To Fly the Soaring Tides

Yesterday was scarce more than a weary daze. If it weren’t for Cira’s sense of survival kicking in, she may never have allowed herself to be dragged even halfway out of bed. She was pretty sure she at least managed to complete her grand spatial array before turning in, but any number of things could go wrong today.

Cira swallowed her anxiety at not having set foot in the forge in days. There was a long list of artifacts she intended to prepare to prevent her imminent death at the hands of experienced mages with auras intact.

The necromancer was a daunting enough foe, but there was no reason to believe Eliza wouldn’t be ten times as bad. They were simply two different types of opponents—the mysterious arbiter very well could contain a sea of mana more vast than any shadows below, but hidden within.

The safest bet was to assume, at worst, Cira would be fighting multiple casters on par with herself in her prime or potentially even a near-Gazen-level threat if they were really serious about the deritium. As things stood, she was as good as dead.

“Is she up yet?” A voice came from the hall. As Cira clung to her nightstand, casting suspicious glances to Tawny with the orichalcum needle in her hand. Naturally, her suspicions were overridden when a particular scent wafted into the room, shortly followed by Skipper with a plate of food. There was a strangely golden glimmer in his eye, “Oh good. I thought it would go cold.”

Chef and master shared a smile before Tawny threw her hand up between them, “Hold it, buddy! She has to get it herself.”

“You…” The fist which Cira clenched probably wouldn’t have even snapped a dry noodle. Even her sense of reluctance felt meager. “Damn you…”

“Are you stupid?!” Tawny picked up a steaming slice of what looked like bacon and ate it in one bite before grabbing another. “We’ve been trying to wake you for hours. Get dressed and get on the goddamn boat.”

This is fine. I do my best work under pressure.

Still wearing the white and gold robes of her father’s that she had the foresight to put on before passing out, Cira jumped out of bed without any grace at all, like a newborn sea slug. She grabbed her hat off the nightstand and rushed for the door to snatch the food. It was good. Evidently Skipper had learned something about portions because Tawny didn’t even make a dent in the pile of authentic low-altitude bacon he presented. Next to that was what could only be pancakes. The syrup had an unfamiliar, sharp bite to it, but the sweetness brought it all together like a fine tapestry of silk and fleece. The bottom layer of bacon was drenched in the stuff and in a sense, it brought Cira back to life.

All I need is a couple hours. Perhaps if I woke up any sooner, I’d only burn out. How does that saying go? ‘A sorcerer never wakes up late…’ or something along those lines.

Tawny, Skipper, then Jimbo, James, Shores, and a menagerie of mages all watched her eat an unreasonably heaping plate of breakfast as she ignored them in rapid succession and without regret. The moment that was over, she directed the onlookers to grab Shadow Quill, Conduit, and the orichalcum staff on their way upstairs.

The splendorous staff of earth her father wielded took five men to carry and they almost dropped it going up the stairs. Luckily, Jimbo avoided breaking his only foot—a chipped stone step was easy enough to fix later.

Those five were sweating bullets by the time they made it to the lawn where the rest had gathered. The abyss encased them in every direction, contrasted only by the vibrant flowers of Cira’s garden, but her smile was not so bright this morning. Everyone currently on Breeze Haven was gathered here looking quite troubled. They all knew well where she was going, and roughly how dangerous it would be.

“Put these staves in here,” Cira handed Tawny another ring from her nightstand before turning to the brothers whose brows were thoughtfully knit. “How does my Aquon fare?”

It took them a moment, but realization dawned simultaneously for the brothers. “Oh! Uh… We’re really sorry…” The trepidation and hint of shame on their faces made Cira incredibly nervous, but Lero had already run inside. Seconds later, he returned with the punch bowl in question.

“You see… After the first evening, it turned to stone.” He turned the bowl toward Cira and presented Aquon. It was no longer a brilliant cerulean jewel cut into a complex pattern which shined with peerless radiance, but more of raw gem or a budding crystal. It didn’t shine at all. “There was nothing we could do, but it kept soaking up water, so we just kept pouring it in. Did… Did we destroy your precious treasure?”

There was a wide grin on Cira’s face now as she picked it up in her palm. At her touch, the blue gem flared to life with all the radiance she remembered. “Quite the opposite. You two have done a fine job.”

