But do you know where the limit of my power in your world is?”

“Presumably? Elderglass. But I don’t know.”

“Wrong,” the Silver Queen said. “My limit is this country, and some small parts of Zheren. And even then, it is not uncontested.”

“But the Ligature comes from Elderglass,” Osheen started to say.

“Where it exists as one of their six primary political parties,” she said. “I know just as well as you do that their Ligature Party comes from my progenitors.”

My mind whirled quickly. I didn’t know that, and the Silver Queen was probably using that as a backwards way of informing me.

Then what did she want me to figure out. She had split from the Autumnal Court…

Presumably, the Ligature Parties’ support came from them, but how was that relevant.

“Do you know what parts of your world the wind-scoured prairie connects?” the Silver Queen said.

“I did speak to a druid, and one of my friends is a druid,” I said.

“Yes, of course. You must have asked them, and so you know that they connect between a point in Elderglass and Zheren. Portal magic is powerful and expensive stuff, so it’s not as if one can march an army through easily, but someone could certainly ferry materials and smaller groups…”

Osheen’s eyes widened and he nodded.

“We understand. We’ll ensure that the court that you belong to has legal right to move through the plains.”

The Silver Queen’s smile was downright chilling.

“I’m glad to see you’ve found a companion with wit to match your own, Evander,” she said. “Well, then, I’m glad we understand one another. I shall take my leave – it’s about time for you to open your portal, after all.”

I bowed my head, and Osheen did as well, and she left. I turned to look at Osheen.

“What?” I asked.

“She’s going to rejoin the Autumnal Court,” he said. “She’s pulling off a trick. She can get passage through the prairie for comparatively cheap as an independent. But if we word the contract so that it’s not for the Silver Court, but for the Silver Queen’s Court, then she’ll have gotten access for the entire Autumnal Court, which means the Ligature can begin to offer Zheren, Paerús, and other northern nations much more direct support and help.”

My eyes widened.

“I see,” was all I was able to say.

We took a few moments to compose ourselves, then I reached into my pocket and withdrew the invitation.

The spell worked into the invitation was absurdly complex, the kind of thing that made my defenses look like… Well, perhaps not a burner, but at least a childish first foci attempt.

The power packed into it was also absurd. It was hard to gauge the rankings of power in general, especially when translating between Faerie and Human magic, but there was more than enough power to throw several lightning bolts around in it.

All that power and complexity turned to a single purpose – linking your location to a point in the Fae Sovereignties, no matter where you were, without needing any power of the user themselves, or any skill with portal magic.

I gripped the two ends of the card firmly, then tore it in half.

The magic exploded out of the card, and a shimmering blue and a tarnished black. I reached down and took Osheen’s hand in my own, then stepped through.

The world went white, and for another moment, I thought I was dead. It reminded me of when I’d nearly died, and when I’d formed my third arch-star, but… not quite the same. Osheen was there with me, and he looked around.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“As best I can tell? In between Life and What Comes Next… if anything does,” I said.

His eyes widened.

“How do you look so calm?”

“Oh, I’m not,” I said. “I’ve just been here before.”

Osheen’s grip on my hand tightened.

A moment later, a shimmering blue portal appeared at the edge of my vision. I turned and began to walk towards it.

It seemed incredibly far away, but we reached it in only a few steps. I squeezed his hand gently, then stepped through, pulling him along with me.

We emerged from the portal in what appeared to be an entry hall, and I felt a weight settle onto my shoulder. I looked to see Oracle. There was a certain solidity to him here, and I got the impression that this wasn’t just a vessel. This was his real form.

I smiled and scratched his head, then turned to look at the entry hall.

It was long, the walls made of ice, inlaid with a thousand faerie runes that interlocked into snowflake-like patterns up and down the hall. There was furniture, carved of ice and inlaid with gemstones, scattered along the hall, and at the end was a huge set of double doors.

A pair of… people… stood in front of the doors. One of them was at least fifteen feet tall, and bright blue. No, not blue. It was made of ice. I squinted and realized that the ice was slightly transparent. It had organs, made of different shades of ice, running throughout it.

But the bones?

Those were real, actual bones.

Opposite of the ice behemoth was a Fae who was beautiful, but just as unnerving, but in a different way.

They were incredibly androgynous, with smooth skin that was as pale of snow, hair that fell down to their waist, and was icy blue. Their eyes were a shimmering gray that seemed to stare into me, and the smile that was spread across their face made the Silver Queen look charitable. They had six shadows spreading out from behind them, and sharp teeth. It was like looking at the most beautiful Aster ever born, who was infused with more unseelie power than any Aster should be able to hold.

