27. WORKING THE PROBLEM


    I woke up in the tunnel and found Ehren still lying on the earthen floor next to me. I tried to sit up but stopped short, groaning as pain racked my body. I slowly moved into a sitting position, which brought both dizziness and a vice to my head. My whole body ached. Still, I knew this was better than waking up in a prison or being tortured in a Factory by Uof, the man who strangely, was also a machine. I still hadn''t had time to process this new reality.


    I looked back toward the tunnel entrance, where a little light peeked through a crack in the hidden door. No one had discovered us yet, and I wasn''t sure how long it''d been, but I was alive and free. For now.


    My head pounded with an ache I’d never felt before. My whole body felt as though it’d been pounded by hammers, up and down my arms, legs, and torso. Pain coursed through me, layering upon the deep exhaustion of too much magic use in too short an amount of time. Could this be The Weakness? Too much magic use for a prolonged period of time equaled pain throughout the body?


    While I pondered this in the darkness of this small tunnel I heard Ehren’s labored breathing—which meant he was alive. Somehow, I needed to get him to Lissa so she could treat his wounds. I hadn’t even had the time to look him over myself.


    I lit a small match where I sat, casting light over the tunnel, and looked closely at Ehren. I felt for his heartbeat, which felt slow but steady. His face appeared swollen and bruised, caked with blood. I couldn’t see any other major wounds on his body, but this wouldn''t be the place to treat them anyway. As much as I wanted to help, I didn''t have another spell in me right at that moment.


    So, I turned around and looked down the tunnel. I could either go and try to find help, or I could try to take him with me.


    In navigating a variety of resistance tunnels within Vale these past weeks, I recalled that this particular one led to small chamber ahead, which split off in multiple directions. If I took the tunnel on the right, it would lead me to a thoroughfare that would take me to the large underground space where the resistance spent most of its time. The fact that no one had found us yet meant others from the resistance found a different route down, some had been captured, or worse.


    Few other options presented themselves to me, so I scraped my way to my knees, and slowly, carefully began to drag Ehren along with me, as gently as I could, for both our sakes. He was breathing but otherwise, he did not respond or stir at all.


    Haltingly, while shuffling on my knees, I managed to get him into the small chamber at the end of the tunnel where a small table and a pair of chairs adorned the space. The room also opened up so that I could stand up completely.


    I took a deep breath, getting to my feet slowly, sensing my own loose hold on consciousness. For a moment, darkness clouded the edges of my vision again, and I steadied myself on by grasping the edge of the table. I breathed in and out slowly for a couple minutes, as my vision came back into focus. Then, it came back enough that I could grab Ehren’s armpits and walk backward, dragging him deeper into the larger network of tunnels.


    Perhaps half an hour later, I dragged Ehren into the large cavernous space where we’d held all our meetings and where even a portion of the mage’s training had taken place. I heard Dirk''s voice behind me, sounding like he was in discussion with a small group of men and women, handing out instructions.


    I gently laid Ehren down on the earthen floor, and turned to face the group. Dirk looked up as I did so, a palpable relief showing on his face when he saw me.


    “Mage!” he said, rushing to my side. “Thank the rivers you’re alive. Is Ehren alright?”


    “He needs treatment,” I said, breathing heavily, steadying myself on a nearby chair. “He has been unconscious since they knocked him out in the square. I don’t know what’s wrong.”


    Then, I sat down on the chair, and took a long, deep breath.


    “How did you even get to him?” he asked, his eyes wide. “We''d heard rumors, but we’d left the rooftop before we saw what happened to you. How did you reach him in the middle of the square?”


    While he spoke, a few of the men came over and lifted up Ehren, taking him into the next room where he could be treated. I saw Lissa follow them inside. Meanwhile, sweat beaded on my face as I sat as still as I could manage. I felt hot and feverish, again. Was this the same fever I’d had before, or a new one?


    “I got to him and moved him to safety, but I only barely got out of there,” I replied between breaths. “What happened to you? Is everyone alive and safe?”


