The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy-Chapter 269 - Procurement (Part 2)

Jiandzhi, West of the Gate - Duala 27

“It’s coming! Run! Run!” Qian said, and began sprinting east through the trail. Behind him, he could hear the thunderous steps of a lesser titan crashing through the jungle. Not for the first time, Qian wondered what egg-headed fool had decided to call these terrifying beasts ‘lesser.’ He also wondered who this woman was that she could convince the great Zhuan Li to do something as foolish as lure beasts to them in the Jiandzhi.

Though perhaps he was the greatest of the fools, because in the end, the marusaurs weren’t baiting the trap, he was.

The jungle blurred as he ran, like a tunnel of green, and all his focus was on making sure he wasn’t going to trip on a root or catch his shirt on a thorny vine and get entangled. Even a few seconds of delay, and he feared the booming footsteps behind him would be on top of him. When he glanced back, he saw the others who were running, and behind them, the heart-stopping glimpse of movement. Not like a bird flying, or a simorian leaping from branch to branch, but like an entire house was moving behind the leaves.

Qian ran faster. His lungs were burning as he moved through a gap between two bushes, leapt over a log, then risked another glance back.

A wing-like appendage burst through the lower canopy and snatched up one of the men. He was gone before he could scream.

Exalted save me, he thought. And not just because that was the traditional phrase. The rumors were that Zhuan had become a new exalted. How else to explain her miraculous escape from prison? How else to explain the way she’d made the Akanans look like fools? But even Zhuan Li would have trouble with one of these.

He heard another shout behind him, and hoped that another man hadn’t just died. His lungs were straining, each breath painful. His legs felt weak.

Qian had known what he was doing was stupid, but for the first time, now he realized he might actually die.

And then he emerged into a small clearing and saw the woman. She was hovering in that gap between the canopy and the dark forest floor.

Before, she’d seemed normal enough. Intense gray eyes, the kind that looked into one’s soul, but he was used to that; Zhuan was much the same.

Now, her eyes were glowing silver, bright enough they were hypnotizing, and it wasn’t at all the same. She hovered there, with certain death stampeding towards her, with absolute calm and confidence. A spellbook floated by a casually held hand, the metal filigree also shining, but more pearlescent than silver. Her presence was powerful enough he nearly missed Zhuan Li herself levitating just behind the woman.

Then the woman raised her hand, and Qian swore he could feel the power building up, feel it with the arcane sense his second aunt had talked about. Only, he’d failed the arcanist’s entry examination. Not sensitive enough to his own aura, the examiner had said.

But he could feel this.

As Qian collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, he looked back to see the tree behind him part. The lesser titan burst into the clearing with a roar.

Then the air filled with fire and lightning.

Spells were supposed to come from the caster, but these spells came from every direction. Lines of fire came raining down, burst up from the ground, struck from an angle, materializing out of seemingly nothing. Lightning flashed so bright Qian had to throw a hand in front of his face, and then he thought his ear drums might pop from the cacophony. Waves of heat washed over him, and he thought he might burn. He tried to scramble back, but found his hand bumping into a thigh, then his head hitting a shield, and belatedly realized that he and the other runners were being protected—just that the spells were so intense it didn’t feel like it.

He closed his eyes, and the world flickered. He began to sweat from the heat, skin feeling like he’d been out in the summer sun for hours.

Then, darkness.

He opened his eyes, ears still ringing.

“Good. That’s another one down,” the woman said. She was holding some sort of device that was wrapped in celestial runes. “Five more to go.”

Qian blinked. He must have misheard her. He looked back, and saw the burning hulk of the lesser titan. It looked like a pig that had been roasted over an open flame for two days longer than it should have. Its skin was blackened and ashy, more like coals than flesh, and he could feel the heat radiating off it. Emperor’s blood, he thought. No wonder Zhuan had allied with her. How had he not heard of an archmage of that kind of power? The Akanan sorcerers wouldn’t stand a chance.

But what in the hells were they doing that required them to hunt multiple lesser titans?

Well, clearly, this was all above his station. For now, he could lie on the mossy dirt and stare up at the canopy until his lungs didn’t hurt so bad.

***

Alkazaria, The Great Temple of Eintocarst - Merisheth 6

It was a warm, sunny winter day in Alkazaria, and Bishop Saban hated it. He was tired of being relegated to a second tier city. Alkazaria may have been Baracuel’s second capital, but Palendurio was where the real power was. He had thought he was nearly done with this place, but then the Praetorian strike-team had disappeared, and his contact in the Department of Public Security hadn’t stopped harassing him about it. As if he knew anything! Then, several of his sources in Falijmali had gone dark.

Now, something strange was happening in the Luminate Order, and he couldn’t figure out what. The first sign of it had been someone messing with the flow of funds that was going towards the New Order. However, he hadn’t heard anything from the bishops he knew in the Grand Sanctum. Hadn’t heard anything back from his contact who usually talked to Decian Corrmier for him. All he knew was that things were ‘delayed.’