Osheen pulled me forwards, breaking me from my study of the pair.

“What should we announce you as?” the thing that was almost like an aster asked. It spoke the common tongue of Paerús.

“Evan, Maestro of Enchantment, Emissary of the Silver Queen,” I said, shifting to speak in the language of Old Bradlewyr.

“And your entourage?” they asked in Old Bradlewyr, their smile growing even broader, and creepier.

“Osheen, Lord of Fire,” Osheen said.

“Lord?” the ice behemoth rumbled. “You serve a Maestro.”

“He is not my servant,” I snapped. “He is my husband.”

“I see,” the aster-like being said. “Were you informed of the time dilation effect and the amenities?”

“We were not,” I said.

“Well, as guests, it is my obligation to inform you,” the aster said. “The party shall go on for thirteen days, but only one hundred and sixty-nine minutes shall pass in the mortal world. Seven days before the end of the party, you shall present your court’s gift to the Queen, and on the last day, you shall present your personal gifts to her.”

“I see,” Osheen said. “Than–”

He was cut off by me stepping on his foot. He let out a soft yelp and looked at me.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“You should never thank a fae,” I said. “It’s an admonition of debt.”

“Do not fear,” the ice behemoth said. “You are guests of the Queen, and we are servants of her. You may thank us for doing our job, and we are unable to take a price from you for it.”

“Thank you, then,” I said, looking at each of them in turn.

“Of course,” the behemoth said. “I would not shirk on my duties.”

I looked up at Osheen.

“Sorry I stepped on your foot.”

He let out a low laugh and shook his head.

“No need to apologize. You didn’t know, and I didn’t either. If the rules of guest hadn’t been so ingrained, I would have made a stupid slip up.”

“If you two are done,” the aster said, “may I continue?”

“Of course,” Osheen said.

“As guests, you are free to partake in food. You are free to visit any parts of the castle that are unlocked.”

They reached into their breast pocket and removed a key, which they presented to us.

“This is the key to your suite. You are guaranteed safety and privacy within, and may access it whenever needed. The guest suite is in the eastern wing of the castle.”

“Should the safety or privacy be interrupted without your consent,” the behemoth rumbled. “The Queen shall personally intervene in your defense, and you shall be compensated. Your suite should contain a full series of rooms for all your needs.”

I glanced at the Behemoth. I trusted it far more than I trusted the thing that looked like an Aster, despite the fact that it looked like it could eat me without remorse.

“Is there anything you believe I should know, or believe I should do, that you may freely tell me as a guest?”

The Behemoth froze – literally and figuratively. It stopped moving, holding more still than any human could, and an extra layer of frost crept over its skin.

After a moment, it nodded, and the frost fell off and hit the floor, where it vanished.

“Yes. You should arrange to be part of the entertainment. You should not let on that you are so new to the parties of the Fae. As a human, you are generally worse when consuming many mind-altering substances, so avoid them. And finally, you should take great care to not bleed. If you wind up hurt, accept anything else. A papercut is worse than broken ribs.”

I nodded slowly, and the scars on my legs from Theo’s attack the previous year twinged with a phantom pain. Archmage Roark had used that blood to track me down and paralyze me.

What could the Fae do with it?

“Furthermore,” the behemoth continued. “Do not kill. Even if you’re in a duel, force a surrender. You do not want to kill in the court of Medb. She began as a Queen of Death. Not even the greatest of Summer Queens would dare take such action. If you are to kill, then the only person you should kill is yourself.”

“Thank you both,” Osheen said. He glanced at me, and I nodded. “I believe that is all for now.”

The pair turned to the doors and placed their hands on the smooth ice. Power flooded out of them, and the doors began to open.

“You said it pretty early on, but now I have to ask… Husband?” Osheen asked. I turned bright red and shrugged.

“It… Has more punch, doesn’t it? Sounds more like equals. It comes with weight behind it.”

“I’m not complaining,” Osheen said. “Though I think it’s a bit early to do it in the mortal world.”

I chuckled, but it died off as the doors finished opening. The pair of door attendants stepped inside.

“Evan, Maestro of Enchantment, Emissary of the Silver Queen, and his husband, Osheen, Lord of Fire!” The Aster-like one said loudly, their voice ringing like a bell.

The ice behemoth rumbled something in a tone so low that it was all but impossible for me to make out.

And with that, we stepped into the castle of Medb, Ultimate Queen of the Winter Court, She Who Waits in the Dark, The Dark Mother, Summer’s Bane, and ten thousand other titles besides.