Deep, deep under the sea, there exists a portal. We don't know who put it there, we don't know what it does, but it's there. Or so the rumor goes. We have confirmed its existence, but were forced to retreat when a school of leviathans noticed our presence. We will try again next year, your majesty.
Imperial report from the year four hundred and eight, approximately two hundred years before the awaking of the Last Archmage
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Marcus inhaled the salty air, deciding he didn't much like it. But he did like that he was away from Redwater, even if Elly wasn't here with him.
Not because she was afraid. She'd said that she wasn't, and he believed her. No, the Mirranian royal army was performing a joint exercise with the Imperial Legions, training to deploy to and from Horzo's airships.
Elly hadn't liked the Empire having free rein of their army, so she went with them. Hells, they were further apart now than they had ever been, considering the exercise was in Merchant Prince territory.
The wonder of the Gates.
Marcus shook it off, watching the water and seeing nothing much of interest. They were still in the bay, and the navy kept it thoroughly under control. Every leviathan that entered was tagged and tracked, if not killed outright. There was very little to worry about.
Especially considering the ship he stood on. Four galleons were part of this expedition, and each would give even the larger beasts trouble. Doubly so for the amount of mages, Life enhanced soldiers and specialists they carried.
And unlike Calamities, these things weren't resistant to magic. Oh no, not one bit. Spatial arcs were rather well suited for removing the things even if they curled tightly around the hull.
The Royal Guard next to him shifted, and Marcus turned, seeing the captain of the Mirranian navy approaching. Carl hadn't changed much, in truth. A little older, a little more grey, but much more relaxed than before. Years of good living had done him well.
"Archmage," the man greeted mildly, running a hand over the railing. Marcus gripped it a little tighter himself, the ship shifting under his feet. Carl snorted. "You'll get used to that. Now, don't have these fine men stab me, but I have a complaint."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "I don't have people stabbed for complaining, captain. I'm not Elly."
"The Queen is wise," the man replied, managing to sound sincere. "But no, you are not. I question the wisdom of this expedition."
"Oh?"
Carl waved at the approaching seawall, and the gap that they were going to leave through. "The open waters are dangerous, and our ships are few. We will attract less attention, true, but neither can we screen incoming threats. Not before they reach you here."
"Is that concern for my safety I detect?"
"In a way," Carl murmured. The man sighed. "I really don't want to explain to the Queen why I let her husband drown."
Marcus barked out a laugh. "At the risk of sounding arrogant, captain, if my life is in danger, your chances of survival are slim. Let me demonstrate."
Carl raised an eyebrow, confused, while Marcus turned sideways. A trio of ships were blocking off the entrance to the bay, and while they were far, they weren't that far. One teleport moved them into the air, another down onto the deck of his target.
The captain hadn't noticed it yet, clearly, even though Marcus had used nothing but his own eyes.
His passenger staggered, face twisting as the nausea hit, but Marcus was impressed at how quickly he got over it. The four Royal Guards he'd brought barely stumbled, interposing themselves between him and the surprised crew, but Marcus ignored them.
Rather, a monster was coming towards the bay. It was a thing of scales and teeth, swimming just below the surface. A great maw was opened wide, probably in an intimidation display, and its serpentine body cut through the water with ease.
Marcus hummed to himself, calmly weaving his sixth tier spatial cluster together. "Pay attention, captain. Enduring the nausea for nothing would be wasteful."
"You're as crazy as she is," the man said, unclasping a waterskin from his waist. He spoke again after taking a long gulp. "My king."
"Noted. Now pay attention."
Carl finally looked out over the water, paling all over again when he saw the sea serpent. "Shit. We have to get the ships into position."
"Now that was a little insulting," Marcus replied. "What, did you think I'd drag you here just to let it eat us?"
The monster swam closer and closer, and then it entered the bay proper. Marcus released his spatial cluster, aiming it just below the water and roughly halfway down the serpent's length.
Dozens of spatial arcs slashed at the beast, cutting deeply into its flesh. It didn't roar, or make much sound at all, but it did twist away. Diving deep, wishing to escape from whatever had hit it. Marcus snorted.
