Altering, interfacing, damaging or otherwise interacting with the Gates without permission is a Capital Offense.
Imperial Capital Law One Hundred and Forty Eight.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
"Leave it," Marcus barked, not pausing for even a second. The spatial mage hurried to join him, looking about as stressed as he felt. The stone was left where it fell. "I'll make do with half the rings. Focus on stability and containment, nothing else."
The woman nodded rapidly, peeling off to join the rest of Vistus' mages. Or what few he hadn't taken, anyway. The man had only managed to create the foundation before having to join the fight, and frankly, they had grown reliant on him. After seven Gates, the eight should have come easily.
Instead two Calamities were swinging by to join the party, and both Elly and Vistus had to hold them off. Which normally wouldn't have been that big of a problem, but the creatures had brought a horde of Hounds with them to reinforce the already massive horde besieging the city.
'Just teleport them inside, Marcus.' They said. 'It should be easy, Marcus.' They insisted. 'You'll save millions.' They cried.
Now he was stuck trying to rush the damned Gate so the Empire could send reinforcements, because even if the Calamities both dropped dead right this instant, Zathirum was still fucked.
His first time in Merchant Prince territory, the only other territory that could claim to enjoy semi-independence from the Empire, and he was about to watch the entire damn city be devoured.
Figured. The last few weeks had been far too peaceful.
"Close the dome," he ordered, more feeling than hearing Kleph obey. He and Gretched sealed it off, finishing the work a dozen earth mages had started. Before those had been needed on the wall, that is. "Kleph, I need vines to hold the stones in place. Donna, Bracus, help him with alignment. Otmon, you're still here?"
"I am, Archmage."
The man didn't sound even half as boringly bland as usual. Marcus didn't care. "You have more experience than I do, both with Dungeon Breaks and the Empire as a whole. So, evacuate Zathirum or reinforce it?"
"Reinforce," the man replied, no hesitation in his tone. "The city serves as an important lure to prevent the Hounds from ranging further inland. Without it they have a straight shot at Atheron, and Archmage Horzo is building his airships there. The Legion's High Command knows this, so they will have reinforcements standing by. That's ignoring how important the Three Cities are to the Archmage himself, let alone the Merchant Princes. They cannot fall."
Marcus grunted. "Reinforcement it is. Vess, where are my stones?"
"Here," she called. He glanced at her, and she seemed to be the only calm person present. Marcus nodded, moving to start carving the stones, but she stepped up next to him before he could. Her tone was quiet. "Don't die with the city. If worse comes to worst, take your people and get out."
He nodded minutely, pressing his hand against a blank stone. Vistus had been teaching him some tricks for runic enchanting, mainly on how precise elemental manipulation could sink formations into the material, and it was paying off now.
The runes formed with an application of will, Vess moving away to work on her own tasks. She couldn't use magic herself, but her knowledge was varied and deep. She made for a very good quality assurance agent.
Marcus kept working even as a massive impact racketed the dome they were under. Gretched sealed the cracks easily enough, but they were in the middle of the city. If the flying Hounds were already this deep, people were dying.
As if to confirm that though, shouting came from the entrance, and the four dozen Royal Guards clustered around him formed a line. Elly had taken all but two of her Life Enhanced soldiers, but when the sound grew louder, Barry's Demon Knight rose from where he had been meditating.
Barry himself wasn't here, and in fact Marcus had argued that the demon was better served helping with the defense. But when the entrance broke open and a mass of Champions flooded inside, he was glad Elly had insisted.
Killing them himself wouldn't be too hard, but every moment he was doing that, he wasn't making the Gate.
The attackers died quickly, but their presence meant that Burrowers had gotten under the city. Which in turn meant that the earth mages were either dead or massively overextended, and that the outer wall was going to mean less and less every hour that passed.
And the worst part was that they'd dealt with these kinds of numbers before. He, Vistus and Elly had wiped out hordes this size with ease, but that had been in the wild. Elly killed Champion chieftains with her bow, Vistus created explosives, and Marcus ensured that they weren't overrun. It had taken a long afternoon, but none of them had earned even so much as a scratch.
The important part of that strategy, however, was the ability to give ground. Here, any ground they gave was filled with civilians, and a hard target turned Burrowers from annoying pests to death incarnate.
