Chapter 30:

Sasherey

*

When the air went from mild and com­fortable to frigid and biting, Haw­thorne in­stantly realized her mis­take. With a shiver, she threw a ward up around her­self to at least keep the wind at bay, but that did nothing to help with the cold. The wind out of her eyes at least, she looked around at where she’d wound up. Another Nexus surrounded her, with the runes ex­posed only because they’d app­ar­ently melted what­ever ice and snow had been covering them when they ac­­tiv­ated. Once it started snowing, they’d prob­ably end up getting covered up again. It prob­ably would have been nigh-impossible to locate the Nexus from this side.

A bright, blinding blue sky stretched overhead, with some traces of clouds in the dis­tance. Around her stood walls that she at first took for cliffs and rock for­mations, but they were too neat and reg­ular for that. A castle of some sort had been buried under­neath several inches of ice. The Nexus stood within its courtyard, leaving the runed walkways that went off in each dir­ec­tion to pass under arch­ways into the rest of the castle, al­though not all the walls are intact and only two of the exits still actually had arch­ways over them.

Well, this had been an ­in­ter­esting ex­periment, but she didn’t like this place and figured she might as well head back. She located the ac­­tiv­ation rune on the obelisk she thought corresponded to the one to ac­­tiv­ate the Nexus, and channeled mana into it. Nothing happened. Oh, right, she needed to power it up first. She went over to the one next to it and charged up the ac­­tiv­ation rune in that one. The runes on that obelisk began to glow faintly and remained glowing, but the rest of the com­plex stayed dark. Either it was broken, or that wasn’t the right obelisk either. Damn it.

Examining them more care­fully now, Haw­thorne went over to find the right obelisk, locating one she thought matched the right markings, al­though it was hard to be cer­tain since she couldn’t read them. Hoping this was the right one finally, she channeled mana into the ac­­tiv­ation rune. Same thing as before, only that obelisk lit up, and not the rest of it, and remained glowing faintly. Grumbling to her­self under her breath, she tried an­other one. The runes of the arcane com­plex around her flared to life and began to glow cyan. That was more like it. Once she got that powered up, she put mana into ac­­tiv­ating the obelisk dir­ectly to its right, to energy and stab­ilize it. She thought she was getting the hang of using this thing. Except… no further energy came into the Nexus and it didn’t seem to stab­ilize. Oh, right, that was what those mana foun­tains were for, wasn’t it. Okay, she could handle that.

Pulling her cloak tightly around her­self, Haw­thorne headed out through one of the standing arch­ways, giving it a sus­picious look as if warning it not to fall on her head. Outside the Nexus area, very little of the arcane ­con­struct could even be seen beneath piles of collapsed stone blocks. Whatever happened to this castle had not been kind to it. Would even an enemy siege bother to knock down even the interior walls that weren’t blocking any­thing? Or maybe they were try­ing to destroy the Nexus and, failing at that, just decided to collapse the whole castle on top of it. It was difficult to tell beneath the snow, but the stone the runes them­selves had been carved into seemed to be of a diff­erent type than that which the castle had been built from. It was prob­ably the same sort of mat­er­ial that made up Torn Elkandu, the sort that was supposed to be good at channeling mana and difficult to damage.

She hoped at least some­thing was intact, or she was going to freeze to death out here. Why hadn’t she been wearing one of those enchanted items that protect against cold? Right, because they’d been in Kalor, which was tropical, and that was utterly un­necessary there. It’s not like she’d thought things through before hitting that ac­­tiv­ation rune. She wished Keolah were here. She could use some magical heat right now. Also Fire Magic.

In Torn Elkandu, it was around ten minutes walk from the Nexus to the edge of the circle, but that was a clear walk across smooth, open ground. Here, it took her over half an hour to reach and locate the inter­section point of the spoke and the wheel, and when she finally did, it was half-buried beneath part of a stone wall. The basin it­self, how­ever, was clear. Channeling mana with Zarnith, she dumped energy into the foun­tain. A pink geyser shot into the air above her. That… was bound to attract the atten­tion of any­thing nearby. Fortunately, the mana foun­tain let off quite a bit of heat as well, so she decided to remain nearby for a while to warm up again.

A few minutes later, a sound rumbled behind her like breathing from a very large throat, and a great shadow crossed the wall in front of her. Haw­thorne spun about, and came face to face with a reptilian maw that could swallow her in two bites if it were so in­clined. Pristine white scales like new-fallen snow covered its body, and it looked down at her with blue eyes the color of the clear winter sky.

