The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy-Chapter 269 - Procurement (Part 1)

Once the early business of the next loop was taken care of and everyone had their focuses, they met for the first Council of the 252nd loop. As usual, they met in the dreamscape, in the cavernous throne room of the Mausoleum, the Ominian sitting still in Their great chair, unmoving.

It started off about how Mirian expected.

“Mirian, what did you do?” Gabriel thought at her.

“How do you know it was me?” Mirian projected back.

Ibrahim sent the idea of ‘rolling eyes’ out at the group. “It was obviously you.”

Mirian had thought about explanations that might satisfy the other Prophets that didn’t involve her. None of them were believable. She had thought about saying she’d tried an alternative configuration of the Gates—which wasn’t technically a lie—and that had led to disaster. But the Gates had been in their usual configuration for most of the last loop, as the others knew, and that would lead to them asking what exactly she had changed.

She had come up with a more believable lie: that she had accidentally destroyed the Torrviol Gate while studying it. However, the destruction of the Torrviol Gate triggered a distinct leyline eruption that went down to the Casnevar Range and triggered a blast powerful enough to wipe out most of the glyphs in Palendurio. If any of the others had been watching, they’d know that wasn’t the case. There were other more nuanced tells in the leyline data, and if any of them had been taking measurements, they would know.

A lie here could destroy trust between her and the others. She had considered how she would react if she learned about a deception of that magnitude. She had already lied enough.

She had decided on the truth. “I linked the Torrviol Gate to Divir. It destroyed the field that suspends the moon. I had thought we might be able to build something like what the Akanans did with their airships and suspend Divir ourselves, but it won’t work. Another dead end.”

Mirian felt shock radiating through their connected auras, not all of it intentionally transmitted.

“Wait, what?” Jherica asked. “And… how?”

“It’s a dead end,” Mirian repeated. “We need to extend the cycle, not shorten it.”

“I thought you were working on reaching Luamin, not Divir,” Liuan said.

“I am,” Jherica said.

“Not you,” Liuan said, annoyed.

“This was a side project. My primary project remains the same.”

“A side project!” Jherica exclaimed.

“Then you saw the Ominian,” Ibrahim said. “Tell us of God’s Prophet.”

That was what Mirian both liked and hated about Ibrahim. He never danced around topics. He didn’t maneuver politically. He just got to the point.

“They’re wounded. Dying, I think. But I couldn’t get close to Them. It’s like trying to walk through an entropic field.”

“Wounds can be healed,” Ibrahim said. “Perhaps this is the solution we were meant to find all along. If the Triarchs attempted to heal the Ominian and failed, perhaps it is our duty to set things right.”

That… was not unreasonable. But once again, it involved magic far beyond their understanding. If the Ominian had sent dreams of healing and restoration, she might believe that was what They wanted.

But that wasn’t what They sent. Instead, it was filled with endless wandering. A deep melancholy. A sense of mourning. And a warning—not a plea. “Based on what I’ve reconstructed from their ritual circle, the Triarchs used mass sacrifice to gift soul energy back to the Omnian and heal Them. Their understanding of soul magic and necromancy exceeded ours, if not in every area, then certainly most. Soul energy and the best runic magic wasn’t able to heal the Ominian. What would we do differently? How do we account for the tertiary field or the entropic antimagic field?”

“I think the greatest minds of Akana can do a bit better than the ancient Persamans,” Liuan scoffed.

“Oh?” Ibrahim said, the wry amusement radiating off his aura. “And how many of those great industrialists know the first thing about soul magic?” He paused, clearly taking delight in Liuan’s annoyance that she failed to suppress. “Or perhaps you’re referring to the Republic Intelligence Division. Would these be the same geniuses that were able to curse Jherica into unconsciousness, but not heal them? The same ones who run around with single-purpose curse wands and cages with live bone rats because they don’t even know about the Church’s soul repository magic? Or would you be referring to the Church that doesn’t remember that their healing uses the same bindings as necromancy because of an institutionally ingrained blind spot? Remind me… who was it that broke Jherica’s curse again?”

That it was an ‘old Persaman’—or close enough—didn’t escape anyone in the room. Even Xecatl and Zhuan knew at this point. Celen probably knew, but hadn’t yet managed to learn enough about celestial focuses to join them in the dream.

Ibrahim didn’t linger on the point. “I would like to see this wound on the Ominian, so that I may study it. If we can figure out the mistake the Triarchy made, that might inform a proper solution.”

Before he had become a revolutionary warlord, Ibrahim had studied history and archeology at the University of Urubandar. He’d spent more time in the ruins of Mayat Shadr than Mirian had.

