Underkeeper

Bernt gripped at the wand in his sleeve, struggling to keep himself from casting any spells as he made his way toward the gate. It would be irresponsible—not to mention rude—to start casting fire magic on a crowded public street. He had the perfect spot to practice down near the river: a rocky beach with nothing but a bit of wet grass to burn. While the spells wouldn’t be inherently more powerful yet, not without a complete augmentation, the way they manifested and their utility would be different. He knew what to expect from the architecture notes, but he’d learned years ago not to rely on theory over practice if he could help it.

Besides, he was still a bit sore from yesterday. He needed to keep it small and deliberate. Nothing flashy, and not too many spells. He needed to make each one count to learn as much as he could without slowing his recovery.

Bernt approached the gate and moved to step through when a guard held up a hand, palm out. He had an ugly bruise running down one side of his face—no one had come through yesterday without some kind of mark on them.

“Underkeeper,” the man said, his tone firm, but far more respectful than he’d ever heard from a guard before yesterday. “Orders from the general are that everyone who’s been inside the dungeon is required to assemble at the main breach at their earliest convenience. They want you to support the soldiers as they push down into the tunnels.”

Bernt’s excitement wilted. Ed had said he wouldn’t be sent down until tomorrow!

He thought about lying and telling the man he hadn’t been inside. But… there was no point. Someone would recognize him sooner or later. He also wouldn’t be surprised if all of the Underkeepers had been sent down—they’d been running the defense, after all.

Maybe the truth would work.

“I injured my mana network in the battle yesterday.” He tried to sound steady, but even he could hear the desperation underlying his tone. “I’m not fit to fight. They can’t expect us to dive in there right after a battle like this!”

The man shrugged. “It’s orders. So far as I understand it, they don’t want you for fighting—it’s just to show them around. I don’t know if they’re even going in today.”

Bernt’s jaw clenched. This seemed… weird. Why round them up like this right now? Moreover, the orders had to be very recent, or Ed would have known about them already. Wouldn’t he?

“Look. I just got a new pyromancy investiture. That means my spells aren’t going to do what I’m used to. So, the first time a mob of kobolds run at us, I have to either let them cut me down or risk setting fire to our own people. I need to go through that gate to at least try out a handful of spells, so I know what I’m working with.”

The guard looked over his shoulder, out the gate.

“Is that why you wanted to get outside the walls?”

Bernt nodded, and the guard grimaced.

“I can’t let you leave—It’s not up to me, really. It could be considered dereliction of duty… But you just need an open space that won’t burn, right?”

“Right,” Bernt said. A little spark of hope ignited in his chest.

“Okay. I’m just going to have Kane over there lead you up to the top of the wall. It’s all stone. You should be able to avoid burning anything there. I can give you a couple of minutes, but if any soldiers come by, we need to escort you down there immediately. You understand?”

“Yes!” Bernt said quickly. “That’ll work great, thanks. Which way?”

Moments later, a lanky young guard, still more of a boy than a man, led Bernt into the gatehouse and up a set of stairs that led onto the wide rampart.

“You can cast magic fire?” Kane asked with wide eyes. “Like fireballs and stuff? I thought Underkeepers didn’t do that kind of thing. My dad always said you guys were the dregs!”

Bernt snorted, feeling a little offended on behalf of his colleagues. “Your dad doesn’t know everything. Make sure you stay back here by the door. I have to adjust my spellcasting.”

Leaving his wand tucked securely up his sleeve for now, Bernt raised his hands and began writing the extremely familiar spellform for a fire dart out in front of him. He could cast one of these almost instantly when using his wand—the focus condensed mana and made it easier to shape as he cast. It took a bit longer without using a focus, but he figured this would give him a more… direct feel for what had changed. Even so, he only actually drew the primary runes in the air with his fingers, willing the rest of the spellform into being directly through his spirit before casting it straight into the nearest merlon.

The dart looked the same at first—a dense little sliver of fire. But when it struck, it didn’t just burn itself out on the stone. Instead, the spell splashed, spattering burning plasma out from the point of impact that stuck and dribbled down all around it, leaving behind a hundred tiny scorch marks before winking out.

Well. That was different. He could guess what would happen with a fireball. His fire spells had just become a lot more dangerous—not to mention messier. How was he supposed to use this in close quarters, or with any allies around?

Bernt would need to find some new fire spells, or maybe modify some he already knew. He’d need to think about it later. The current priority was to figure out all he could about how his magic had been affected. He found a bucket and a rag someone had left sitting next to the door. Kane watched him dubiously as he grabbed the damp rag, but Bernt didn’t explain.

Holding it in his right hand, he used his left to cast a duplication cantrip. Then he yelped and dropped the rag on the ground. Or rather, rags—two of them. They looked identical, but Bernt knew the amount of material used for both objects hadn’t changed. The spell had worked, sort of. What was different was that both of them were scaldingly hot and smoldering at the edges.

Confused, Bernt stared at them for a moment. He started casting the spell again, but stopped just before the spellform completed. He needed a better idea of what he was actually casting.

Sure enough, the spellform manifesting in front of him was wrong. Yes, everything that he’d drawn in himself, and all of the details that he’d willed in on purpose, were there. But he’d also somehow included several bits of the spellform from his investiture. Not the entire thing, just a few aspects of it, as if his spirit or the spell itself automatically added in all the parts that “fit.”

To test his theory, he grabbed one of the rags and tossed it toward the wall, casting an adhesion cantrip as quickly as he could. The rag stuck to the stone, steaming at first. A moment later, it glowed with heat as it disintegrated. Duplication would have weakened the material quite a bit, so it probably burned faster than it normally would have.