His arcs barely even noticed they were underwater, let alone dull their edge. It didn't get far. His cluster hadn't cut it in half, the spell wasn't designed for a single target, but it was memorable. Carl watched, just kind of staring, as blood gushed from the beast in great rivers.
Marcus waited, trusting in the spell's power, and it resurfaced after a long few seconds. The body floated like a capsized boat, which meant that it was the kind of serpent that needed air. Most of them sank.
He turned to the captain. "You are the expert, and one of very few who can claim to have sailed a fleet across the ocean in a long, long time. I, however, do bring some skills to the table."
Not waiting for a reply, Marcus moved them back towards their first ship, which had only moved a small distance. Carl groaned, staggering again, and for a moment Marcus thought the man was going to throw up.
But he didn't, though the captain did shoot him a glare. "Stop that."
"No." Marcus shrugged at the confused look that earned him. "I said what I said. Call me when a monster has to be taken care of. You use divination mages to detect them, correct?"
Carl sighed. "We do. Their biology is different enough from humans—or humanoids—that detection spells work at twice their usual range. Even if they rise straight from the sea floor, we can spot them with plenty of warning. Usually."
"Usually?"
"Magic is not an exact science."
Marcus frowned. "Yes it is. I'll speak to them."
Carl opened his mouth, but Marcus was already striding away. Magic is not an exact science. Bah. Typical Parnanian blustering. He didn't go around claiming to be an expert on Life enforcement, but oh, Carl is sure it's not an exact science, is he?
Now, he might, might, have taken some of that annoyance out on the divination mages. Some of which, he was horrified to note, studied at his Academy. But he spotted the issue—they'd built a list of beasts and added any they hadn't seen, which the spell relied on. Sloppy—and broke it down so they could fix it.
Finding common biological traits, such as gills, was a much more foolproof manner. False positives were annoying and wasteful, sure, but false negatives was where the real danger lied.
Marcus took a nap after that, because he'd been up half the damn night with Vess, but he was interrupted not an hour into it. He groaned, sitting up while the Royal Guard spoke. "The captain requests your presence, my king. A kraken is approaching."
They made it out to sea proper, then. Good. He ran back his thoughts, deciding that he shouldn't phrase his intelligence vetting session with Vess as 'staying up half the night'. Someone might get the wrong idea.
It took only seconds to get to the deck, and when he did, he joined Carl. The captain was listening to a report from a sailor, and Marcus felt Life flowing through the man.
Elly could enhance her eyes without so much as thinking about it. She could spot a fly further than anyone he'd ever met, and it would never even interrupt her movement. This sailor was standing stock-still, in comparison, frowning in pain while he spoke.
The captain turned, waving grandly to the sea. "Here's your chance to prove your worth, I suppose. Go kill the beasty, if it is so easy."
"You have a loose tongue, captain," Marcus commented. It wasn't quite a rebuke, and neither was it taken as one. The man just snorted. "But I'll make you a bet. I'll kill it before it can touch any of the ships, and you dive overboard to cool that ego of yours. I'll fish you out, don't worry."
The man frowned, because it was obviously a trap, but shrugged after a moment. "Fuck it. Go ahead. Can't even see the damn thing."
No, Marcus couldn't. But a first-tier divination spell informed him of the beast's location, the very same he had, not hours before, been helping the mages with. He let the spell drop, and it was so trivial to keep the location in his mind. He knew where it was, even if he could never verbally point somewhat towards the thing.
The sixth-tier spatial cluster hit the beasts in the face, or close enough that it didn't matter. The mage next to the captain startled, likely feeling it vanish from her own divination spell. Marcus raised an eyebrow at the captain, pointing down at the sea.
Carl turned to the mage. "What?"
"It's dead," the mage responded, clearing her throat. The women bowed deeply, looking past the captain. "The Archmage is beyond reproach."
Marcus ignored the platitude. "Jump, captain, or are you not a man of your word?"