Mirian didn’t want him up there. But she could make sure she took care of the Triarch’s scepter and armor first. In fact, she could do so permanently this cycle.

“Next cycle, or maybe the one after. My devices were all destroyed by the forces at work up there, so I’d like to do a more robust study. But before I return, I need to do more research first. That will give you time to prepare as well. And if we do our research at the end of a cycle, we won’t be cutting into the time for our other projects. Shall we get to the reports?” When Ibrahim sent the idea of a shrug, Mirian thought she’d done well enough transitioning the topic away from the sensitive information.

Then she felt a brief flash of mistrust through someone’s aura, though she couldn’t pinpoint it.

“So… those ‘temporal anchors’ are… there. With Them. Yeah?” Gabriel asked, gesturing at the two needles sticking out of the Ominian’s humanoid form in the throne looming over them.

“If you’d like to see them, we can all go on a trip together,” Mirian said, unable to hid her annoyance. “You might be able to perceive them. You won’t be able to get close to them. The field directly around the Ominian is even more powerful than the entropic field.” That would hopefully settle the issue. And they couldn’t accuse her of secretly taking the temporal anchors because they all had access to the dreamscape and could see they were in place.

To Mirian’s surprise, it was Liuan who said, “Are we ready to move on?”

“Sure,” Gabriel said.

Mirian could sense pride radiating off Xecatl as she stepped forward. “I have located the Tlaxhuacan Gate,” she said. “It’s near Uxalax. It was hiding under our feet all the time, just deeper than anyone initially thought to look.”

“Excellent. How quickly can your laborers unearth it?” Zhuan asked.

“A matter of days, now that we know the exact spot. The problem is, it’s near an entrance to the Labyrinth. A rare entrance directly to one of the lower levels. There’s a steady stream of myrvites and horrors in the area, and powerful enough that I will be forced to commit a not-insubstantial number of my nagual to guard it.”

That was worrying, Xecatl and Tlaxhuaco were already vulnerable to Akana Praediar, and now, some of her best fighters would be occupied. More important than ever that Liuan keeps Akana Praediar leashed, Mirian thought.

She had already done the calculations on what the most efficient way to disperse leyline energy would be, and explained the gate patterns to the others. Palendurio would be connected to the Jiandzhi still, but Mahatan would connect first to Torrviol, then later to Tlaxhuaco as the energy moved about, with Alkazaria then linked to Torrviol. Of course, this assumed the system stayed qualitatively the same despite the changes.

“I estimate the cycle can extend to eight months, with that configuration,” Mirian finished.

“That will take some getting used to,” Liuan said.

Jherica sent out the idea of nodding along in their aura. “I’ll have to change quite a bit around. But that will be extremely useful in the project to reach Luamin. Those factories aren’t so fast in adapting their manufacturing. There’s also so much to teach all those artificers about steel-shaping… but I think I’ve figured out a way to get the Mercanton Ship Builder’s Guild to get most of what I need. Then there’s the matter of storing enough air and water.”

The reports continued. Zhuan kept hers vague, and Xecatl had little else to say about spirit constructs that she hadn’t already said, though she proposed the integration of various plant myrvites in Jherica’s ‘void ship’ design that might help in keeping the air breathable.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Mirian was relieved when the Council was over. She knew they were useful in coordinating and building trust among the Prophets, but she found them tedious and boring now. Xecatl was doing research in areas she didn’t fully know yet, but no one else was. They were all just moving around pieces on a game board, while she was discovering new rules to the game.

As soon as they adjourned, Mirian set to work. She finally had the last materials she needed for her leyline regulator armor. She’d made her final adjustments on the design. She had her route planned.

It was finally time.

***

Labyrinth, 5th Level, East of Alatishad - Solem 14

One of the spell-resistant golems charged Mirian. She coated her force detonation spells in soul energy and blew apart its limbs. It let out a terrifying screech, but she slammed it into the wall and used shape metal to turn the chunks of it she’d just blown off it into bindings, which she then anchored it to the wall with. Then she moved on, quickly levitating wyvern wing, manticore tail, and drake liver to three different nodes in the room. The next door opened, and she was already using force push to hit the hidden switches that would open the next room.

Two more golems descended from the ceiling and charged her, but she smashed them too, then bent their bodies so that they were entangled in each other. Crippling them would keep them occupied longer than destroying them, since the Labyrinth was happy to deposit new golems if it detected one was totally destroyed.

She levitated through the Labyrinth, flipping switches, depositing materials, and crushing anything that got in her way. She destroyed the voidling in the ninth room before it could even strip the air from around her head, then sent a disintegration beam into the causter that was hiding in the corner. The last hall contained a carapace-crusher, but she easily smashed apart its defenses with force spells before slicing it to pieces.

