"You mock me for throwing sand in an honor duel? Tell me, young lord, what do you think the word honor implies? I shall tell you, because you do not know. The honor in an honor duel means that I did not have four of my friends waiting at his house, to fill him with crossbow bolts the moment he stepped outside. So I shall throw sand, and my opponent shall die. If that earns me mockery, at least I am alive to hear it."
A conversation between a Knight of Mirrania and her pupil.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
The Mirror Dimension. Marcus didn't come here often, not in truth. A hundred duties occupied his days, and with Elly gone, so was most of his entertainment. Which mattered, because the Mirror Dimension could be a dark place.
Fortunately, she was set to return soon. Unfortunately, he had been right about it being a dark place.
"You killed him," the not-Marcus accused, scorn in his tone. Three others flanked him, the most he had ever seen in one place. Marcus snorted, making the not-Marcus take a step forward. "You laugh, boy? We had an agreement, Scholar and I. His research was to aid me in the war against the Merchant Princes."
Marcus shrugged. "He was killing unborn versions of us."
"And what do I care for the suffering of those who by definition cannot suffer?" the man asked. The other three hims were silent, at least so far. A pecking order? He snorted again, making the not-Marcus scowl. "You will die for this, and—"
Marcus interrupted by pointing to the least angry looking version of himself. "You—me, whatever—you're the only one here who knows how to fight worth a damn. Dungeon or Empire?"
"Elven pit fighter, then the Empire." the man said. Marcus blinked. Damn. "You?"
"Elly, Empire then Dungeon."
The man sighed, glancing at his companions. "Yeah. Fuck that. Scholar was a friend, but not so close of one that I'll risk following him to his grave."
"Fucking coward," the first Marcus hissed. Honestly, where was all that rage coming from? Marcus himself so rarely got angry. Annoyed, irritated and upset, yes, but angry? "The three of us—"
Marcus interrupted again, this time by closing the distance. His mace was in hand and impacting the speaking man's head moments later, another teleport creating distance. Unfortunately, the remaining two Marcus' seemed willing to continue, and on a second glance, the first one wasn't dead at all.
A barrier had interposed itself at the last second, though its owner looked startled.
Oh well. Three to one where he knew none of their tricks? As one of him had said not seconds ago, fuck that. He had nothing to prove here, and nothing to fight for.
Marcus moved away, liberally teleporting to bravely running away. The question remained about how they had found him, and if they could find him again, but hopefully this was just a fluke of fate.
Once he was far enough away, he retreated back to his own reality, knowing they couldn't follow. He didn't know how he knew, or why he was so certain, but there would be no traveling to other timelines. Or realities, or whatever word fit best.
Point being, while he and all his 'brothers' could speak and talk and fight in this place, that was all.
He opened his eyes, finding himself exactly where he'd left; his room in the Academy. Marcus paused, stretching briefly before nodding to himself.
Only then did he allow the tired, sad, self pitying sigh to escape him. Once he could have moved on from. One bad apple, in a sea of infinity, was an outlier so great as to be ignorable.
But now four others had joined the mad scientists destroying the souls of infants, even if only three had moved against him openly. Scholar was a friend. Even the one version of himself unwilling to spill blood to avenge a child-murderer had called that same murderer a friend.
The Mirror Dimension was not a place of goodness, hope and earnest discovery. It couldn't be, because such a place didn't exist. It was people that were good, hopeful and earnest. And people, by definition, were not only good, nor only bad.
Maybe it was arrogance that made him hope that he—all of him—would be different. But he wasn't, and neither was anyone else.
Marcus spoke, sounding tired even to himself. "I know you're there, Elly. Welcome back."
"I didn't want to intrude," she replied, almost seeming to appear next to him. She wrung her hands, uncharacteristically unsure. "The training was stopped early because of the weather. I—What happened? I don't like it when you're sad."
He looked at her, offering a smile. It didn't last long. "Nothing, really. I hoped, and thus I was able to be disappointed. Sit, sit. Tell me about how our soldiers fared."
