Chapter 249 - The Last Leg

“Move back,” Feng shouted, terrified, and Jei moved back along with the carvaneers. She was also terrified, but she was better at not showing it. Mirian and the strange Persaman necromancer she’d found stood before the emperor tree. Were they fools? Or did they simply not know what kind of myrvite they were facing?

She still couldn’t believe this was Mirian. Mirian, who she’d known for four years. The shy girl who was always doubting herself. The one who had only been allowed to advance as a sixth year because artificers were allowed to hit a lower minimum myr rating than other arcanists. The sweet girl who reminded Jei of her sister—or what her sister could have been, if not for the accident.

Sometimes, she doubted this was Mirian, because while she looked the same, she acted so different. Then she would look at Jei, her gaze softening with nostalgia, and she would see something of the student she knew. Or rather, had known.

Jei placed herself behind a tree trunk, one hand on a marusaur, the other holding her orb. Her auric mana was bare enough she could barely sense it, but she still might be able to manage a single spell.

Gabriel ducked behind a tree near her, swearing in at least two languages, probably three.

As Jei felt the ambient mana around them shift ominously, she repeated her mantra.

Your death does not matter. All that matters is how you might affect the future.

Mirian had told her she’d spent entire cycles dedicating herself to her former student. Before her was the result.

The emperor tree’s branches began to move. Vines shot down to grab at the three fighters. While Ibrahim cut two away in rapid strikes, Mirian burned away a dozen, sending out blinding rays of fire and force blades. Whatever the necromancer was doing, she had no idea. She still didn’t trust the man, but it was clear Mirian did.

Trust, she repeated to herself. You will not be able to see the whole equation. Trust that she will.

Dozens more vines wilted, blackening before they could reach the three.

There was a groan as the earth trembled. Jei looked down. “Back! Farther back!” she shouted.

Spiked roots erupted out of the ground, just as the emperor tree began to rain down thick needles the size of an arm. Grotesque appendages erupted from the trunk as the ‘tree’ lifted itself up. She glanced back. Mirian had put up some sort of barrier that stretched for a dozen meters and was catching the needles. Then the needles began to explode, bursting into a thick white gas and spiked chunks of matter.

Jei stopped, unsure of what to do. She couldn’t see Mirian anymore. But what could she do against something like that? Her aura was nearly depleted. She might be able to stop a single needle or root.

Your death does not matter. All that matters is how you might affect the future.

She did what she could.

As another spiked root burst from the ground beneath where she thought Mirian might be, she shot a searing beam at the base. It cut the root, and the chunk fell to the ground. Then, that was it. She was empty.

Meanwhile, the world around them had become chaos. The white cloud condensed and swirled into an orb, which then burned away. Mirian reemerged, spells erupting from her like a storm. Lightning flashed and thunder roared, and for a moment, she was blind and deaf, ears ringing. As they moved back further, entire trees toppled, spells snapping them like they were sticks. The ground trembled again and again.

The emperor tree had become like a thousand-limbed beast, branches woven into needles, vines into arms. They smashed against Mirian and Atrah, moving ever closer to them with strange root-feet. Again, the canopy burst into a storm of needles and the two of them disappeared, only for them to appear a moment later in bursts of fire and lightning that flung back the emperor tree. Vines and branches wilted and fell, only to be replaced by new ones that thrashed through the air at them.

Ibrahim came flying across the jungle, smashing hard enough into the ground that he left a trail of churned earth. Jei thought he was dead for sure, but then he grunted and stood up. “Five hells,” he muttered. Seeing Jei, he jerked his head. “Farther back,” he said.

The earth shook again, and more trees toppled. Then the trunks exploded. Suddenly, Ibrahim was in front of Jei. When he turned, she realized he was covered in wooden splinters the size of pens. He didn’t curse, didn’t even wince. “Move,” he commanded.

Jei moved, scrambling over a fallen log and then running another dozen meters.

There was an unearthly scream from the emperor tree, one that didn’t just tear at her ears, but her mind, and she couldn’t help but look again. Immediately, she had to cover her eyes from the brightness. The forest floor, usually dark, was lit up like the sun was behind them. Behind her, the entire area near the emperor tree was full of such powerful spells detonating that it was impossible for her to tell what was going on. And that was only what she could see. She knew another battle was being fought at the level of the soul, with necromancy and celestial magic clashing in equally titanic spells.

Ibrahim stood near her, eyes glued to the fight, picking more splinters out of himself, ignoring how much blood was coming out.

Then, there was a flash of light and waves of heat. A colossal pillar of fire came down. Through it, Jei could see the silhouettes of two figures.