Marcus shook his head, looking down at the formation he'd been carving. His hands had moved on their own, but it looked solid enough. He didn't have the time to start over if it hadn't, frankly.
It was slotted into place by a red-faced Kleph, with Donna pointing out where each section had to go. The man was clearly straining to carry the blocks, but it was getting done. Marcus looked over the bare-bones portal and nodded to himself.
This could work. He could make this work.
And damn, Elly wasn't even gone for half an hour and his ego was already starting to bloom again. Was that why some of the other Marcusus were dicks? Self-assured, confident, calm and happy dicks?
He was saying dicks too much. Thinking. He was thinking dicks too much. Fuck, the stress was messing with his head.
Fighting Calamities was one thing, but to hold Silent Gods knew how many souls in his hands? To know that if his Gate didn't work, all of them were going to die? That was a whole different kind of pressure, and one he found deeply unwelcome.
But before long the Gate was completed, bare-bones though it was. The stones were held in place with vines, the gaps filled with air and the usual road leading up to it was absent, but it would work. It had to work.
Marcus linked his magic to the runic formation, nearly staggering at the metaphysical weight. Linking a Gate to the network wasn't easy, and in fact was growing slightly harder the larger said network grew, but it wasn't this. It wasn't like trying to scoop up the ocean with his bare hands, or moving a mountain.
Slowly, carefully, he weaved his will through the runes. Powering them went suspiciously well, as did a test of the portal, but when he tried to link the latter to the network, a surge of magic shot sideways. Which would have been caught by the fail-safe.
You know, if it existed.
Marcus scrambled to contain the energy, barely managing to redirect it back into the main formation. Which in turn wobbled, because sixth-tier matrices aren't easy to hold together in the first place. But he stabilized that too, and felt a moment of vindication when the portal snapped into place.
Except it drained far too much power without the proper containment formations, at least for now, and stability didn't mean efficiency. He realized his reserves wouldn't be enough a split second before Gretched offered her own magic, and turning this whole thing into an impromptu ritual wasn't making his job any easier.
And it shouldn't have worked. Not by a long shot. Simply combining power wasn't how magic of this complexity functioned, and Gretched would know that. But it was better than failure, which might very well kill everyone in the dome.
Yet this was space. Yet this was his domain, and more than affinity, he and space shared an understanding. So he guided Gretched's power into place, pushing through pain and exhaustion and pressure with an effort of will.
The working snapped fully into place, and he linked it to the network a moment later. That, at least, went smoothly. It was a separate formation, and one that cared little for the state—or absence—of its siblings.
He prepared to relax his hold over the Gate, and the moment he did, the whole construct strained. Marcus felt like cursing, tightening his will. The portal stabilized, but apparently, massive and poorly prepared changes put a lot of strain on the formations.
Who could have seen that one coming.
Marcus opened a Gate to Strada, one of the silent Viziers stepping through not a full second after he did. Vistus had called them the 'hands of the Empress', which were different from the 'eyes' he was familiar with, because apparently everything needed categories. Either way, the woman was damn good at her job, because it took only a few minutes before she joined his side.
"River Reach, two Legions. Bexley, stone mages. Ulmon—"
"Just show me the damned list."
The woman held up the scroll, and Marcus switched the Gate to River Reach. Again the woman stepped through, speaking briefly with those on the other side, and not two minutes later companies of Imperial soldiers were marching into Zathirum.
Surprisingly, the size of the Gate wasn't the main bottleneck of speed. It was organization. And the Empire was very well organized, which showed when it didn't even take half an hour for half a Legion to cross over. An unprepared Legion, at that.
An hour after that stone mages from Bexley were flowing through, another switch to Strada letting a dozen divination mages pass, and Marcus could almost feel the situation stabilize. Which was little comfort to him, because his mind felt like a wrung out sponge.
It took barely any power to keep the Gate stable, but it was exhausting. Donna and Bracus did what they could, and he appreciated their help, yet with every minute that passed, he wondered if he wasn't more useful out there.
If anyone asked, he was worried about the civilians. And he was, in part. But much more important was Elly, who was actually fighting for her life. It wasn't like he could just run out of here, either.
Well, he could, but he did actually care whether the city survived or not. And despite his own power, keeping the Gate stable was the best option. He could kill Hounds, sure, and maybe watch for Burrowers, but both? And healing on top of that? And divination on top of that?