    “It’s been four or five hours, and not everyone is back yet,” Dirk said. As he spoke, I noticed a large gash on his forehead, and blood covered his shirt. “We split up and were chased. The city is in absolute chaos tonight. People roam all over Vale looking for mages and resistance fighters. Regular citizens drag suspects through the streets on vague suspicions. Some of those who would have joined us have turned on us. I fear that some of our trusted resistance members have been captured or killed.”


    I looked at him, leveling my gaze. “Is it even safe to be here, Dirk?”


    “I don’t think so," he hung his head, obviously exhausted too. "We were just discussing when we should leave the city.”


    “Bend, Greer, Willow, Briar, and Shade?” I asked, starting to feel heat creep up my body from the wound in my side, as well as small pains elsewhere, probably from the various close explosions I''d faced earlier.


    He took a deep breath, “Greer and Shade are alive, they’re still helping others get to safety. But Briar has not made it back yet and Willow is being treated and recovering. Bend was overconfident, and Uof’s goons wounded him in a battle on the streets outside the market square—some of them heavily armed. Bend wanted to stand and fight even though I kept telling him that we needed to run. Greer and I brought him in after an explosion knocked him down.”


    “Is he conscious?”


    “Yes,” he replied. “He was knocked out for some hours, but he woke up and should be fine to move soon.”


    I winced, my own pain growing so severe that the darkness threatened to take over again as it clouded my vision.


    Ehren, Willow, and Bend were all wounded. More resistance fighters had been killed or kidnapped. Uof had the resistance on the run. This was retaliation for our excursion to his Factory—amongst other things. He was angry that we''d freed some mages, and penetrated his secrets for the first time. But what did we actually learn? How was all of this worth it if we were losing people to his thugs and the mob of citizens he had strategically turned to his cause? Even though I could barely stand, I knew exactly what I had to do.


    “Are you okay Mage?”


    I nodded slowly, nausea threatening to assert itself and overthrow my handle on reality. The pain in my body ran throughout now, but I forced myself to keep my eyes open and awake.


    “We need to try to figure out the workings of the spell I saw the mages using inside The Factory,” I said carefully, remembering the mages we''d freed, who were still at our desert outpost. “When we get to the desert outpost, we can talk to the mages we freed about what these spells do. But until then, I can try it here. Uof is scared, which means we’re close… to something. If we can figure out how they create their hybrid weapons, perhaps that will give us an edge to take him down for good.”


    Dirk nodded. “What do you need?”


    “First, I just need to sit here for a moment,” I said. It was difficult to find a position that didn''t hurt. “Bring Greer and Shade to me. I might need them to help me figure this out.”


    Dirk looked at me, concern on his face. “Should I have Lissa check on you? You’re sweating and your face is whiter than a bleached bone in the desert.”


    I shook my head. “No, I think I’ll be alright.”


    “Okay, I will find them.” Dirk left the room. I watched him go, and then slowly, got to my feet. I had to try this spell before I could no longer stand and cast anything at all.


    I drew a unique piece of limestone from my pockets. I drained the rock of its inconsiderable matter, and it whisked away into nothing. Then I carefully wove the spell that I’d seen the mages in Uof’s warehouse casting into their machines, and over each of their weapons. I wasn’t sure I had everything right in the casting.


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    I triggered the spell and waited. Nothing happened.


    I closed my eyes and thought through once again what I had seen in The Factory only a few days before. It almost felt like I’d seen it years before. Still, I recalled the mage’s movements, his hands, his legs, and even his face. Had he said anything? He had not. But he had been seated during the casting, which changed the movements.


    So, I sat down and tried the spell again. The matter from the limestone rock remained available to me in the air, so I used it as I drew on the Source. Then I performed the spell again just as I’d seen it, and triggered it.


    Again, nothing happened.


    I thought about it again, went over the mage’s movements methodically in my mind. I had all the movements correct. However, as I thought through each step, I realized that he had cast the spell onto a long rifle — and the spell embedded itself into the piece of equipment. The spell would power the device, I realized then.


    I went searching. We had a small cache of motorized weapons in the corner, but those wouldn’t do any good. They were already embedded with this spell. So, instead I drew a regular non-motorized crossbow into my hands and wondered what would happen with this simple, wooden weapon. Would the spell work?