"I want to help," she declared, dropping into her chair. "But I can't, because this isn't a problem to be stabbed. Damn you, husband. I don't like feeling useless."
Marcus snorted. "Well, as long as we're focused on how this is affecting you."
"Why wouldn't we?" Elly grinned, offering exactly what he was looking for. A distraction. Silent Gods, he really did love her. "Can't exactly join you in your fantasy land to play, can I?"
He tsked, tone a near drawl. "How dare you suggest I'm making that up. I'm far too egotistical to credit others with achievements had I created them myself."
"You are many things, but egotistical is not one of them."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, and Elly shrugged. He shook his head. "I am king. I'd think that comes with some manner of ego, believing myself fit to rule a kingdom."
"Ego is healthy," she corrected. "And you have some of that royal bearing, at times. But healthy ego is confidence that doesn't need validation, built through self respect and reflection. That you have, because if you hadn't, all that power would have turned you into a cruel, small minded tyrant."
He rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. "Thank you, I suppose. I'm not sure how to feel about honest praise. Or about you using that many big words in a row."
"Vileness of the highest order," Elly replied leisurely. "I read, I'll have you know. Now up you get, you pouting godling. Sitting here will accomplish nothing, and you promised to show me your new trick."
Marcus huffed. "You don't even know If I succeeded, you wretch, and I was not pouting, nor am I a godling. About the only thing you got right was that this doesn't accomplish anything."
"I'm going to ignore all of that except for the part where you implied that you might have failed." Elly stood, hovering over him. She smirked, her hair falling over his face as she leaned closer. "Because really, that's a horrible bet. Now up, or I'll annoy you until you do."
Well, there was only one proper response for that, wasn't there? Marcus leaned closer, then closer, until her eyes grew wide and he was inches from her face.
He stood, brushing past her and not quite believing that had actually worked. Marcus turned, bowing shallowly and waving towards the door. "Shall we?"
Elly glanced at him, and for a long moment, he honestly felt like he was facing down some ancient predator. A panther of muscle and grace, staring at its prey moments before pouncing. Something primal and old, from the days before man claimed to be civilized.
I'll never be that smooth again, but whatever happens, worth it.
"I think we shall," she finally replied, turning her chin up. Despite being shorter than him, she seemed to loom. "You poke that which you do not understand."
Marcus shrugged. "Very true. Fortunately, I'm quite good at running away. Now let's go. My 'new trick', as you call it, is somewhat destructive, so we need plenty of space. Pun not intended."
Elly sniffed, either at the pun or him in general, and turned to sweep out of the room. Considering that she slowed slightly to let him catch up, it was a terrible insult.
Once they were outside—Marcus endured the gawking student body with something resembling patience—he started teleporting them, only pausing long enough to send a message to his guards. Those in turn would be informing Mitzi, and Helios, and probably another hundred people.
Still, some alone time sounded divine, and in an open field, there was little his guards could do that Elly couldn't do better. Except protect against poison, but really, Vess had significantly tightened security in the kingdom.
If some group had gotten past her, could kill him and Elly, but was somehow stopped by Royal Guards, he'd give them a knighthood. Posthumously.
"Why—" Elly began, interrupted by a teleport. She didn't seem bothered. "Are— we going— to— the bay?"
Marcus offered her a shrug. "Because my trick tricks all over the land, and people get upset when their homes get tricked."
"Don't ever speak like that again," she replied, grimacing. She brightened. "But hey, if you need someone to trick over, I'd be insulted if you went to a peasant instead of me."
He opened his mouth, closing it after a second. Elly sighed. "You don't know what that means. Silent Gods, you're so innocent. Let's just go."
Marcus shrugged, bringing them a little closer to the shore. He could just about barely spot one of their vessels when they arrived, seemingly hoisting a kraken corpse onto its deck. From what little he saw, it didn't look easy. Two more ships, smaller and more agile, were sailing closer to assist.