Carl stared, eyes glancing at the watching crew. At the near hundred men and women on deck, and likely knowing the other three hundred below would hear about it soon enough. The man sighed. "Fuck."
Then he jumped, and Marcus teleported him back onto the deck. But not before letting him fall behind, at least a little.
***
"We're here," Carl reported, inclining his head. Progress. Marcus had taken to challenging him on pretty much every moment of snark, since there wasn't much else to do. "I can't keep the ships still, you know that, right? The anchors don't go that deep."
Marcus shrugged. He should have taken an airship, and while he had been promised one, it would have taken nearly a month to get to Mirrania. And he wanted to get this project done, dammit.
"That's fine. Just stay as close as you can while we work. Are you sure it is actually here?"
Carl shrugged. "They're your maps, but deep sea trenches don't move, in my experience."
"Our maps now, captain, but fair enough. The ships will be fine without me?"
"Should be," the man hedged. "We killed the last four, didn't we?"
They had, though not without damage to the ships. Damage that was easy enough to repair, admittedly, but damage all the same. Still, the captain had actually giggled when Academy trained druids mended the wood.
Giggled. Like a teenager. Silent Gods, that man was a walking disaster.
But he was also the best, and this required the best.
Carl grunted, apparently not needing an answer. "So, the plan is to go down into the trench, build one of your Gates, then use a portal spell—whatever that is—to shoot water at people. I feel like there should be easier ways to accomplish that."
"I am," he replied, waving his hand. "You won't understand the math even if I explain it, but basically, the whole sea should be pressing down on this side of the portal. By limiting my side, I can flood entire battlefields, make a beam of water so concentrated it should be able to cut matter, and more."
"That's a lot of 'shoulds'."
Marcus shrugged. "I don't think anyone has ever tried this before. The math checks out, though. Considering it would be a non-direct magical attack, it will be my best weapon against Calamities, and also finally make use of my portals. The spell proper, I mean, not the Gates."
"And how, pray tell, would the water achieve any kind of force?"
He rolled his eyes. "Water is very nearly non-compressible, captain. Once it exits the portal, the pressure of the entire ocean will convert to speed, fast enough to create a continuous—and dangerously loud—boom. Those standing too close without proper ear protection will go deaf rather quickly."
"Oh," the man replied. "I will admit to never having too much interest in scholarly affairs, but that sounds violent."
Marcus smiled humorlessly. "For all the power we mages claim to hold, nature works on a different scale. Science can be described as a kind of magic rather easily, I feel: manipulating existing flows of energy for desired results."
"Anything could be magic, if you're going to be that vague about it."
That was fair. Marcus rolled his shoulder, whisking away a low ache with a burst of crude healing magic. "Assemble my party, captain. It's time to get to work."
His party. A dozen water mages, two air mages, two stone mages, a woman who could use Life to see in near pitch black, and his apprentices. A fire mage, too, to regulate the temperature of the bubble.
The only reason this wasn't madness was his ability to teleport, and even that was limited in the deep dark of the ocean. But if this worked, it would give him the kind of offensive power combat Archmages could boast, and that was worth the risk.
Besides, while the ocean was deadly, they were hardly sailing to another continent. Now that even he would not have tried, not now and not without one of Horzo's airships.
Elly's bleak stories from her Long Night on the Sea were plenty enough for him.
Marcus shook his head, and it didn't take long to assemble the party at all. A wooden crane was assembled on the deck, one that would be lowering them into the placid ocean, and he looked at the platform. It would do.
More importantly, it would give his water mages time to construct the bubble, which would stop them from being crushed to death. The air mages would be drawing fresh oxygen out of the water, which was apparently rather difficult, and once they were on the ocean floor, the stone mages would raise a temporary shelter.
Nearly an hour passed before they actually descended, but it flew by in a haze. Excitement was there, and a trickle of fear, but most of all it was anticipation. What he was doing now was not a new theory. Using water for war, likewise, was not so strange. Wave or rock, both hit hard enough to break bones.
But the math was fresh, and unlike old records of grand declarations, he would actually be attempting it. Putting theory to practice and providing results, be they good or bad.