Still, this meant his regular glue spell might now have some combat applications…

Then again, Bernt admitted grudgingly to himself, if he’d been more creative, maybe it could have been useful for fighting before. Heat prickled down his back in sudden embarrassment at the thought. How could the other cantrips and basic spells he knew come in handy in a fight? And why hadn’t he considered this before?

Sure, war mages didn’t concern themselves with minor spells, because they usually worked together and on a grand scale. They fought armies, not individuals—and his education as a pyromancer was meant to prepare him for the military, not adventuring. Adventurers had to react quickly and flexibly to changing situations and to the actions of a single enemy. He couldn’t afford to not know how to use all his skills to their fullest potential, and he didn’t have the experience to just… do it right. He would have to talk to someone with real experience and ask for help.

The thought made his stomach flip, but he suppressed it. If he’d asked for help sooner, or just accepted what was offered, he might have avoided a lot of the suffering he’d gone through in the past few weeks. He wouldn’t even be in the position he was in now if he hadn’t let Ed finally push him into accepting some support, both for himself and Jori. But he had a little time, at least.

Right now, he was working on controlling his investment, and he could do that on his own. A burning adhesion cantrip was neat, but he needed it to work normally. Reaching down and grabbing the other rag, he then cast the spell again, stopping before he actually manifested the spell to examine his work. Just like last time, there were several parts of the spellform that just didn’t belong. They’d simply manifested into the spell through his spirit. With an effort of will, he stripped the foreign bits out of the spell and released the rag, tossing it up next to the first. It stuck there, just as it was supposed to.

Of course, Bernt had technically learned what an investment was supposed to do back at the academy. What the investiture did was to “invest” him with an instinctual control over the arcane aspects of the material used. Several of his textbooks had covered the topic in detail—but those were written in such an abstruse manner that he only now really understood it. In practical terms, all of his spells would be supplemented with appropriate bits of his investiture’s spellform. To cast spells normally from now on, he would have to manually strip out those aspects. A full augmentation was supposed to make this even more difficult, which led most mages to pursue ever greater specialization as they advanced.

Bernt was about to try to cast a basic aeromancy spell when he was interrupted by a polite cough. Looking over, he saw the guard he’d spoken to earlier standing next to Kane.

“Soldiers are coming through—time’s up. You should get over to the main breach before someone asks questions about the Underkeeper on the wall.”

Bernt did his best to give the man a smile and nodded. The man had done his best, and it wasn’t his fault.

“Sure,” he said. “Thanks for covering for me.”

***

Jori had no difficulty getting to the main breach, but she ran into a problem once she arrived. Ed had told her Dayle would be here at the breach with the soldiers, but he was nowhere in sight. Even when she climbed up the back of one of the buildings and onto the roof for a better vantage, she couldn’t see anyone in gray robes—just uniformed soldiers, as well as quite a few adventurers in their more individualized gear. Judging by the faint echoes coming from down in the tunnel, she guessed he was already inside. Someone was fighting in there, at least.

But if she wanted to go look, she would have to get past the soldiers who were guarding the tunnel. She didn’t especially want to try just walking in—at least not without anyone to vouch for her. So, Jori decided to wait for a few minutes. There were still a lot of people massing here, maybe another Underkeeper would arrive, or maybe Iriala. Worst case, she would have to go back to Ed and see if he could get her in safely.

As she watched, Jori noticed the soldiers were split into groups that stood in ranks, waiting to be sent in. Each group looked a little bit different, though. One group held spears, another had one-handed axes and shields. A small team of ten soldiers carried massive identical runed hammers. There were mages, too, wearing different-colored bits of cloth around their arms. She hadn’t watched the fight here personally last time, but Bernt had been right there—she’d had a good look through him and recognized the geomancers wearing brown.

Unlike the soldiers, the adventurers milled around, chatting animatedly with one another. They didn’t all look like they wanted to be there. A few were arguing, and more than one tried to turn around and slink away. They didn’t make it very far, though. The soldiers guarding the perimeter always intercepted them and turned them back politely but firmly. One adventurer stood out from the others. He was just… huge. Not overly tall, really—just too wide for a normal person. Unnaturally wide.

Jori’s eyes widened. He was too wide because he wasn’t a human! It was Furin! Eagerly, she craned her neck, and was rewarded with the sight of Elyn standing next to him. A moment later, she thought she also caught a glimpse of Therion’s face in the crowd.

They could get her inside! In fact, several of the adventurers would probably recognize her. Trying not to think about what might happen if the soldiers took a hostile interest in her before she reached someone familiar, Jori scrambled down the outside of the house toward an empty alley with the unnatural agility of a spider. She peered around the corner to make sure nobody was looking right at her, and then walked briskly over to the adventurers. While she wanted to run as fast as she could, she knew it would draw more attention if she did—besides, it might provoke a less friendly response from the adventurers themselves.

There was a shout somewhere behind her, but she’d already made it, nodding toward a dwarf adventurer who gawked at her as she passed. He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded back.

It was working!

Unable to help herself, she snuck a glance over her shoulder. A perimeter guard was staring at her, a spear held in both hands, but he hadn’t lowered it. No one was coming her way—the guard was apparently taking his cue from the lack of response she’d received from the adventurers.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Jori pushed on, quickly finding Furin and the rest of Bernt’s party all assembled.

“Hello!” she called out, walking up to them and waving energetically.

Syrah turned with a sour frown marring her face. Of course she would be the first to notice her.

“It’s the demon,” she said. “Where’s Bernt?”