Ibrahim took in a sharp breath. “There’s that fire again,” he said.

The burning light intensified. More heat poured over them, and then—it was gone.

The world was still. Her ears still rang, and she still saw spots when she blinked, but it was over.

Jei’s heart hammered in her chest.

Two figures remained in the air, descending down towards them. Both were unmarred by flame. The necromancer levitated with a casualness that was intimidating, and a bored look, like he’d just returned from giving a routine lecture. Mirian had a subtle smile on her face. A look of triumph. She looked down at Jei and Ibrahim, her spellbook in front of her, her eyes blazing silver. She raised a hand, and the splinters in Ibrahim came to it, then dropped to the ground. Then, light washed over him, and his wounds sealed. All around them, she realized, wounds were being healed. Without even looking, Miran rearranged the trees behind her that had crashed to block the path. She slid them around like a child playing with blocks, and the road was open again, now lined by a wall of trunks.

“Feng, gather the caravan,” she said. “The emperor tree is dead.”

Feng, who had been hiding behind a mound of dirt, stood. As he walked by Jei, she heard him whisper, “She is Sun Shuen come again.”

Jei no longer knew what to think. Mirian had become something so far beyond her that it seemed impossible to reconcile her with the promising student she’d known. She swallowed, and took her place back in the line.

You will not be able to see the whole equation. Trust that she will, she repeated. 

She hoped that it was true.

** *** **

Mirian looked over the casualties. Two dead marusaurs, but all the people had escaped with only broken bones and lacerations, which she’d healed. She glanced at her father. “Feng, do you want the dead marusaurs brought back?”

Feng looked at her, stunned, then looked at the two dead animals. “What do you mean? It would be silly to bring back Plum and Peony. They’re… dead. That’s what happens… best to take the bags and leave—”

“I have their souls stabilized for the moment,” the arch-necromancer said. “Would you rather see them alive, or would you like to mourn and move on? The choice is yours.”

Feng looked at the group, then swallowed. There were tears in his eyes. The marusaurs were his good companions. Raised and trained since they were hatchlings. He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. He gave the faintest nod.

“Very well,” her father said, and began to cast.

Mirian watched, studying her father’s technique, helping where she could. This is good, she thought. Enough power and awe, and you can cut through the social taboos that are holding people back.

She looked at Ibrahim. His expression was intense, his gaze fixed on the marusaurs as Gaius worked. She could see the emotions churning in him, powerful enough that they were causing distortions in his soul.

He’s thinking of his wife, she knew. Again, she felt guilty. She now knew of a source of relicarium. She could get him a soul-bound focus. But I don’t trust you yet. And you don’t trust me. 

She refocused on the task at hand: rebinding the soul to the body. Using it as a blueprint to repair what was damaged. It was simple to say, and hellishly difficult to do. Occasionally, Gaius murmured corrections on something she was doing. Piece by piece, the marusaur’s soul came back together. Its leg was healed. Its torso, rebuilt. The bone mended. The skull that had been caved in, smooth and whole.

“The bones can be learned by rote, but the complexities of the organs, circulatory, and brain—the soul must be the guide for them. Only it knows what should be there. Let it build. Merely feed it the energy it needs.”

And then the first marusaur’s eyes were no longer glazed open. It blinked.

Feng knelt on the ground. “What are you?” he whispered again in awe. The marusaur seemed stunned, but soon enough, it came over to nuzzle at the veteran guide.

Gabriel looked at Mirian. He was covered in mud. He picked a stick out of his hair. “I give up. Tell them whatever you want.”

“There’s no hiding it now. Prophets,” she said.

Feng shook his head in disbelief. “Those aren’t real. Just stories.”

Ah, in denial. She knew the type. She wouldn’t waste words trying to convince him. He would go through what he’d seen and convince himself soon enough.

She and Gaius went to work on the second marusaur.

***

The cave was just behind where the emperor tree had been, as Feng had said. They went around the crater to get in. The ground was still hot, though no longer molten. Much of it had cooled into obsidian, the rest, blackened and charred beyond recognition. The caravaneers clutched their lucky symbols as they passed and whispered prayers.

The cool air of the caves was a relief. Mirian used divination to check their route. There was another cave maw, hiding slightly off the route in a secondary cavern. She killed it, then, satisfied the rest of the cave was safe, finally de-manifested her spellbook. Her auric mana had gotten worryingly low in the last fight.

Ibrahim was still deep in thought. He kept looking at her, then Gaius. 