“What manner of being is it that has come to my castle?” asked the dragon, breath heavy with frost. “A pur­ple elf? How strange. The product of magical change, a throw­back to an­other time, or a breed from a far dis­tant realm?”

“Um,” Haw­thorne said. “The latter.”

“Very ­in­ter­esting,” the dragon rep­lied. “How is it that you came to be here, then? And why do you speak the tongue of this realm?”

“I have a trans­lator amulet,” Haw­thorne said, then paused. “Except it’s not set to snow elvish. Um. I think I accidentally turned on the trans­lator func­tion of this arcane com­plex?”

“Ah,” the dragon said, a puff of icy breath from its nostrils threatening to freeze Haw­thorne’s skin. “Either way, it’s magical. Well enough.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but un­less you want me to freeze to death before I can answer your ques­tions, would you point your mouth in an­other dir­ec­tion?”

The dragon chuckled, and its form began to shrink. In moments, where a massive winged reptile had been, a small elven woman stood. She bore the same snow-white skin and blue eyes as the dragon had, with the addition of a stream of long, silver hair.

“You’re no snow elf, then,” the dragon-elf said. “Snow elves would not be bothered by the cold. What are you?”

“A song elf,” Haw­thorne rep­lied. “I’m called Haw­thorne. How should I address you?”

The dragon-elf snorted softly. “The people of Aymiaysia refer to me as ‘the dragon of Ice­wall Castle’. Not very creative of them, but there you go. You may call me Winter, if you like.”

“Aymiaysia?” Haw­thorne repeated. “Is that the name of this realm?”

“No,” Winter said. “That’s the name of the city down there, below the cliff.” She pointed off into the dis­tance. “The name of this realm is Sasherey.”

“I see,” Haw­thorne said.

“I assume your means of getting here has some­thing to do with that warm pur­ple jet behind you?” Winter said.

“Yeah,” Haw­thorne said. “Did you know this rune com­plex was here?”

“I did not,” Winter said. “I may have noticed some markings beneath the ice, but I did not think much of them. I know nothing about who lived here before I moved in. It has been aban­doned and in ruins as long as any­one can rem­em­ber. Are you saying you’ve found a way to ac­­tiv­ate it, and that it’s a teleportation device of some sort, that brought you here from an­other realm?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Haw­thorne said. “I don’t really know how to use it right, though. If you can help me get back to where I came from, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Winter giggled, a dis­concerting sound to hear from a dragon, even one who was currently in elven form. “Alright, I’ll play along. I’ll admit that I’m curious, now. The snow elves around here are dread­fully boring, and the less said about those penguins, the better.”

With Winter’s help, Haw­thorne made her way around the circle of runes and ac­­tiv­ated each basin in turn. Winter trans­formed back into a dragon to use her superior strength and size to help move the fallen stone blocks out of the way of the mana foun­tains. Finally, once all eight of them were ready, they returned to the Nexus.

“So this is the teleportation device?” Winter asked.

“The part of it that actually teleports, yeah,” Haw­thorne said. “Alright, let’s see if I can get this working, then.”

First, the ‘life’ obelisk to turn the ­con­struct on. Then, ‘energy’ to power it up. Which one did they say would let her choose a des­tination? She tried an­other obelisk. What’s the worst that could happen when blindly channeling mana into things she didn’t know what they did?

A cloud of glowing fog appeared in the middle of the Nexus, and through it, the image of a forest could be seen. That cer­tainly wasn’t Torn Elkandu. She cut off her flow of mana, waited a few moments, then ac­­tiv­ated it again. Still a forest, even if she tried really hard to think about Torn Elkandu. Maybe that was why she’d gotten sent to Sasherey. It had been stuck on the last used des­tination.

“Fascinating,” Winter said. “I have never seen a place quite so green before. Is that where you’re from?”

“No,” Haw­thorne said. “I don’t recog­nize that place. Hmm.”

As she started try­ing to figure out how to switch the des­tination, runes on a diff­erent obelisk lit up on their own. Frowning, she won­dered just what this was doing, or try­ing to tell her. One rune sat there softly blinking as if try­ing to get her atten­tion. Shrugging, she sent a short burst of mana into the rune.

A swirl of mist filled the Nexus, and a small group of people appeared. Keolah, looking worried. Delven, looking amused. Sedder, looking annoyed. Silver, looking confused. Amanda, looking curious. Sardill, looking like an illusion was hiding his face as usual. Once the mists cleared, Keolah ran up to Haw­thorne and grabbed her around the shoulders.

“Haw­thorne, I have no idea whether to extol your brilliance or smack your stupidity right now,” Keolah said.

“Both?” Haw­thorne said.

