"I never did thank you, did I? For agreeing."
I grunt, eyes still trained on the portal. One hand is curled through
it, my skin melding to scales as the fingers dip around the
impossible fringe of the World, and the other is trying to find where
the tear ends and the World begins again. I''m not sticking my head
into this thing, seeing what lies beyond that eye-bending golden
shimmer, until I know how stable it is. Standard procedure. I even
have to get re-trained on it every two years, actually.
"Say that again?"
"Thank you for coming back, Am- <i>Ivy</i>. Yes, Ivy."
Winston says, eventually. He''s crept up on the portal now, hands
flickering with the rhythmic motions of Water. "The Restorers
might be a touch upset at your return, but Craumont certainly missed
one of its best fighters. I''m sure you''re even better, now."
"I doubt I could bend forged iron before, yeah," I chuckle,
grinning as my fingers find purchase on something. "I can take a
bigger bruising, too, and I just heal it off with a bit of magic."
"You must have Delved quite far, then?"
That <i>something </i>I felt earlier turned into proper resistance—
like finding where a frayed rope was still bound together. And, just
beyond that, the point where the World fused again, pushing backs
against the Delve.
Right. Delve depth.
"About two grand marches, I think," I say slowly, as if I
didn''t know my exact Delve record. One thousand nine hundred and
ninety eight point seven marches on the depth meter, but I counted it
as two grand on account of being tall. My feet were deep enough,
surely. Or my tail, if the depth was askew from gravity at the time.
I’d even notched it on my meter, though I hadn’t brought that
along for this. But I’m not planning on Delving just yet— I can
manage it and most weaker monsters with just my fists, thus not
bringing extra tools for the stabilization— I''ll spend some time
preparing my equipment and go in later today. Maybe tomorrow, even.
The protections should last far longer than that.
"That''s impressive, is it not? Twice the required depth to
become a registered Delver," Winston queries, "The contract
mage we had before was quite proud of his five hundred marches. Good
enough to find the Heart, he said."
With one hand on the fringe of the World, I bring my other hand to a
thin, shimmering tear, letting the World flow from one end to the
other. A few pinches and a touch of my own mana is enough to fix
that— one less point for the tearing to resume.
"For a non-Delver, five hundred isn''t bad," I admit, a
little impressed. "Not getting any particularly pure magic
crystals at that depth, though. He was just on to seal Delves, right?
Not harvest them."
"Sealing and patch work on the one we keep open, mostly. As you
may recall, Craumont doesn''t have many Mages—"
The portal ripples, golden fog parting and warping. The depth of the
world around us plunges, magic building and compressing. I can see
the guards staggering in my peripheral vision, and Winston takes a
moment to steady himself.
I push back with my magic, snarling as the seams strain against my
touch. A few marches of depth is nothing to me, be it underwater or
in a Delve. I vent my irritation on the floor, jabbing my tail into
the cracks repeatedly.
“Something’s trying to push through.” I say quickly, rolling my
shoulders. “Guard O— Guards. Spears up. If something comes
through, I’ll pin it, you <i>stab </i>it. Go for weak points,
generally joints. Winston?”
“Yes?” Winston says, raising his hands. The flicker of Water
turns to a torrent, streaming into spheres on his palms. I can see
Guard Two pushing herself up from kneeling out of the corner of my
eye, and Guard One isn’t far behind. I wonder which is Riverson and
which one is Park?
“Do, uh.” I pause. When was the last time I worked alongside a
pure Mage, no weapons? “Mage stuff. And keep talking if you can,
it’s good background noise.”
Winston lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a
huff. “Not a dreg of propriety in you these days, is there?”
“I still do wine tastings, actually.”
“Correctly?”
“Takes a full barrel of whiskey to get me drunk, and I don’t stay
that way. No need to spit out good wine.” I say with a tiny shrug.
I’m letting years of practice take the reins with my work, moving
from seam to seam with the precision of a good train schedule.
“A half-dreg of proper noble bearing, then. Perhaps I should invite
you to the next wine tasting at the Craumont estate?”