By now, Kallin Corrmier should have been in charge of Palendurio. The revitalization of Baracuel should have begun. Instead, things were slipping out of his control. The latest of which was that huge shipments were coming into the Citadel, almost all of which were going into the Temple of Eintocarst. It couldn’t be like his own smuggling operation. Everything was too out in the open. But it wasn’t sanctioned—couldn’t be!—because then it would have passed through his office.

That was why he was here. To find out what exactly was going on so he could start putting an end to this nonsense. He passed by the Luminate Guards who let him through the temple doors, then made his way into the central chamber.

As soon as he entered, though, his expectations had to be thrown out the window. The inside of the Great Temple had been completely renovated, and the main chamber had large sheets of cloth hanging about to block what was going on inside at a glance. He pushed aside one of the sheets to get a better look, then his jaw dropped.

The Cults of Shiamagoth and Eintocarst were here in full force, wearing each of their cult’s regalia. Dozens of priests roamed about with tools, both holy and mundane. Celestial runes had been carved on mechanisms all over the room. They were in plain sight, in clear violation of the Order’s dictums. But beyond that, he couldn’t understand what they were making. He recognized some of the runes, but the huge crucible at the center of the room, the bellows, the foundry—it looked like someone was opening a blacksmithing practice. The cavernous chamber that usually held a chill was hot.

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There were bronze ingots lined up on one wall, and coming out of one forge—is that orichalcum? But that was to be made only in the Grand Sanctum, and only in the secret chambers. He’d never even seen it made himself, only distributed as part of the agreement between the Luminate Order and the Praetorians.

Then he saw the other ingots that had been stacked in preparation. The silver-colored ingots were much smaller than actual silver, steel, or even titanium. As he got closer, he realized they were marked with the sigils for iridium and platinum. The small containers next to them—those would contain the trace elements that only the best alchemists could isolate.

They’re preparing to make adamantium? But why? And who authorized this? And how have they secured such a blessing? And why are there crates of myrvite parts stacked everywhere? Has the Luminate Order become an artifice business?

A group of priests approached him. That was good. He could actually get some answers.

“What is going on here? Why wasn’t I informed of this? As bishop of the second order, I must demand an explanation. None of this has been authorized by my office.”

“Ah, Bishop Saban,” the lead priest said. He was a portly man with dark hair. He looked like he was from the region, but Saban didn’t recognize him. His robes indicated he was from one of the orders in Palendurio. “It was good of you to come here. It saves us quite a bit of trouble.” He beckoned at someone.

“Trouble? What are you talking about? Did you not hear me? I asked for an explanation.”

That’s when Saban noticed a pair of Luminate Guards approaching. “Holy One, is this man on your list?”

“He is. The Special Inquisition has already convicted him, so you may remove him to Carkavakom’s penitentiary where he may reflect on his violations of the sacred laws.”

Saban’s heart started pounding. “What!? Under whose authority? I am a bishop—a bishop! I outrank—what are you doing? Unhand me!”

“Saban, your rank has been stripped from you by Special Inquisition. You will maintain more dignity if you shout less,” the priest said.

The Luminate Guards had grabbed Saban, and not gently. He felt the sharp steel of their gauntlets digging into his wrist as they fitted shackles onto his hands. Saban started trembling. He couldn’t understand. But a Special Inquisition—those are only called by Pontiff Oculo. But Oculo—I thought he was for the New Order! He was on our side! What is happening?

***

Uxalak, beneath Ceiba Yan - Berosan 3

It was early morning in Tlaxhuaco when Mirian flew over the city and landed beneath the boughs of Ceiba Yan. feeling the tickle of the Sacred Tree’s aura over hers. There was a fancy cottage now nestled up to the trunk of the great tree that towered over all of Uxalak. So Xecatl can sleep in comfort when she’s up against the trunk of the tree, she thought. Since Ceiba Yan was the true Prophet of Tlaxhuaco, Xecatl needed to sleep here, soul entwined with the tree, if she wanted to join them in the Ominian’s dreamscape. The Emperor rarely left Uxalak, and besides, Mirian suspected that everyone had noticed that she didn’t have a temporal anchor by now.

Everyone has secrets now that they dance around. She was tired of it. Here, beneath Ceiba Yan, she could be rid of most of them at least. And she could let her guard down. She knew the tree, and the tree knew her.

Xecatl emerged from her cottage, already dressed in the ornate green, white, red and black of the Emperor. Despite the early hour—the sun was still bleeding oranges and pinks into the cloud filled dawn—Xecatl looked composed. Two servants followed her like shadows.

“Mirian,” she said, nodding.

“Xecatl. What are the readings looking like?”

“Promising.” She nodded at the Sacred Tree. “We’ve been working on extending her roots down. With the majority of our nagual working with Ceiba Yan, we may be able to get them to touch the Labyrinth. And being able to touch the Labyrinth this close to a working Gate…”

Mirian smiled. Xecatl’s original plan had been to grow a myrvite garden atop wherever they found the Tlaxhuacan Gate. That it was so close to the strongest-souled myrvite on this side of the Rift Sea was a stroke of good fortune. Humans had a difficult time integrating ambient mana into their auras. Plants, though, were how the majority of ambient mana was turned into usable arcane energy.