The sea monster trade was still in full swing, then. The reports had said as much, but it was good to see with his own eyes.
Elly stepped up next to him, having paused to steal a yellow plant. He wasn't even going to ask. "My ships look good."
"They better," he replied. "If it weren't so profitable, sending that many druids to keep them in good repair would be monstrously expensive. And for no real gain, at that, because if we're ever to go across the ocean, we're taking an airship. Fuck sailing, and fuck the sea."
She looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Had fun with a few beasties, did you?"
"You don't know?" No, of course she wouldn't. "Right, I saw a thing at the bottom of the trench I put my Gate in. It was at least ten times the size of the serpents, if not more. Scale gets fuzzy through divination. It fled when I attacked, and yes, I panicked, but if it hadn't, I would have damn well fled."
Elly whistled. "Big beasty. Now stop teasing and show me your trick already."
"Here, out in the open? You really are crass, aren't you?"
"Oh, now you understand," she muttered. "Just show me already. I want to get to the sparring."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Behold, then, ultimate power."
The portal spell wove together smoothly, and though he took his time, it didn't take long. His reserves almost seemed to quiver, but like the Gates it had inspired, only initial activation was expensive.
After that the portal settled down, only needing a trickle of power to maintain itself. Which he barely paid attention to, because the cone strained almost to its breaking point. All the same, water rushed forth, a great gushing hammer breaking all in its path. Thankfully, a rather insightful wind mage had helped to tweak the spell, to turn down the sound. Or redirect it, anyway.
He glanced at Elly, satisfied when her expression turned slack. The beam continued for some four hundred feet before losing cohesion, and he slowly turned the portal sideways, away from the ships.
They were too far to hit, but better safe than sorry. As it turned, he narrowed the cone, pressing his will against it until the hammer turned into a beam. An inch across, it sliced through the air, keening loud enough he had to shout. "What ya think?"
"I think you're not using that during our spar," she shouted back, her expression forcefully returned to normal. "But fuck me, husband, what in the Hells inspired that?"
He closed the portal, watching the beam vanishing into the distance. "Math."
"An unnatural abomination is what you are." Elly huffed, crossing her arms. "Mages."
Marcus felt a grin take over his face. "Are you jealous?"
"No," she denied, a touch too quickly. His grin widened, and Elly groaned. "Alright, fine, I was having fun pretending you people weren't quadratic monsters, and now you've ruined it."
He tilted his head. "Pardon?"
"Warriors are linear, wizards are quadratic," she repeated. Marcus offered a confused shrug. "Huh. Well, it was a saying back home. Point is, with each new matrix added, mages grow exponentially. Life enforcement, on the other hand, is slow refinement with infrequent bursts of power. Linear versus quadratic."
"It can't be linear if there are infrequent bursts of power."
She shot him an annoyed glare, and he held up a placating hand. "Sorry. Are you upset I got it to work? I didn't mean to upstage you, or—"
"Oh do shut up," she muttered, leaning her head on his shoulder. Marcus stilled, not entirely sure how to react. "I'm not upset that you're growing powerful, not really. It just pokes my competitive side, and I don't want us to be rivals. Now stop mentally wringing your hands and beat the shit out of me already."
Marcus coughed, somehow managing to choke on his tongue. "Don't say it like that. Silent Gods, woman."
"What?" Elly replied innocently. "You haven't heard about people who liked to be—"
He teleported away, because he had not, and would continue to not, hear about them. She could mock him for being pure and innocent all she wanted, some of the things he'd learned had actually made him shudder.
It was also a sign to commence with the spar, though Elly started with a very polite arrow at his feet. A warning, but also a question. If he didn't move, she'd wait until he did. She was nice like that.
Marcus moved, and had to immediately teleport away, the whine of her blade already ringing in his ears. The day was clear and the terrain fairly flat, which gave him the advantage, but in truth, it would do little more than equalize them.