“We couldn’t teleport after you,” Amanda said. “It seemed to be warded out some­how.”

“Oops, I think I must have accidentally turned on some sort of safe­guards while messing around with it,” Haw­thorne said.

Sardill sighed in exasperation. “Haw­thorne, I would be more annoyed at you if you did not wind up solving more prob­lems than you cause, en­tirely by accident.”

“That’s part of her charm,” Delven said with a smirk.

“Am I the only one concerned about the dragon?” Sedder asked.

“She’s friendly,” Haw­thorne said off­handedly, and gave a quick round of intro­ductions.

“What manner of beings are these?” Winter won­dered, turning back into a snow elf to take a closer look at them. “Hmm, are you a snow elf?” she asked Silver.

“Wind­rider,” Silver said. “Sky elf, you might say. Long-lost sib­ling of the snow elves.”

“Are we going to invite the ice dragon back to Torn Elkandu, too?” Sedder won­dered.

Winter giggled. “No, I much prefer it here. It sounds much too warm in your realms. But it’s fascinating to see what sort of people come through my castle.”

“Well, if you’re hoping for guests,” Haw­thorne said, “you might want to see about fixing up some rooms that have roofs and aren’t freezing.”

“I will take this into con­sideration,” Winter said. “Though I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a peek…”

“Not to com­plain, but Keolah?” Haw­thorne said. “Can I get a heat spell over here? I’m freezing my titties off.”

Keolah chuckled. “Right, of course. Forgot all about that.” She made a casual wave of her hand, and Haw­thorne was com­fortable again.

“Let me guess, you reflexively put up a heat field around your­self and for­got about every­one else?” Haw­thorne said with a grin.

“Maybe…” Keolah said. “Er. Well, it’s a good thing that this place doesn’t have the same magic amp­lification effect as Torn Elkandu, or other­wise I might have set you all on fire accidentally, because I totally didn’t think to check first.” Keolah looked to the sky. “So we really did it. This is really an­other world.”

“Sasherey, Winter calls it,” Haw­thorne said.

“Let’s head move out of this castle so we can get a better look at the world around us,” Keolah sug­gested.

“What, on foot?” Winter said. “I can do you one better.” She shifted into a dragon. “Climb on! All of you.”

“You’re just try­ing to show off,” Haw­thorne said with a chuckle.

“Well, yeah,” Winter said as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Uni­verse. Multi­verse?

The seven of them climbed onto the back of the dragon, with some help from part of a collapsed wall to get them­selves up on top of her. Once they were all as firmly in place as they were going to get, and protected by Haw­thorne’s wards against falling off, Winter sprung into the air with strong legs and took off.

The ruined castle, and the remains of the city in the center of which it once stood, lay at the top of a vast cliff that Winter called the Ice­wall. Beneath them, as Winter flew off the cliff, a large city sprawled out onto the frozen plains, its buildings and arch­ways al­most seeming to be made of ice them­selves. Maybe they were. From this dis­tance it was difficult to tell who inhabited the city, but judging by their color­ation and Winter’s comments, Haw­thorne guessed them to be snow elves.

“Look at the horizon,” Silver breathed.

Haw­thorne looked up and gazed off into the dis­tance. She didn’t under­stand what she was seeing at first. The tundra stretched on for what seemed like miles upon miles, until it reached far dis­tant moun­tains that she could barely make out. Although it was hard to tell exactly how far away they were, she knew from all the sailing she’d done that the world dropped away after a cer­tain point, where land and other ships fell below the horizon. That was what the curve of the world looked like. Or was supposed to look like. But this world didn’t curve. It looked wrong, and now that it had been drawn to her atten­tion, she could not stop staring at it.

“What am I seeing?” Haw­thorne said.

“The world is… flat?” Keolah said.

“That would take some getting used to,” Haw­thorne commented. “Although at least it beats the world falling away into the Void a mile away from the center.”

After circling around the area and giving them a good view, Winter flew back to the Nexus at Ice­wall Castle and landed.

“That was funny,” Winter said, resuming elven form. “As soon as I got away from the ruins, you all started babbling in an­other lan­guage that I couldn’t under­stand. Haw­thorne men­tioned some­thing about trans­lator runes?”

“I guess she must have ac­­tiv­ated them accidentally,” Amanda said. “Seeing as every­thing she does is accidental.”

“Not every­thing,” Haw­thorne protested.

“And they must have already been keyed in with the local lan­guage,” Amanda con­tinued. “Con­sidering that, and the fact that who­ever lived here clearly built this city long after Torn Elkandu fell, I’d estimate that it was still ac­tive until rel­atively recently, archae­ologically speaking.”