She took a few moments to let a small stream of water flow out. Nothing like she carried in the depths of Fount Salt, but a little orbiting river would be great for getting the hang of the powers her blessing granted—not to mention, it just made her feel better.

Of course, Aquon fit best around her finger, so she quickly turned it into a ring and slipped it on. Strangely, a ball of crystal decided to stay out. Cira wasn’t sure if it was an issue with her control over the new powers or a result of whatever Aquon was going through, but the floating gem was not unwelcome.

“Are you sure none of us can come with you?” Shores asked with utmost sincerity, “We can help… Even if only a little.”

“We’ll just get in her way…” Gil spoke in remorse. “She already told you the plan.”

“She has that creepy spider too.” Tawny added, “She’ll be fine.”

Her student patting her on the back and urging her to the boat gave her mixed feelings, but she couldn’t risk anyone else’s life.

“Alright, then. I’ll be—urgh…” Cira had to use her whole body to crawl into the dinghy before slumping against the side, hanging onto the wheel for support. “I’ll be back. Just be ready to leave when that time comes.”

___

Cira didn’t like traveling under the sun at the moment, which in and of itself troubled her greatly. For one, Shadow Quill only contained so much mana, and the heat seemed to beat down on her. Cira could feel herself rapidly running out of energy just to sit upright in the boat.

“On second thought,” Mac said, “Maybe you will die this afternoon.”

“Don’t be like that.” Cira wasn’t in the mood for such negativity, “I’m really counting on you today.”

“For what?” The boat stayed close to the canopy, so it would still be difficult for a distant spyglass to see them. “I thought you had a plan. I don’t even know why you brought me along.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Cira followed the river she had enchanted through transitive property. It was downstream from the waterfall and would lead her straight to the meeting place of one week prior. High noon approached again. “You’re my backup. If the enemy refuses to negotiate, my array fails, and/or they’re too powerful to defeat, you must consume them. I will accept my moral punishment at a later date if Eliza is supporting an orphanage or something, but I don’t really have time to care further today. That’s my plan.”

“I know it may seem simple enough to rely on me, but if there are too many, I could only devour their souls in utmost reluctance. I don’t need any more Gazens to come looking for me, thank you.” The spider had to obey her orders if she demanded, but he really leaned into the fact that Cira wasn’t entirely comfortable with that. “You’re the one who told me culling the masses was bad, weren’t you?”

Cira didn’t really like the eight-legged bastard taking the moral high ground over her, but she had to admit, he had a point here. “I’m not asking you to slaughter everyone in sight. Just back me up. Damn.”

Evidently, the crew had lied to her. According to Mac, they were a few hours early. Clearly, they had learned well, but this still only gave her a short while to make preparations she initially intended to spend all night working on.

Realistically, why wouldn’t the Third Order show up early? She not only needed to set everything up, but make sure she arrived before them on the day of to ensure they didn’t tamper with anything. A mere few hours early was bupkis. As good as showing up on time. A sorcerer never woke up late, but, well, she was on vacation.

“Good grief, I can feel your heartrate from here.” Mac’s oppressive and omnipresent voice didn’t help, “Just relax. How is this different from any other day you face death? You can belittle a greater spirit, but voluptuous old women is where you draw the line?”

“She is not—that’s not what this is about.” The spider always spoke as if the outcome didn’t really matter to him. After all, if Cira died, he was free. But he was misrepresenting her concerns, “That woman is strong, and I can only imagine there are more like her. There’s no way they will just laugh it off when I tell them what I did with the deritium…”

Naturally, that’s all she had to do to fulfill her end of the deal and receive the nectar, but this would not be the first time her clever wordplay came back to bite her in the ass.

“So? If they’re so adamant to be unreasonable, why should you care about their fate?” Mac, the ageless and unprecedented asshole, was acting remarkably kind today. “Are you so broken you’ve forgotten all the preparations you’ve made? Your students acted and improved not to further their own power, but to ensure your survival. To what end is beyond my myriad eyes, but don’t you feel the weight of all those pouches at your waist?”

Now that he mentioned it, she had a few more than usual. Everything she wanted to have after she was reforged was in a single ring, so the pouches evidently held all the artifacts her students prepared.

“They really did outdo themselves—” she was cut off sternly by Mac’s words.