Marcus finally stepped on the wooden platform, a ring of mages pressed close around him. For once, he didn't overly mind. The crane lowered, the heaving of sailors letting them descend inch by inch, and when they hit water, magic rose.
The water mages were well trained, picked for this task by himself and the Council. The wooden platform soon floated on the water, and as his mages took control over the surroundings, a bubble formed around them.
It was a strange bubble. Flat at the bottom to support the wood, since they would have nothing else to stand on otherwise. Constant adjustment kept it still, and not four feet from him, air turned to water.
Already the air mages were pulling oxygen from it, little streams of water entering their dome before vanishing. Invisible, life-giving air was left behind, while everything else was pushed away. Their dome bubbled with excess gasses, and it was fascinating to watch.
Fish swam to inspect them, the platform sank and sank, and before long he couldn't see anything at all. But their Life enhanced scout could, while he himself ran a minor divination matrix.
It was only useful against non-mages, really, and shockingly ineffective against the Dungeon. But here, where the monsters of the sea lived, it was a different matter.
But no beasties were in range, and even deep below, there was nothing his magic could feel. Then again, few people really knew what lived deep in the ocean. Around and around his thoughts spun, over and over.
Marcus let the moment of uncertainty come and go. Fear was healthy, and it kept one alive, but he would not be ruled by it. Failure was possible, and though unwelcome, it would not lead to his death. Even if the worst should happen, water did not block his ability to teleport. Not if he pushed through perception-altering teleportation, which while bad for his health, was better than death.
Yet nothing happened. No monsters came to kill them, the pressure of the deep ocean did not crush the water mages, and after a long descent, their platform gently landed on the sea floor.
For all that they called this a trench, it was wide enough he couldn't see the sides. Not even had he been able to see like their scout, though four miles deep, even she wouldn't be able to see much, Life or no.
He clapped his hand, breaking the silence. "Setup the shelter and let's test—"
"There's something here."
Marcus twisted at the scout's words, looking at the spot she indicated. Nothing but darkness greeted him, and his divination spell returned nothing. He broadened the parameters, looking for base flesh. For something that should be everywhere, and thus be useless for scouting.
Instead it showed only one shape, and Marcus was very careful not to show even an ounce of his fear. "Nobody moves."
Nobody did, because these men and women were well trained. Whatever was with them in the trench hadn't either, not when they arrived and not when Marcus' magic had washed over it.
So he looked again, and again, until he had a vague idea of its shape. The creature filled much of the trench, and what could generously be called a head was some three hundred feet away. It wasn't a snake, not wholly, but its body was long, and the dozens of limbs so very small in comparison.
He risked a stronger spell, third-tier and much more informative, and it moved. Twitched, really, but to his current mindset, it might as well have lunged. The sixth-tier spatial cluster detonated not inches from its face.
There wasn't a roar, water distorted sound too much for that, but there was a droning. A shockwave of pressure, translated to a noise he couldn't honestly describe. He was seconds away from teleporting them up and damn the consequences, before it… fled?
His divination was constant now, and draining his magic, but the creature appeared to be scurrying backwards. Its many limbs dragged at the sides of the trench, and there were deep grooves in its face. Despite that, he had the feeling it was very far from death.
All the same, it retreated, finally turning around fully before swimming away. Donna poked his side, her usual sunshine smile nowhere to be found. "What's happening?"
"Nothing," he lied easily. The scout glanced at him, and very quickly looked away. Good. "It was just a falling rock, though a big one. Apologies for overreacting. Let's get to work."
Only Barcus seemed to doubt the story, alongside the scout who had seen Silent Gods knew what, but neither said a word. So the earthen shelter was grown, Marcus assembled the runic blocks he'd prepared two weeks ago, and half an hour later, the Gate was assembled.
It laid flat where the others stood upright, and its size was between his usual Gates and the one standing in his room. Like he'd theorized, it cared little about being so deep underwater.