    Now, however, the matter from the piece of limestone dissipated, so I drained a clear crystal, a clear polygonal shaped mineral, drew on the source, and the spark coming from me, and moved carefully through the motions again, one simple movement after another. Then, I triggered the spell and cast it onto the crossbow itself.


    A steaming discharge lit up into the air, and I felt a thrill as the spell worked—giving me a needed rush of adrenaline to help me stay awake and upright.


    I picked up the crossbow and pointed it toward a burlap target in the corner of the room. When I depressed the trigger, the crossbow whirred, and cranked, and launched an arrow toward the wall with more force than was normal for a crossbow—and immediately following that the weapon discharged dribbles of dirty, oily liquid down my arm.


    Where had that discharge come from?


    In that instant I sensed the purpose of the spell and I understood for the very first time how the hybrid machines worked. I sat with the realization for a few seconds, letting it settle into me. As I did, the hairs on my arms stood straight up.


    I felt shock, but even more, horror when I realized the greater implications of the spell. Sitting there in the cave below the city of Vale, I understood that the world was in deep trouble.


    Greer flicked his hands, casting the same spell onto a different crossbow, and a sizzling burst of steam leaped from his hands, evaporating into the air.


    I sat on the wooden chair, grasping it tightly with both hands next to my legs as it kept my orientation facing the right way. A wave of vertigo threatened to overwhelm me every few minutes.


    Lissa had come to me earlier and given me a wad of leaves to chew on, which helped with the pain I felt. Her face bore the worried look some adult children get for their elderly parents when they''ve worked themselves too hard. She''s also checked me for shrapnel of any kind and bandaged up a few areas on my legs and arms, otherwise, I was clear.


    “Shade, did you follow the spell?” I asked through my haze.


    “Yes, it’s drawing steam or moisture from somewhere and sending it somewhere else,” she said. “I followed the movement, the casting, but I couldn’t see exactly what happened. Then, there''s an oily discharge that comes back and spits all over the user of the weapon.”


    “Could you repeat the spell after watching Greer cast it?” I asked.


    She nodded.


    “Greer, what did you sense in the casting?” I said.


    “It’s a very weak spell,” Greer growled. “It felt as though it should have generated a geyser’s worth of steam and energy, which would transfer to the crossbow. However, the power I felt come from the spell itself, was quite small. Not proportionate to the rarity of the matter, which means that something is wrong with the spell, or the number of casters are very, very many.”


    “Anything else?”I asked.


    He paused trying to form the right words. “I sensed that the source for the steam that powered the crossbow was everywhere.”


    “Everywhere,” I repeated, nodding. “That is what I sensed as well.”


    “But Mage, what would this do to the crossbow?”


    “Look at it," I said, having already studied the first crossbow. "It increases its firing power of the weapon by installing a small reusable steam engine in the device—this is why they call them hybrid weapons. They are part machine and part magical device, which is ironic considering how Weer and Uof sought to outlaw and destroy the magic of the Way.”


    Greer nodded, looking thoughtful.


    “What about the mystery of the weak spell?” I asked.


    Shade spoke up first, “The mystery of the weak spell should indicate that the spell is common; it is known and being used by many mages at once.”


    “Yes, but there were only thirty or so mages in Uof’s warehouse, maybe a few more at most,” I said. “They were chained to the machines, which appeared to be forging weapons or tools. These mages wouldn’t be enough to dampen the power of a spell significantly—even fifty or a hundred mages wouldn''t affect it too much."


    “Maybe there are more mages somewhere who know the spell,” Shade replied. “What if we only saw the first shift or a smaller part of the larger army of mageslaves?”


    “Possible,” I replied, almost whispering. I breathed carefully, trying to not breathe too deep for the pain it caused.


    “But how are they using this particular spell to create weapons?” Greer asked.


    “I think that is the question,” I replied, with a small smile.


    Shade bit her lip.


    “If the spells are what power the motorized tools and weapons and moving bikes and machines,” she began, grasping something larger. “And if every hybrid weapon or tool Uof ever created, all over the world, uses that same spell, it would explain the weakness you sensed in casting the spell.”