I chuckle, pinching closed the last seam on the portal. “Oh,
everyone would hate that. Especially me.”
The world... eases, is the best way to describe it. Like emerging
from deep water, or walking out of thick fog. The guards breathe twin
sighs of relief, and I can see Winston’s shoulders sagging as I
straighten and turn around. I take extra care to curl my tail so it
doesn’t slip into the portal.
“There’s your portal.” I say, pushing back a burst of pride in
my chest. I gesture at the shimmering oval. “We had a little scare
there, sure, but it’s now stable and ready for Delvers to stick
their heads in. More or less.”
Something crunches underfoot. Wood, from the sounds of it, and it
prompts me to take a proper second look at my surroundings. At the
chapel, with wrecked prayer seats and a few unpleasant looking cracks
in the windows. Oh, and the broken door, and the remains of the
monster outside, and so on. The mural is entirely intact though,
ready to traumatize little kids!
“Pity it’s in a chapel, though." I shrug, doing my best to
sound conciliatory. Is that the right word? “I’ll be back in
later, maybe tomorrow, to cut off the Delve Heart and seal this up.
You want this sealed completely, right?"
Winston runs a hand over his horns, which appear to have grown longer
from a mix of depth and magic use, though they’re shrinking back
down to a more manageable size as I watch. A quick look down confirms
my hands still have dark, sharp nails, but the scales are fading
quickly now.
“Hmm. Yes, unfortunately. I''m tempted to keep it open, and hire
someone to comb it for crystallized magic. I can''t spare the guards
to ensure nothing gets out into the city." Winston says. “Right.
You’re not prepared to enter now? I suppose I should keep the
guards posted here, shouldn’t I. Tripled detail, even, now that the
door is broken. And the apprentice mage is coming around soon... hm.”
He taps his chin, waving at the guards with the other hand. “I’ll
have six sent when I leave. I’ll have to notify City Works about
the door, allocate some gold from the disaster funding...”
As Winston trails off into mutters and lordly stuff, I go back to the
portal and inspect it.
And by inspect it, I mean stick my hand in it. Gives me a good idea
of how deep it is inside, and consequently how safe it’d be to just
hop on in for a bit. I stick my tail through it, too, but that''s just
to entertain myself. It feels cold, and just a touch slimy, which has
both my hand and tail exiting immediately.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“So what’s this about an apprentice mage?” I ask loudly. “I
heard you and one of the guards mention it earlier, and I’m
assuming you didn’t hire me to spite local mages.”
My cousin grimaces, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning
to pace. “There are no local mages. None in the profession, at
least. They’re from Farrier or Kestrel, and I’m afraid I’ve no
talent for teaching or apprenticing my own.”
“So how is this an apprentice?” I raise an eyebrow, pulling my
arm out of the portal. “Should be safe for them, at any rate. And
why would you be bringing them here?”
“To learn, of course, and not from a book for once.” Winston says
drily, cracking a grin that would look more at home on me than a
proper noble. “Those ‘big city’ mages despise being out here,
away from civilization. I’d rather not put more gold in their
hands.”
I match it with my own toothy grin, flexing my fingers and letting
out a little laugh. “And, let me guess, everyone hates them? Still
doing that fake Ard Judician accent?”
I let the trilling, rolling accent of central Ard Judicia bleed in,
jerking my chin up and cocking my head like a bird.
That gets a snort out of one of the guards, and a sigh from the
other. Winston matches that sigh with his own, rolling his eyes.
“I—”
“My lord! I’m— um. I’m so sorry for being late, I had to drop
off something at the church, and, and—”
Helena Harkness, apprentice mage, stumbles around the corner, nearly
tripping on a lump of twisted brass. Well, she does trip, but she’s
able to find her balance quite quickly.
Because of <i>course </i>it’s her. My tail lashes again, but I stop
it before it makes any noise.
Winston perks up, and then perks up more when he sees the dread on my
face. Gods, family suck. “Miss Harkness! It’s no trouble, truly.