Like Vistus had said, economy of scale. He was just one man, but the Empire was an Empire.
That didn't mean he liked it, so when the silent Vizier approached, he snapped around to look at her. "All mission-critical assets have arrived, Arch—"
He didn't wait for her to finish, teleporting through the open door, then up. A flock of Hounds were torn apart before they could interrupt his search, his only other proper sixth-tier spell making short work of them, and he moved to the gatehouse when he found nothing.
Marcus staggered briefly before straightening, waving away the officer that came to report to him. His reserves were fine, under a third but holding, but it was his mind that struggled. It was rarely willpower than gave out between those, and it grated. Holding one shitty Gate open for a few hours, and he was apparently done for.
Pathetic. Marcus forced his perception upwards, uncaring for the spike of pain that laced through his mind.
There.
Vistus and Elly were fighting their way through a tribe of Champions, the former seeming exhausted while his wife was more blur than person. He moved them to his side, a wall of resistance in his way for but a moment. Elly relaxed her own a split-second after recognizing it, while Vistus took a much longer moment to drop his defenses.
The old man staggered, which was more Marcus' fault than his own, and to his surprise Elly's hand shot out to steady the Archmage. Marcus wiped out the group they'd been fighting for good measure, turning to them afterward.
"You look like shit," Elly started, a weak grin on her face. Her left shoulder was gone, her arm alongside it, and the armor around her stomach was torn to shreds. Her cloak, the one he'd given her, was surprisingly intact. "Much worse than me, in fact."
Marcus put his hand on her neck, the only part of her that wasn't covered by armor. Elly's hiss turned into a sigh of relief, and the blood that was dripping from the wound—which should have been spewing the stuff—stopped entirely.
"Not to interrupt this touching reunion," Vistus interrupted, his tone surprisingly light. "But I might require some assistance."
Marcus turned to him, wondering what wound the Archmage couldn't manage himself. A hole in his lower back bled green, which answered his question. Poison. "Reserves?"
"As empty as they can be," the man replied, digging a finger into the wound. His whole frame tensed, but no sound of pain escaped his lips. Marcus felt a pulse of magic, which quickly cut off. "Yeah. Whenever you have a moment. Or right this second, because the venom is getting close to my heart, and neutralizing it with this little power is proving… difficult."
Slapping his other hand on the man's forearm, and ignoring the half destroyed bracer, he split four matrices away from Elly to cleanse his body. The rush of the tier four cleansing matrix made Vistus tense again, and Marcus knew firsthand how much that hurt, but it was also highly effective.
Marcus realized this was stupid, looking behind himself. A pair of healers, third-tier by the feel of them, were lounging by a table. Recovering, most likely, but they felt recovered enough. Marcus summoned them with a flex of will, their startled expressions appearing before him.
"Cleanse Vistus while I work on Elly."
The Legion mages obeyed on instinct, and he made a note to thank Elly one of these days. Her lessons on voice modulation were showing their use more and more. Or the 'obey me' tone, as she called it.
"I saw the new Legions," Elly murmured, bumping into him. The bump turned into a lean, which turned into him pretty much holding her up. Marcus could feel a torrent of Life energy leaving her body. "Good job. Also, fighting Calamities without you sucks. Let's never do that again."
Marcus sighed, gently sitting her down. Vistus was being joined by his apprentice and a concerned looking Felid, but the healers were doing their job. "Being stuck in a stone dome while those I love risk their lives is horrible, so yes, let's never do that again. Also, how do I look worse than you? You're missing an arm."
"The eyes," she replied, waving vaguely in his direction. "Your eyes. They're… hollow? It looks terrible. Fix that, pretty boy."
"As soon as I've made sure you're not going to bleed to death."
Elly scoffed, or tried to. She coughed instead, and blood tainting her already ruined armor. She hummed. "That's probably not good."
It wasn't. One of her ribs was puncturing her lung, and while he could have healed that, he didn't trust his current self to do it properly. So instead he found another two Legion healers, and no one complained about him stealing them.
He'd made sure they weren't overly busy, anyway.
Marcus turned back to Vistus once he made sure the healers had Elly under control, hearing a loud crash down below. He peeked over the edge, finding an actual battering ram being operated by Champions. He made them stop existing with a small application of extreme violence.