Then, the Vault was hers. She levitated forward, moving the dials on the door with manipulate object before she’d even finished crossing the room. The Vault door rumbled open.

***

Labyrinth, 6th Level, just outside Urubandar

- Solem 18

The centicerator began to move towards her, coiling its centipede-like body through the fourth dimension so that pieces of it suddenly appeared behind her. Mirian already knew the best path to escape, and used blink to weave through a gap in the coils. She used force crush to crack open its carapace, then fed burning flames into the gap until the flesh was so charred the segment crumbled. Then she lit it up with crackling lightning, the bolts leaping along the body until it stilled.

She flew through the next passage, ignoring the swarm of horrors, then using force blades to shred a greater horror that blocked the far door. She wove through the narrow passages faster than an eximontar’s gallop, force and lightning spells flying in every direction as she smashed anything that was a threat. As she reached the Vault door, she heard the scramble of needle-like feet on stone behind her.

She ignored them, and moved the glyphs on the door into their correct sequence, and the door opened. Another Vault to conquer. This one had two cubes of relicarium waiting for her.

Mirian closed her eyes briefly and checked her aura. Here, where the ambient mana was thick, she could feel her aura already recovering, using the flow patterns to trap and then integrate the dispersed arcane energy in a way few other arcanists could. Still, she quickly drank one of the mana elixirs at her belt, closing her eyes for a moment to ensure the foreign mana was integrated smoothly into her aura.

No eddies or anomalies. That was good. She was only just getting started.

***

Labyrinth, 4th Level, North of Urubandar

- Solem 20

Another wave of labyrinthine horrors swarmed through the doors, moving like oily shadows. Mirian was under the form of The Spear That Cuts Water, and so as they came, she flowed through the room, Eclipse in hand, using pinpoint thrusts and quick slashes to mince the terrible little creatures. The stance made the movement feel thoughtless; she moved like a wave, flowing from one part of the room to the other, and with each strike, she severed limbs and cut apart bodies.

Within a few minutes, the swarm was dead, and the door opened. Mirian’s breathing slowed, and her heartbeat calmed.

Mirian exited the suppression antimagic field and made her way to yet another Vault.

***

Second Cairn, Ennecus Guild - Duala 5

Nicolus Sacristar strode into the Ennecus Guildhall feeling nervous as anything, but if there was one thing he’d learned growing up a Sacristar, it was how to hide any trepidation.

He vaguely recognized the woman who was working at the desk. Silvera, Mirian had said. Nicolus had gotten a quick glance at the notes Mirian now kept in her spellbook, and was pretty sure the words could only be read with a lens spell. And every page he’d seen had been crammed with that tiny writing, except for the one that had a diagram so complex he’d gotten a headache just getting near the damn thing. On his way to Second Cairn, he’d kept thinking, just how many cycles has she gone through?

Silvera looked slightly surprised. “Ah, Nicolus. Mr. Ennecus didn’t expect you… that is, we expected a representative of the Sacristars, not…” She cleared her throat. “The meeting has been delayed slightly, so feel free to have a seat.”

“Silvera! You look well. Say, I know Mr. Ennecus likes to go through the usual list of negotiation tricks, but I thought that we could skip those, you know? I don’t get nervous waiting, I just get bored.”

Ennecus’s secretary, usually composed, turned slightly red. “That’s not—”

Nicolus waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, I respect someone who keeps up on the best practices of tactics. It’s just, I got a little bit of insight into the Ennecus Guild’s financial situation.” When Silvera’s eyes widened slightly, he added, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t Calisto. She’s too canny for that. Well?”

The conversation was a performance for more than Silvera, because Nicolus knew there was a remote listening spell that Cain Ennecus was listening to. He waited patiently. The secretary regained her composure and said, “Let me see if things are ready.”

She slipped through the fancy doors to the meeting room, then returned a moment later. “Yes, he’ll see you now. You didn’t bring any assistants?”

He hadn’t. “Nah. This is standard contract stuff.” When he entered the room, he saw Cain Ennecus was looking a lot more pale and worn than when Nicolus had last seen him.

Actually, that was too generous. He looked like shit.

Start with flattery, he thought. “Mr. Ennecus! Good to see you. And I must say, that vest looks great on you. Is that Zhighuan silk? My compliments to the tailor.”

Nicolus was acting casual, but he was closely watching Cain’s reaction. The words had momentarily disarmed the Ennecus Patriarch.

“Ah. Thank you, Mr. Sacristar. And good to see you too. Have a seat, please.”