“There she is… Still a few miles away. You have to hurry.”

Cira knew exactly what he meant—Eliza approached. She picked up speed and Kuja’s dinghy raced over the river’s path until a massive palm showed itself. Mac confirmed they were the first ones there and she brought it down.

Without wasting mana, the only way to set up her array was to do so manually. The three keystones of Cira’s island-wide spatial formation each weighed almost as much as her. She was reduced to rolling or flipping them over until they were roughly spaced out. This was the hardest work she had done in years.

After catching her breath, Cira employed a degree of practical geomancy to form a table and chairs ahead of time. She even made a third chair for Kristof—one with shorter legs and no back, distanced a fair deal from the table. The only element left to ensure smooth negotiations were refreshments. With Aquon’s river flowing gently around her, she took the rest of Mac’s countdown to shape the pitcher she intended to fill.

It ended up as a bust of a winged angel—no, a seraph—with her jaw wrenched open in agony, from which cool waters would flow.

“Those two are here… And I see six more in hiding just nearby.” Mac spoke into her mind, “I hope you’re ready.”

“Well, aren’t you the punctual one?” Eliza’s gentle voice carried from the canopy above as an unrecognized boat parted the fronds above. An unassuming and aged wooden vessel, It bore three claw marks as if a kind of insignia. “It’s good you’ve had plenty of time to set up, too.”

The undoubtably old woman’s genial grin betrayed none of the dubious nature which dripped from her tone, but Cira wouldn’t let herself be caught off guard this time. This next stratagem ensured her desires were immediately addressed and bypassed unnecessary pleasantries. It was a simple matter to ‘slice the melon down the middle’.

“Cut the shit.” Cira demanded, “Show me the nectar.”

“There’s no need to be rude—Oh goodness, dear! You look awful.” Eliza’s dark red hair glistened in the dappled light and framed an expression of unfounded concern. Meanwhile, her trainee, Kristof, moored their boat against the great palm’s trunk.

“You can say that again.” The novice mage parroted, “She looks like she’s going to keel over any second. And here I thought you couldn’t look any more like a hag than you already—glrughhhdhghghhghGHGHHH!”

“Why did you even bring this arrogant dilettante?” Cira’s fingers wiggled like tentacles as water was rapidly forced into Kristof’s mouth and nasal cavities. “Are you perhaps expecting me to teach him something?”

Cira couldn’t help suppressing a cough, but Eliza was too focused grinning at her sidekick to notice, “My, my, it seems there’s nowhere else he can learn manners so thoroughly. I suppose I owe you for the care.” There were pockets of air within the water which cycled through Kristof’s respiratory region, and it was easy to separate from water. The convenient place to store it was his lungs, so she could continue her lecture from the other day.

“One of the very first lessons that children ages six and above learn is to not let foreign substances enter their body unintentionally. Water is basically number one on that list—into the lungs should be far beyond common sense to base instinct. Aren’t you supposed to be a spatial mage? Have you forgotten what I told you about domains? You know you should always have one up, right?” Cira emptied his lungs entirely using the power of hydraulic suction and reintroduced new air because she didn’t have enough control over air or his body to properly emulate a full lung cycle. Thus continued his lesson in impertinence, “Now, I will need at least five minutes until your next lesson.”

The water which gripped his face and torso had slowly worked him over to the side where there was a short stool. His knees met his chest as his back rested against a young palm and he panted in deep, desperate breaths, clutching the sand with one hand.

While he was incapacitated to a degree, Cira thought it was time to move this along, but Eliza had already dawned her predatory grin by the time she looked over, “I can tell you conjured the water from within that ring… but there was not an ounce of mana within it. How are you doing that, broken girl that you are?”

“I don’t think she can see sigils,” Mac said, “Or maybe she’s trying to gauge your response.”

“Big help, pal.”

Cira maintained focus on the unpredictable mage. Her answer was a deflection, but it felt like it needed to be said all the same, “This ring was a gift. Set your eyes on it, and we will be fast enemies. I believe you should be in possession of—”

“Just hold on a moment, dear…” Somehow, Eliza looked concerned with sincerity in this moment, “Kristof had a point. How are you even alive? I don’t think vestigial nectar can help you anymore… Won’t you come back with me?”