"Save your strength," Vistus called, pushing the healers away. "And please return these two to their duties. Elly and I shall have to share."
He obliged, seeing that the man's apprentice had a solid grasp of healing magic herself. Marcus sighed. "What happened?"
"We overextended," the old man replied. Elly grunted in quiet agreement. "It seems even I am not immune to bad habits, and traveling with you made me forget how dangerous Hounds can be. How… taxing to kill they are in large numbers."
Elly tsked at one of the healers, though the man seemed to care little. Marcus was about to rebuke her for drawing upon Life energy so soon when he noticed her gaze turning distant, and he felt a shiver climb up his spine.
"Another horde," she called, climbing to her feet with a grunt. "Mostly ground based. Fifty thousand at the least."
Marcus looked at Zathirum; at its tired, bleeding defenders and the chipped, worn walls. "The city can't weather that, not so soon, and neither of you are up to wiping it out. Especially not before it gets here. I'll see what I can do."
Elly's hand clamped over his own, her fingers feeling more like steel than flesh. He raised an eyebrow, but she only scowled in return. "You're tired, and there might be another Calamity. You're not going alone."
"Elenoir is correct," Vistus agreed. Marcus scowled at the man, who seemed far too relaxed at the news. "Don't be obstinate. The Gates are already allowing the Empire to rapidly redeploy its Legions, not to mention ensuring an even distribution of supplies. I won't be risking that, not for one city. And if that isn't good enough, the Empress rarely relies on only one plan. Look."
Marcus turned to where the man pointed, not seeing much of anything. Elly, evidently, did, and a grin spread over her face. Marcus grunted. "Mind filling me in?"
"It'll be better as a surprise."
He debated dropping her from orbit just for that, but he settled on poking her non-injured ribs. She drew back like he'd stabbed her, an overdramatic hiss of pain escaping her lips. The pair of healers, one of whom had moved to Vistus' side by now, didn't so much as blink.
She drew herself up, and Marcus turned his scowl on her. She deflated. "Fine, steal my fun. Airships, six of them. They'll be here when that horde isn't even halfway."
Marcus peered into the distance, but still couldn't see anything. They must be faster than he thought to cross that much space so quickly. He turned away after a long moment, stealing a few good chairs from a nearby house. The windows were broken open, so he doubted the owner was home to complain.
With Vistus low on power, they would do. He dropped himself into it with a sigh, Elly dragging her own closer until she could lean up against him, and Vistus seemed to be debating doing the same. That old man was shockingly immature, at times.
But what few flying Hounds there were died long before reaching them, and the top of the gatehouse offered a splendid view of the countryside. That and Vistus' apprentice was shielding them, which helped.
Ten minutes later his own apprentices joined her, and Marcus watched someone important—Vistus explained that it was the brother of the patriarch of the local Great House—rally the defenders. They were doing a pretty good job of it, too.
It was nice when nobility actually cared for the people. Rare, but nice.
Then ten minutes after that the airships were in full view, and before long Marcus was sipping wine from an ornate glass. The horde raced ever closer, the airships adjusted position, and Vistus was cleared fully of poison.
Horzo's airships rained fire from the sky, decimating the helpless Hounds, and Marcus decided that he rather liked the reclusive Archmage. He owed the man a firm handshake, at the least. Maybe a melon basket.
He still wanted one for himself, though. Teleporting was faster, they were in high demand and Elly's idea of putting a Gate on them was impossible, but he still wanted one. They were cool.
"But why not?" Elly pressed, waving her glass around. "It shouldn't matter that the network formations don't like to be moved. Just tell them to stop complaining."
Vistus grinned. "She has a point. Can't you just tell them what to do, Marcus? Imagine how useful they would be. And here I thought you were supposed to be an Archmage."
"I am not explaining this again," Marcus hissed, pointing at the old man. "And you. Elly I can forgive, what with her having lost a lot of blood, but you only got poisoned. Have some dignity."
"Dignity is overrated."
It was a sad, sad state of affairs that he wasn't sure which of the two had said that. He decided to blame both of them equally.
Elly yelped when her wine vanished, Vistus cursed when his own was mysteriously turned upside down, and while his wife just stole his, and Vistus removed the liquid with a wave of his hand, it was good enough.
Punishment had been doled out, so that meant it was time for a nap. A long, nice nap.
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