Next, the offer and appeal to greed. Nicolus sat casually in one of the plush seats. He noticed a stain on one of the armrests. Noticed the window sill hadn’t been dusted. “There’s a new business opportunity. A way to outmaneuver the Akanans. We’re already preparing the groundwork.” Nicolus said. “And as part of that, Sacristar family needs myrvite parts. A lot of them. Shipped to Alkazaria, starting in two months. At that time, we’ll be buying up several magichemicals, and there’s going to be a price increase on theromyradides and astramolovite, plus a shortage of manticore parts. So I want you to know, there’s two parts to this deal: the contract we’re negotiating, and the early market information.”

Yeah, Cain was interested. He could see his neck muscles tense. Next, I let him slip a few seemingly harmless phrases into the contract in exchange for a higher initial shipment. He waited for Cain to respond. The man was carefully going over the contract, looking for any legal traps.

He already knew what Cain’s answer would be though. Gods this is fun. I wonder if the feeling of power you get from this shit ever wears thin?

As the negotiations proceeded, it was like Cain was dancing on strings, the greedy bastard.

It was all going exactly the way Mirian had said it would.

***

Atrah Xidi’s Hideout, South of Faljimali - Duala 19

Trinea clenched her jaw, trying not to display her anxiety as she watched Voran. She hadn’t ever seen the First Praetorian like this. He was worried, worried enough that the fear had become anger, and that anger was bubbling just below his stoic demeanor.

“Our intelligence was good,” one of the other Arcane Praetorians repeated.

“And if the Deeps is playing games with us?” another asked. Trinea had heard there was a political feud brewing among different branches of the Royal Guard, but she didn’t think it would ever disrupt an operation this important.

“We checked with our own people. Our own people, without relying on the Deeps agents at all. The intelligence was good. He keeps to a schedule. Are we sure we checked all the passages?”

They had. They’d scoured the place, then cast every divination spell in their books.

Trinea kept her eyes on Voran, who was still silent as the conversation continued. Still thinking. She knew the question he was contemplating: did Atroxcidi know we were coming? And more importantly, if he did, how? He had to prepare for the worst case scenario. Too much was at stake here. If it was a leak from the Arcane Praetorians, things were dire. If it was just the Deeps maneuvering, they’d have to pull on their contacts in Parliament to get a proper investigation of the department. This was going too far.

However, if the necromancer had known they were coming, why had he left his undead army? At least we can disassemble it. But Gods Above, how did he make them all? There must be over a thousand of these things. The mummy soldiers stood in their catacomb nooks ominously. None of the necromantic runes were visible. Atroxcidi liked to engrave them directly on the bones. It was terrifying that one man could have this much power. A threat not just to the Republic of Baracuel, but a threat to the very idea of a republic.

“Stop,” Voran said, holding up a hand. The Praetorians stopped talking. “We need to ensure this isn’t an ambush. And we need to ensure our target isn’t given time to properly hide if that’s what he’s done. He has another facility nearby. Abandoned, I thought, but maybe not. We’ll do a divination sweep outside the plateau, then head that way. We can always return here to destroy these abominations afterward. Formations.”

Trinea got into position, and they began marching back towards the entrance of the compound.

The first line of Praetorians was making their way through the cave when suddenly, everything went dark and Trinea found herself flung backwards into another mage. Her ears were ringing, and she coughed, choking on dust. A light spell appeared behind her, but it took her a moment to realize what had just happened.

The ceiling of the passage had collapsed.

Trinea’s heart raced. Five of their people had just been crushed in an instant.

And the rest of them were trapped until they could drill through the stone. That wouldn’t take long—but solid stone ceilings didn’t collapse like that on accident.

Then she heard a voice echoing in the dark cavern.

“Voran, I want you to know that the blood that’s about to be spilled is on your hands. You could have avoided this all if you hadn’t killed my wife and stolen my child.” Trinea whirled about, looking for the source of the voice, before she realized it was coming from a simple spell engine embedded in the ceiling. “The only disappointing thing is that she’s told me your death won’t stick. But I must say, this would be a fitting end for you. Trapped inside a home you invaded, only this time, you will know what it is to fear for your life. It’s quite satisfying to know for certain the outcome.”

What in the five hells is he talking about? Trinea thought, but she also wasn’t a fool. “Shields!” she called, drawing two of her wands.

Even as overlapping shields appeared around them, she saw that Voran hadn’t drawn his wands. He was just standing there. “Fuck,” he said quietly.

And that was when all the mummy soldiers began to move. As one, they crept out of their nooks and turned towards the Praetorians. A trap. It was a gods-cursed trap.

Trinea’s heart hammered in her chest.

The undead charged in.