She could complain about being linear all she wanted, her full power was a thing to behold. Usually from where she'd knocked him into the dirt.
His only real consistent way of winning was waiting her out, because after a few minutes, she was forced to slow. Well, not forced, but pushing that limit produced injuries that needed actual time to heal, not a quick visit to the healers.
Elly appeared, throwing a knife almost at the same time as her blade came for his leg. He stepped over the blow, instinct guiding him where sight was far too slow, and retaliated with a spatial arc. It was a thing of weak power and blunt edges, as was befitting of a spar.
Which didn't matter, because she twisted under it without so much as slowing. Marcus cursed, watching her palm another knife.
Fine then. Time to see if he could get lucky.
He let go of his usual defensive suite, weaving together his third—and final—sixth tier spell. His reserves dropped, dipping to just below half, and Elly's eyes widened. But she had cleared some space, which meant that even though the weave wasn't quite combat ready, it snapped into place just in time.
The layer of form fitting shielding that draped over his armor was gone, now replaced by half an inch of stretched space. Half an inch to his eyes, two miles in reality. Elly's knife entered and dropped to his feet, her blade entering moments later. It stopped dead in its tracks, not nearly long enough to actually reach him.
It was a somewhat confusing spell to watch, even to him.
She kicked him, because she was a child, which accomplished about the same her blade had. Nothing. Elly pouted. "I hate that spell."
"Complete immunity," he bragged, spreading his arms. If she could pout, he could be a dick. "Try all you might, my defenses are impregnable. Fall before me— No, wait—"
Elly ignored him, her arms a near blur. Her sword was sheathed, bow fetched, and arrow nocked. Marcus cursed, dropped the spell and teleported away. Two miles was a lot, but it wasn't enough to stop that thing. And while he was all but immune to melee attacks, it took all six of his matrices.
Facing Elly mace to blade, even if she couldn't technically hurt him, was begging to be humiliated. He would know, considering that's what had happened the first time the gamble had succeeded.
He was getting better at the timings, though. If he failed, the spar was over. If he succeeded, it was a point in his favor. Fifty fifty, these days. Practice would improve that figure further.
But for now he ran, because Elly wasn't overly shy about shooting him. He had good armor, she reasoned, and was a proficient healer. He thought she just wanted to make more jokes about penetration.
That woman was a terror to clean, innocent words.
Marcus skittered to a stop, dodging a punch by inches. His mace swept by her side, which she danced around with ease, and another arc was jumped over. The followed up copy she twisted away from, despite being in mid air. How? Fuck if he knew.
He teleported up, buying precious seconds to think. Her time was running out, but so were his reserves. At this point it was a race to see who would tire, though his limits were quite a bit more absolute than hers.
Then he spotted a troop of Royal Guards riding towards them, watched one of its mages jerk to the side, and he knew his playtime was over. Something was going on, though he was too far to see, and he wasn't about to stand back and watch.
He moved down, a confused Elly putting her blade to his throat. He pushed it aside with a finger. "The Royal Guards followed us—shocking, I know—but they found something. Not sure what."
"We just got here," she complained, sheathing her weapon. He whisked them up into the air moments later, keeping them there so Elly could see. She shrugged while they fell, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. "They're surrounding a spot of empty grassland."
Marcus offered a shrug in turn, moving them closer. It didn't take long to reach the group, three dozen strong and in the process of preparing for combat. Their horses had been sent running, though with the quality of mounts his guards enjoyed, it would only take a whistle to bring them back.
More importantly, they were fighting on foot, which meant they didn't want to be mounted. Marcus stopped himself from guessing, placing both himself and Elly near the group instead.
Their lieutenant turned towards them, a bear of a man with tense shoulders. He approached, snapping off a crisp salute before speaking. "My king, my queen. My mages detected a Burrower tunnel a hundred feet down. We are moving to investigate."
"So close to Redwater?" Elly asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who found it?"
The man waved over one of the mages, who bowed in turn. "How may I serve?"