The Delver arrived early, you see, and did her job much faster than
any we’ve hired before. As for the sealing of the portal, well.”
Turning his head slightly, he gestures my way. “This is Ivy
Crawford. Ivy, when do you plan on returning for the sealing?”
“Ivy?” Helena squeaks, her voice pitched upward. She shuffles to
the side to look at me. Or rather, her eyes are trained somewhere
above my head. “Oh.”
Oh, she says. It’s quiet, disappointed, and... ugh. I just give her
a nod. “We’ve met, Winston, no need for introductions. We’re...
hm.”
“Acquaintances?” Helena offers with a wavering smile. “I’m
sure I can work around her schedule.”
Something aches in my stomach. “Sure.”
“Excellent!” Winston claps his hands. “Guards, with me. Ivy,
Miss Harkness, I’ll leave the details to you two. Ivy, I''ll be back
in a bit, but if I don''t see you when you emerge, I''ll see you at
dinner tonight. Which, by the way, you are now invited to.”
He pauses only to level a silent glare my way: no funny business, it
says, don’t traumatize my mage. Or, who knows, maybe he’s still
mad about the clogs comment.
And like that, we’re left alone. Helena’s still hovering at the
doorframe, and I’m still a few paces from the portal. No real way
out except through her, not that would be a physical challenge.
“So,” I say, breaking the sudden silence. “Uh. Hi, Helena?”
“Hi, Ivy.” Helena replies. She runs a hand down her front,
drawing my eyes down to the plain, practical clothes she’s changed
into. She’s got a bag slung over one shoulder now with a few books
peeking out, completing the look of a mage doing field work.
“I’ve, um, thought about what you said, earlier.” Helena says
quietly, looking at her feet. There’s more, but it’s mumbled and
I can’t really understand it.
“And you can’t trust me, right?” I roll my eyes, smirking.
“That’s fine. I get it. Bet they told you some nasty stories,
back at your church.”
The silence is telling. Deafening, even. Lovely.
“What?” Helena stares at me, her voice suddenly quite loud.
“Restoration. I’m, I’m.”
I stride up to her, tail dragging on a few stray pieces of wood to
put some damned sound in this place. “You’re what?”
She takes a deep breath, says something quiet to herself, and then
locks my gaze with hers.
"I won''t stand for you threatening my friends and family, even
if I know why." She sucks a deep breath in, jerking her chin and
squaring her shoulders. "I— I’ve heard some stories, yes.
I’m not sure I believe them, but..."
There''s a sinking feeling in my chest. I push past it. This was,
after all, inevitable; I may as well just rip off the metaphorical
bandage. "I''m not apologizing for any of that, if that''s what
you''re hoping for."
"I''m saying, Ivy," Helena stresses, jerking her chin up and
taking a single step towards me. I take a half step back. "What
I''m trying to say is that right now, I don''t want to deal with that.
Can we just get on with the job?"
I had responses prepared. Several, actually. None of them would work
here. So I scramble, tossing words together and tossing more than a
few out, and give Helena a confused shrug.
"What''s so important about this? There''ll be more portals."
Helena''s gaze sharpens, her tongue running across her lips.
“Do you know how hard it was to get out here? Portals are
dangerous, and they weren’t having the little tailor girl <i>Eiches
</i>wander out to help some dangerous out-of-city Delver while Dame
Amelia Crawford is in the city. Dame Amelia Crawford, who I''ve never
heard of before today, but everyone at the Church is worried about
her. Ridiculous. At least Lord Craumont is understanding."
Helena storms past me, fists clenched. My jaw had slid open at some
point, and I take this moment to slide it shut. “Well.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you, and I don’t plan on being
a tailor and clothesmaker my entire life. Gods, that would be
miserable. So don’t tell me that you’re going to reschedule doing
the actual Delve!” She jabs a finger at me, her eyes sparking with
an inner fire.
A tiny, conditional hope swirls in my chest. Sure, I''d be paying for
my old mistakes for a while, but for now? “Well, it’s—”
“You’re a Drake, and I can reinforce your clothes to resist most
slashing and piercing. So, are we doing this, or not, Ivy?”