There’s another thing I’ve shown him: that if he goes to war with me, he’ll lose. And he knows it now. He’s just wondering if Atrah Xidi would be enough to stop me, and if he is, how long that would last.

She glanced at Gabriel, who had been silent.

Is he convinced, I wonder? Or does he still think subterfuge and manipulation will direct nations on the paths he thinks they should walk?

She had Emperor Xecatl. She had Sio Jherica. Bit by bit, she would bring these two around. They would see the truth: only cooperation among the Prophets would see them through this crisis. Then, with every other Prophet allied against her, she would drag Liuan Var into seeing reason too.

And soon enough, we’ll know if Zhighua has anything useful to our endeavors.

***

They spent the rest of the day moving through the twisting caverns beneath the southern Jiandzhi. The next day, they reemerged into the damp heat of the jungle, and Mirian began her butchery of the wildlife again. They followed a tributary of the Dahua River, walking along the steep slopes and plunging cataracts. Another pack of petal demons tried to ambush them, but she slaughtered them. The second encounter with a lesser titan, they were able to avoid. It was busy eating an oniwyrm it had caught, and so it wasn’t interested in them.

Then, as ambient mana levels changed and she began to detect faint leyline activity again, the anomalous myrvite behavior became less pronounced. They walked late into the evening, finally reaching Maotian, the stronghold past the last waterfall of the tributary. Tall earthen walls clad in stone rose up, and the watch called out as they spotted the group approaching.

“Tell everyone: no one goes north. Not for anything,” Feng told a gathering once they’d been let in. The rumors began flying immediately, despite the late hour.

By then, Mirian had veiled her eyes again with an illusion. She was grateful to be able to sleep on a real bed again. She was quite used to sleeping in the wilderness, but she still didn’t particularly like it.

Feng secured them passage south by boat. To Mirian’s surprise, he and most of the other caravaneers decided to join them.

When Mirian asked why, he said, “Is there anything more important we could be doing?”

There certainly wasn’t. She wondered if Jei had been talking to them, or they’d figured out enough of it on their own.

“Besides, my son is in Benansuo,” Feng added.

The next morning, they were on their way south. A few hours later, the tributary merged with another, then another, and then they were on the Dahua River.

Mirian was content to finally relax a bit. She admired her first glimpse of Zhighuan architecture. Soon enough, they passed by a large earthen wall that stretched across the north boundary of the province and farms started appearing. They passed groves of fruit trees, fields of grains and irrigated rice paddies, with various farm animals roaming about fields or posted up in barns. Some farmers stopped as they passed by and waved. Others kept working, not even glancing up.

The boat continued down the river through the night. There were small towns they could have stopped at, but Jei had already discussed the best place to start. “The Archives of Wongzho. If there’s ancient records, they’ll be there. The archivists are extremely knowledgeable.”

“Also, Wongzho Palace is where a bunch of Akanan RID are. They’ll be collecting reports from across the country,” Gabriel had said. “News always flows to Benansuo first.”

“What?” one of the caravaneers said. “The Akanans have sworn they don’t have any agents in the palace! It’s just administrators! We have a treaty…”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Of course they have them there. When you say a government is independent, that’s rhetoric for the masses. You don’t actually let them act independently. I swear, it’s like none of you have spent years honing an intense cynical realism about the world.” 

They continued to pass innumerable farms as they drifted down the Dahua. The farther south they got, the larger the towns, until a few days later, the capital city of Benansuo finally came into view. Now there was a sight to impress.

Benansuo was larger than Palendurio, though it wasn’t nearly as large as the coastal Akanan cities. Dominating the city was Wongzho, the absolutely colossal palace-castle complex that sat upon the north-most hill of the city. The fortress in the center was layered in tiers, with the central keep high enough up that Sylvester Aurum’s tower might be envious of the height. Below, the city’s neighborhoods were sometimes neat and organized, sometimes scrambled about in ways that made the Labyrinth look straightforward. 

The northern river docks were teeming with commerce coming from the rest of the central province, while in the distance, Mirian could see huge Akanan and Baracueli cargo ships tied up to the southern docks in the artificial bay. The smell of the ocean carried to them on a cool breeze. Everywhere, crowds of people moved about, some in traditional Zhighuan wear, some in more modern Akanan style.

As they pulled up to a dock, Mirian itched to simply fly up to the palace and start ransacking the archives, but she restrained herself.

“Home,” Song Jei said in a flat tone. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” Mirian agreed. “Let’s see what we can find.”

As Feng began talking with the officials to discuss the cargo and the docking fee, Mirian and the others headed towards the central castle.