"Size, location and direction," she ordered. Marcus didn't bother looking for himself. Not only would it be a waste of power, neither divination nor earth magic was his specialty. "Are you waiting for an invitation?"
The mage bowed their head, while Marcus glanced at her. It seemed the interruption annoyed her more than he'd assumed. "Apologies, my queen. I was double checking the tunnel. It runs towards the Empire, though I cannot say if it is a direct route to the Dungeon. Typical size, and it is running past Redwater and towards the sea. I detect Champions inside, between fifty and one hundred. Closer to the latter than the former."
"That's why no one caught it until now, I assume," Elly replied. "The plan?"
The lieutenant replied, his tone seeming almost to reverberate in his chest. "They lack a Burrower, which either died or retreated, but either way they're stranded in a tunnel of stone. The group is digging up. It will take them another few days to reach the surface. I plan to create an opening and funnel them into a killing field."
"I see," she said. Marcus raised an eyebrow when she glanced at him, but she nodded before he could speak. "Continue as planned, lieutenant."
The man saluted, moving back to his men when Marcus didn't object. He turned to her when they were alone. "I could take care of this in minutes. Less, if I burned through my remaining reserves."
"You could. So could I." Elly tugged him back, seemingly towards a small hill. "We're going to watch instead."
He kept silent for a moment, then hummed. "I assume you have a reason for needlessly risking their lives?"
"Yup, and I'm trying to find a way to say it without coming across as insulting."
"I thought we agreed my ego was healthy and under control?"
Elly sighed, nudging him. He teleported them to the hill, just far enough up and away to give a good view. She spoke after another long second. "You're afraid to use the Royal Guard."
"Pardon?" Marcus replied, turning to her fully. "How is that an insult? Or, you know, true? I use them all the time."
"You use them, but you don't use them. With the mages now in their ranks, and the equipment they're getting from the Academy, their order can honestly boast to field the best fighters in the kingdom. But training and toys can only get you so far, no matter how good either are. You need to let them fight, which they haven't done since the invasion. Not really."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not asking me to let them die, I know that, but it really does sound like it."
"They guard an Archmage," she shot back, posture shifting. She wasn't going to let this go, he realized. "I had the same problem back on Parna when I started growing past my peers. It was so easy for me to take care of any potential issue that my guards turned into little more than decoration. Which was fine, until I was wounded, and then I lost nineteen people because they weren't prepared for me not to be there."
That— That was a point. Not a good one, maybe, but a point. "People might die. Will die, if I make a habit out of that."
"They will," she agreed quietly. "The choice is between some of them dying now, or all of them dying later. That, or disbanding the order. What can't happen is continuing down this path."
Marcus kept silent, not liking that argument for reasons he couldn't name. Hells, he couldn't even say he agreed. But she trusted him when it came to magic, and while there was that nagging instinct to trust his own judgement over hers, that was pride talking.
He sighed. "Fine. I don't like it, but fine."
"Thank you," Elly replied, tone so quiet it was almost a whisper. Louder, she said. "Looks like they're about ready."
They did appear to be about ready. Four of the mages were standing in a rough circle, the others arranged around them in a wider copy. Marcus grunted. "I will step in if they look to be losing."
"Well, yeah," she tilted her head. "I didn't mean to imply you should watch them get slaughtered."
Marcus didn't reply, though not because he was upset. No, the mages were starting, and each of them looked to be employing third-tier earth spells. From the feel of it they used something close to a ritual, though not quite.
Either way, their power combined, and a steep slope was dug into the earth, going down and down until nothing could be seen. The mages kept pouring power into the working, exhausting themselves, but that seemed to be the plan.
The moment they were done the mages stepped back, and shield-using Royal Guards stepped up in their place. Unlike before, their shields were made from bone, and so were the shorter swords used alongside them.
He inhaled the magic, finding a minor absorption and cutting enhancement respectively. It wasn't anything like his mace, but each of the twenty warriors carried them. Yet it wasn't them that struck first.