“Relatively recently, to you, might still mean several thousand years,” Keolah commented.

“True,” Amanda said.

“Winter, is it true that the world is flat?” Keolah asked.

Winter cocked her head in puzzlement. “What do you mean? Of course it’s flat. What else would it be?”

“Not just the immediate area,” Keolah said. “The world as a whole. Lezaria is a globe. It curves.”

“So people fall off the sides?” Winter asked.

“No, gravity goes down toward the middle of the sphere,” Keolah ex­plained.

“Huh,” Winter said. “Now that’s just weird. I’m going to have to see this for myself. So, Lezaria is the place you’re from?”

“Yes,” Keolah said. “And Torn Elkandu is the location of the Nexus that brought us here.”

“Does that make you Elkandu?” Winter won­dered.

Keolah grinned. “I guess you can call us wizards, yeah.”

After some trial and error, they figured out how the change the des­tination settings of the Nexus, and dis­covered that only two locations were accessible from here: Torn Elkandu, and that wil­der­ness plane that kept showing up.

“Only two?” Haw­thorne said. “That’s dis­appointing.”

“I think it’s only showing the ones closest in the network,” Amanda said. “Or the ones intact enough to receive an incoming teleport, but con­sidering how resilient these Nexi seem to be, I doubt that.”

“Let’s get back to Torn Elkandu and see if any­thing else is accessible from there,” Keolah said.

*

Seven planes could be reached from the Nexus of Torn Elkandu. In addition to the frozen lands of Sasherey and the wil­der­ness plane, they saw images of a dark, ashen wasteland with three moons in the sky, a series of caverns with seas of molten lava, a sky dotted with islands floating in the air above end­less mists, a patch­work plane divided by crisscrossing giant forcefields, and a vast city stretching on into the dis­tance.

“Whoa,” Haw­thorne breathed. “Look at these places!”

Keolah nodded in agree­ment. “I mean, I feel like I still haven’t seen every­thing there is to see on Lezaria, but this is in­credible. And we didn’t find any trace of the Vel’dari on Sasherey, and I don’t see any­thing that looks like it might be their style on any of these other planes, either. It’s good that we don’t have to just blindly ac­­tiv­ate the Nexus and see where it takes us.” She gave a meaning­ful, side­long look to Haw­thorne.

“I wasn’t ex­pecting it to actually work!” Haw­thorne protested.

“Uh-huh,” Keolah said with a smirk.

The others, for the most part, had started to settle into Torn Elkandu, content to make a home for them­selves here. Some of them thought it was the best oppor­tunity that had come into their lives, while others sim­ply had made new friends and had nothing they par­tic­ularly wished to return to in the world out­side. The Witch­­wood would make jour­neys back to Lezaria not nearly as trivial as ex­ploration of the Seven Planes, but Keolah was still con­sidering ways to get around that. Still, she was not blind to its use­fulness as a defense mech­anism. It had been a for­tunate fluke that had found this place to begin with, and highly un­likely any­one else was going to repeat it any­time soon.

“You feeling out of place here among us mages, Vakis?” Haw­thorne asked.

“We can get you home if you want,” Keolah offered.

Vakis shook his head. “Oddly, no. This place feels strange, but it feels right to me. I feel like I belong here. I feel like I’ve finally come home.”

“You are an in­born mage, Vakis,” Keolah said. “I can tell you that much. But I don’t know what your Talent is, which is strange in and of it­self.”

“Plenty of time to find out,” Vakis said. “I would like to be an… Elkandu? That was the word you used?”

“Yeah,” Keolah said.

“So,” Amanda said. “We’re calling our­selves Elkandu, then?”

Keolah nodded. “Yes. And once we have gotten every­thing set up and had more of a chance to study the Nexus, we can start arranging ex­plorations of these other planes. Start off with short hops to take a look around, ensure that the Nexus is accessible and see what’s in its immediate vicinity, and what the plane is called so we don’t have to just call places things like ‘the wil­der­ness plane’—”

“Wilderplane?” Haw­thorne sug­gested.

“—or let Haw­thorne give them stupid names,” Keolah went on.

“Yes, she already gave my Talent a stupid name,” Sardill said. “Let us attempt to limit that where possible.”

“I just keep calling it Catalysm to annoy you,” Haw­thorne said.

Sardill sighed.

“A worthy cause,” Amanda agreed.

Keolah took a step back and looked over the Nexus, its runes glowing cyan and lighting up what was quickly becoming a city in the pocket-world. Torn Elkandu, home of the wizards. It was beyond any­thing she’d ever dreamed. And now, the multi­verse was in their grasp. It was time to see what was out there.