If only his body could take the hint and stop producing adrenaline, this might have been fun. But it didn't, and after forcing himself to double check that it had been properly anchored to the seabed—no curious leviathan was going to dislodge his Gate—he ordered them back up to the ships.
Again, nothing attacked them, but for all of Vess' lessons, he couldn't quite stop all his nerves from leaking out. It meant that their party was rather tense during the ascent, and tenser still when the crane's rope attached through their platform to carry them the last fifty feet. Marcus couldn't blame them.
What the fuuuuck.
Carl greeted them, raising an eyebrow when Marcus spoke over his greeting. "Set course back for Mirrania. We're leaving."
"Weren't we supposed to stay here for a few—" The man almost yelped when Marcus glared at him, a blanket of power wrapping around his shoulders. Carl cleared his throat. "Back to Mirrania, sir yes sir."
Marcus made himself scarce, only to find himself being followed. On a ship like this there was never true privacy, fair enough, but the deck was relatively empty. Barcus walked up next to him, peering out at sea. "It is rare to see you spooked."
"There was a creature not three hundred feet away from where we landed, big enough to fill the trench. It was watching us. Or not. I don't know. I hit it with a spatial cluster and it fled, but it could have swallowed the entire party whole."
"Ah," Barcus replied. Ah indeed. "Will you test the spell?"
Marcus sighed. "Yeah. Just give me a minute."
His apprentice nodded easily. Marcus envied his stoicism, now more than usual.
But being back above the water helped, and soon anticipation was overcoming anxiety. This new Gate, for all that it followed the base template of the others, was different. Specialized.
No living being could travel through it. Hells, nothing but water could. A security measure as much as it wasn't intended as one, though now he was glad for it. But the Gate had to be simplified, and only accepting a single element significantly decreased the energy draw.
Who needed stabilizing boundaries, fail safes or security layers? There was only connection, and even that was tweaked to be less energy intense. Which increased the stress on anything that passed through, but water would care little.
Or so the theory went.
Marcus slowly weaved his sixth-tier portal spell together. But where normally he chose two locations within sight, now one was linked to the Gate. The other stood some four dozen feet from the ship, pointed out at sea.
The connection formed, his reserves drained, and Barcus helpfully layered a shield of air around the thing. A barrier, bouncing the sound away from the ship.
And there was sound. A great clap of it, but unending and deep. Then water. Or the water had come before the sound, and his ears told him lies. Marcus wasn't sure, because while the portal was only a few feet in diameter, the cone took all his attention.
The Gate was bigger than the portal, after all, and the water needed to be concentrated. Thus, the cone. A tunnel that narrowed slowly, made from nothing but magic. Explaining it was hard, and he'd tried. This was experimental magic, and not something easily put into words.
When that was finally stable, he opened his eyes—unsure when he'd closed them—and found that his spell was doing exactly what it should. Water was spewing from his portal, blasting forward with titanic force. It leapt forward until it could leap no further, where all that weight crashed into the sea.
Marcus found more than just Barcus next to him when he looked, including the captain. Carl opened his mouth, closed it, then shrugged. "I've got nothing."
"That's a first." Marcus shot the man a grin, feeling so very alive. "Alright, let's tighten the beam."
He pressed his will against the portal, tightening the radius. It tightened the cone, too, and his reserves started to drain rapidly from the stress. But the spell held, and the torrent of water turned into a single beam. Tighter and tighter he formed it, until it was no more than an inch wide.
Math told him that the beam should travel for no more than a few hundred feet before scattering. Still lethal, but not so tightly compacted. Instead it traveled for over a mile, which he suspected might have to do with the cone. It packed the water together incredibly tightly, so much so that the usual instability was delayed.
He cut it off, his reserves already below a third. It would get more efficient with practice. And that beam should slice more cleanly than any sword, and while his spatial arcs boasted better cutting power, this was non-magical. Plain water, but forced into a shape it so very rarely took.
Marcus watched the beam continue to travel before finally dissolving into rain-like droplets, scattered over miles. Oh yes, that was exactly what he had been looking for.
He grinned, and almost, almost, looked forward to next when he met a Calamity.
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