“Fascinating.” She started doing calculations in her head, adjusting numbers. “I’d estimated eight months, but it could be even longer. And if these designs work, I may be able to adjust the leylines further, meaning even more of the energy is distributed through Gates.”

“Myrvite numbers will increase dramatically, first in the flora, then in the fauna,” Xecatl said. “And the disruptions are going to lead to swarming behaviors. You’ve already seen them at work. Tlaxhuaco is ill-prepared for it. Our lack of spellward barriers makes the cities vulnerable.”

“True enough. But you will have time to prepare. Do you have the royal silk?”

Xecatl gestured, and one of the servants went off to fetch the item.

Royal silk wasn’t true silk, but came from a type of hybrid myrvite that crawled around in the reefs just off the coast of Uxalak. The mantis-spider seemed to have been a rare example of a chimera that had viable offspring. Now, the reclusive rainbow-shelled creatures roamed about making underwater webs to snare prey. The threads they used had their origin in a type of myrvite kelp, which the mantis-spiders then coated with some sort of special substance and spun into threads. Mirian intended to send Viridian and Seneca over in some future cycle to study the creatures and substance now that they could easily establish a link between Torrviol and Uxalak.

For now, they relied on the old Tlaxhuacan practices to harvest the substance, which no alchemists had been able to replicate. Specially trained nagual could get the mantis-spiders to make small amounts of silk, but it was difficult enough and labor intensive enough that only the highest ranked officials had anything made out of it—hence the name. But good armor required good padding, and when Mirian was researching what sort of fabric her regulator battle-robe should be made out of, royal-silk had done the best in her tests. Better yet, the fabric could take both glyphic and runic enchantments. When she’d shown Gaius the stuff, he’d muttered about how he wished his own robes were made out of it.

“My agents report to me that you’re doing little enough research on antimagic resilience of artifacts, you know,” Xecatl said.

“I think the production of adamantium and other rare substances could be used as shielding, don’t you think?” Mirian asked. She’d told Zhuan some of her intentions, and Xecatl almost all of them, so this wasn’t actually news to the Emperor. Her intelligence department didn’t know that she already knew, though.

“Yes, it could. But if my agents are reporting that to me, then I’m not the only one that’s caught a glimpse of what you’re doing and has intelligence officers that are getting suspicious. Who can say if Ibrahim knows, but Liuan and Gabriel certainly do. And I worry that Jherica is too manipulatable.”

Mirian ground her jaw a bit. She was annoyed, but also knew Xecatl was talking sense. “I’ll tell them after the deed is done. But not yet. There’s too many moving glyph sequences in this spell engine, and it would be too easy to destabilize it. Have the incursions continued?”

“No. They stopped the same cycle Liuan said she took care of Scebur.”

“But you still don’t trust it.”

“I don’t trust anyone who pretends they don’t have secrets. I also don’t trust actions that don’t make sense. A single lunatic might be irrational, but anyone attempting to steer the direction of a country has a plan.”

And yet, Mirian couldn’t be surprised that the time loop had broken the mind of a looper. Troytin had been overcome by delusions. Celen, by despair. Until Xecatl could provide proof of something they needed to worry about, Mirian didn’t want to spend any more time on the matter.

Nevertheless, she was sure they’d discuss this again. Some conversations between Prophets repeated themselves just like everything else in the world.

The servant returned with a small retinue of artisans and guards. Two of them were carrying a chest between them, which they set down before Xecatl and Mirian with a perfunctory bow.

Mirian opened it up and smiled. Each piece had been woven, cut, and stitched to perfection. The silk itself was dyed black, but still kept its violet shimmer. The black dye wasn’t strictly necessary, but she’d decided that her armor should have the same theme as Eclipse. Mythril and adamantium. White and black. That just felt right.

Now, she would spend the next week enchanting the fabric with glyphs and runes.

“You don’t think they’ll notice the destabilization from the brief connection to Divir?”

“I don’t think anyone is actually paying as much attention to the leylines as I am. But this cycle will be perfect for masking anomalies because it’s the first one with the Uxalak Gate open.”

Xecatl sighed. It was short, but heavy with the weight of the future. “I still think you should remove Liuan. Probably Jherica and Celen too, just to be safe. I do like Jherica, but living in that empire does something to poison the mind. Guide Akana yourself.”

Mirian shook her head. “The Ominian sees farther than we do. I will trust Them. We will work together. We will save this place.” She put the royal silks back in the chest and levitated it behind her. “Thank you,” she said.

“As you know, this is not a gift. It is duty.” Xecatl said, “But if you have a moment, Ceiba Yan has been bothering me about you.”

Mirian couldn’t help but smile. “I can spare a bit of time for a friend.” She walked over and put her hand on the trunk of the Sacred Tree. For a time, there was nothing else, just the mingling of souls and that strange perception of the world. There was peace in taking a break from humanity and being a tree for a while.

Together, we grow, Mirian thought to it.

Then, it was time to return to her task.