Their lieutenant barked something, one that Marcus was too far away to hear, and a pair of different mages stepped forward. Fire was unleashed into the tunnel, quickly followed by horrified screaming. More and more they poured into their spells, until their reserves ran dry and they too retreated.
But Champions weren't stupid, even if they usually failed to employ proper tactics and strategies. Marcus himself had slaughtered entire hordes of them, had watched thousands of his soldiers clash with the monster's rabid fury. Stupid, though? Never that.
So when the Champions boiled out of that hole, it was while carrying the scorched corpses of their dead, shielding those behind them. Orcs were first in line, twisted homunculi of the proud fighters he'd once known.
The mundane Royal Guards took their charge with bellows of wordless noise, boots digging into the earth to stop the massive Champions. Boots that were enchanted to give more traction than they should.
Swords slashed out and shields bashed against flesh, the occasional blow they took in return lessened by their armor. Armor that was enchanted to absorb impact, much like their shields did. One Champion fell and then another, their numbers fully committed, which was when the last two mages acted.
One summoned a trio of great stone elementals, lumbering beasts of rock and weight. Those smashed into the orcs, flanking the occupied monsters. Yet the second pulled Marcus' attention instead, because her magic reached out towards the corpses.
The dead, broken flesh of Champions twitched upright, tearing into their own ranks with silent fury. He felt Elly stiffen beside him at the use of necromancy, though she didn't complain. Another corpse rose when the first was torn apart, then another, and another.
Four undead roamed the small battle, lunging at occupied orcs, before they and the elementals turned to the opening at the command of the lieutenant. Short, stocky dwarves tore into them, pickaxes and hammers breaking apart the stone soldiers.
The undead fared little better when elven arrows found their knees, dropping to the floor in uncaring heaps. Another barked command from the lieutenant saw more fire bathe into the tunnel, though the pulsing hair of the dwarves protected them.
Mirranian shields closed ranks, weathering the storm of projectiles that shot through the fire. But these were elven archers, and one of the attacking mages went down in a tangle of limbs. The soldiers next to the man dragged him away, yet another faceless mage tending to the wound.
Some five seconds later the wounded man was back on his feet, resuming his offensive with little more than a limp.
Marcus watched them fight, internally wincing when one then two soldiers fell. Dead before any healer could get to them, either by dwarven axe or elven arrow. The orcs had since been killed, now nothing more than a stockpile of material for the necromancer to work with.
A necromancer that seemed to favor speed, and indeed was turning out to be quite good at the art, but one that was about to run out of reserves. Them and most of the mages.
He was moments away from stepping in when the tide of monsters ceased, and the last stragglers were surrounded and slaughtered. It was a dispassionate affair, and finally, the lieutenant turned towards them.
The man raised a bloody sword in a silent salute, and Marcus bowed his head in equally silent acknowledgement.
One hundred and nine Champions, three dozen Royal Guards, and only three human deaths. Fourteen more than lightly wounded, five of which needed urgent attention. Elly nudged him and offered a smile, not quite a I told you so but definitely pleased.
Marcus kept watching while the three dead were secured to horses, and it marked the first time where he had done nothing while others died. It should have earned him nothing but scorn and accusations of cowardice, but instead he found the Royal Guards standing prouder than usual.
As much as he might ape their skill and fight at their side, he realized he would never quite understand soldiers.
Afterword
A self promotion, on my story? Preposterous. Yet here it is, and for a good cause, no less. Me. Specifically, I launched a new story! The link is below, and it's only on RoyalRoad for now. Any early follows, favorites and reviews are appreciated, as always!
Not to worry, Warcrowned isn't going anywhere, and neither have I grown bored with the story. In fact, it has a healthy backlog, so even should I drop dead right this instant, updates could continue for the next ten weeks. Which is rather grim, now that I say that out loud. Anyway! That's... Yeah that's all. Thanks!
New story link: The Call of the Hollow Men
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