“Excuse me?” I bite back a snarl, tamping it down with
incredulity.
Helena closes her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh,
Restoration. There’s all these rumors, but you’ve been nothing
but kind to me. I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t,” I correct with a grunt, looking away. My tail
whips across the ground with a <i>clack</i>, sending wooden scraps
skittering away.
By her own words, we''ll probably just go our own ways when this is
done. But I''d rather we don''t walk away, just yet. Helena is far too
interesting for that... and trying to escape her own life, like I did
once.
A plan forms in my head. It''s a rough one, but it''ll do; this is a
low risk Delve and I''ve seen much worse.
“I suppose not, um.” Helena''s blush fades slightly. "I
really do need to think about it."
"Obviously." I gesture to the portal, picking my way
through the splintered seats to stand over by Helena. "You''ll be
rid of me after this Delve, not before."
“Oh, thank you, Ivy, really." Helena says politely, reaching
into her pack and pulling out a thick tome. “Yes, of course. I’ve
even practiced a few hard-edged structures that I can use with Wind
to damage the more solid ones, and...”
"I believe you." I cut in, raising an eyebrow. "You''ve
got skill with that stuff, I saw that this morning."
I try to crack an easy grin. It mostly works, and Helena doesn''t
flinch at all.
“It shouldn''t be too dangerous. Shallow, fresh Delve, and it''ll be
pretty quick.” I mull it over out loud, tapping my chin. “Fine.”
“I need to enchant your clothes, first.” Helena points out,
smiling as she gestures to my clothes. “They’re, um, too nice to
get destroyed?”
“Enchanting first,” I concede easily. “Then we Delve.”
“And I’ll need to review all my structures, too. We have to go
into this prepared!”
I tilt my head to one side, fixing her with a single eye. “Weren’t
you the one saying ‘Are we doing this or not’, Helena?”
She turns a fascinating shade of tomato red, her words dissolving
into incoherent mumbles. I can''t help but smirk at it.
<hr>
Judging by the sundial outside, it ends up taking us a full hour to
finish preparations. Helena''s got her enchantments and spell stuff,
and going over a few basic strategies takes a bit of time on its own.
Without my equipment, I have to focus on using my magic to heal— an
expensive task, and running magic through my body now is a good
warm-up.
I''d like to say something interesting happened, but it really was
just prep work. At least we''d moved to a bench outside the chapel for
most of it— no matter who you are, standing on hard flooring for an
hour is just unpleasant on the feet.
Oh, but now my clothes are a whole lot tougher, thanks to Helena. She
does pretty good work, especially for someone without formal
training.
Right as we''re moving back inside, though, a sudden thought occurs to
me. An entertaining one, on top of being important.
"Hey, Helena," I say, kicking aside a lump of wood. "Do
you still have any of that fruit loaf, or did you give it all to your
friends?"
Helena smiles slightly, then pulls about a quarter of a fruit loaf
out of her bag. "Friends and the rest of the church, of course,
but I saved a little for a snack. Priest Dongbaek really liked it.
Why, are you hungry?"
"Thanks," I say, a bit surprised. It''s actually pretty
tempting, but she''ll definitely need it more than I do. "But no.
You''ll want to eat all of that."
She blinks, but takes a delicate bite without hesitation, wiping
crumbs off her hand. "Okay. But, um, why?"
"You do <i>not </i>want to get hungry inside a Delve, Helena."
I say, moving to stand right next to the portal. A slight grin
crosses my lips. "An empty stomach gives people cramps in a
Delve. Bad ones."
She frowns. "Really? How bad?"
"Worse than the monthly cramps some women get, even if they’re
around the stomach instead," I gesture at myself, tapping my
stomach and then my midsection. "I''ve even had a man give me his
<i>condolences</i>, after his first experience."
Helena pales, going white as a sheet, and crams the rest of the loaf
into her mouth.
I do my best to not laugh at her, but my best isn''t particularly
good.