    “Yes,” I nodded, swallowing gently. “If Weer embedded the spell into every one of his motorized weapons, then as we suspect, this spell gives these weapons a form of steam power. Every motorized weapon, tool, or steam cycle draws on this steam power spell. Even Uof’s very own mechanized body. However, the uniqueness of each weapon or tool’s design can’t overcome the over-reliance on a single spell. This would mean Uof’s own body is likely much weaker, and not truly as immortal as he thinks it is.”


    I watched Greer and Shade muse on this. What did this mean? What were the broader implications? I had been thinking on these questions for hours now. If the spells were embedded in each weapon or tool, every piece of hybrid machinery on the planet, of which there were thousands, Uof himself was in trouble.


    “Perhaps Uof does not actually realize how his own factory works,” Greer said, his eyes bouncing around the room. "Especially if Weer built it and Uof inherited it.”


    I nodded. “Good, that my was my theory too. What does the information tell us?”


    “What if we could embed the very same spell in other machines and weaken the spell even further?” Shade suggested. “Eventually their weapons would be nearly useless.”


    “That is an idea, Shade,” I replied. “Remember, it’s a curve, the weaker a spell gets the less another user will affect the weakness. Imagine the tens of thousands of hybrid weapons, tools, and machines that exist in the world today. It would take many thousands more to dampen the weakness much more.”


    But Shade wasn’t done working the problem.


    “What if we could create a counter spell of some kind?” she said, looking down at her hands, almost as if trying to create a spell then and there. “Some kind of spell that blocked the machine’s ability to work or blocked this particular spell from drawing on steam power.”


    “It could probably work locally, on one weapon at a time,” I said, nodding. “And that would help us combat them individually, face to face. That could give us a defensible method for one-on-one fighting. Shade, work on some ideas for such a counter spell.”


    She nodded and smiled a determined smile. She now had something to work on, instead of just thinking about the new threats we faced as of today.


    “We need to start collecting hybrid weapons and tools, stealing them wherever we can find them,” I told Greer and Shade. “Then we must destroy them—all of them—because we have a much bigger problem.”


    “What bigger problem?” Dirk asked, his voice surprising me. I hadn’t realized he’d been listening in from the other side of the room. He and Bend walked over and took chairs, Bend hobbling as he did so. Others stood at the periphery of the room, also listening in.


    “Think about the cumulative effect of this spell on our world,” I said, stopping to cough loudly before continuing. “We now know that this spell draws water to create a magical form of a steam-powered engine, sends it all somewhere else, and then discharges an oily substance that is no longer water. If this spell is embedded into each and every hybrid weapon and cycle or tool or machine in the world, including Uof’s own body, it has to draw its matter from somewhere to create the steam that powers these weapons."


    I paused. "It is my theory that The Motorized, for several decades at least, have drawn on the water in our atmosphere to create the steam power of every weapon, tool, machine, wagon, or cycle they’ve ever built. This spell draws water out of the atmosphere and into the steam engine on the weapon, then powers the weapon. The spell then sends the remaining water out, and elsewhere. We know that when matter dissipates after not being used for a spell, it goes into the Ether Dimension. That''s where I believe the water goes, and the Ether Dimension kicks back an oily discharge."


    I let this settle into their minds, while I caught my breath.


    "Now remember, this happens every time anyone uses an hybrid tool or weapon or cycle. Every single time it''s used, which is tens of thousands of times tens of thousands of tools and weapons. This would explain the rigorous and unending drought that plagues our entire world.”


    Silence fell over the room with a hush.


    “If this is true, it would explain much of the past several decades of suffering,” Dirk said softly.


    “Yes,” I met Dirk’s eyes. “In actuality, I now suspect that The Motorized are in fact, the very reason the world is a desert. And I have been to the corners of what is left of this world. It is dying.”


    Dirk took a moment to think on this, staring at me.


    “We need to share this with every citizen of Vale,” Dirk said. "With every last living person alive."


    I nodded and turned to the rest of the group.


    “Spread the word, everyone in Vale must know this,” I said. “We also need to get eyes on Uof. Where does he sleep, where does he go every day? This won’t be easy information to get. We also need to know whatever we can find out about this new ‘body’ of his.”


    “I know someone who might be able to help,” Bend said.