“While it is not preferable, runes can be written at ground level or even underground. These runes will have significantly less power than those inscribed closer to the winds of magic, meaning the effects of their spells will be scaled down accordingly. A spell designed to provide light that is written high above the ground may last an hour, whereas one written at ground level may only last minutes. A spell that conjures powerful lightning high above may produce only a spark when written below. Healing spells which—”
“I think I get the idea,” Noah cut Ciri off, nodding.
“It was a difficult passage,” Ciri said, glancing at the book spread open in front of him. “Beyond your current reading comprehension levels. I am surprised you were able to translate any of it at all.”
“I must have a good teacher.” He grinned before leaning back in his chair.
After the conversation with her parents, Ciri had practically dragged Noah to the archives to test whether their recovered twin mirror worked with the one on the second level. To their delight—and mild shock—the artifacts performed flawlessly, the two of them calling each other from opposite ends of the archives to confirm it. They’d celebrated in the foyer with kisses before Ciri insisted Noah continue practicing his reading and writing in the Fae language. He’d been diligently translating the book she’d given him about magic for several hours before finally admitting defeat and asking for help with a few particularly difficult sections.
“What are you reading?” he asked, glancing over to the tome in front of her.
“The grimoire recovered from the camp near Rookhaven. There are several potential new spells.”
“We should test them!” he replied enthusiastically.
“While I share your desire for magical rediscovery, I believe caution would serve us better in this instance.”
“Why? I thought we found a translation for what each of the spells did.”
“You are correct, however the translation is in Common – which as you are learning, often has several examples of polysemy.”
Noah blinked in confusion. “Come again?”
“The same word used in different contexts to have different meanings.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Here.” She said turning the book towards him. “Your Common is advanced enough to read that.”
Noah leaned in, furrowing his brow. “It…uh…grounds the target? I think?”
“Correct. Now consider – what do you believe ‘ground’ mean in this context?”
“It forces a flying target to land?” Noah hazarded.
She cocked her head to the side. “I had not considered that. I was attempting to ascertain whether it meant the spell had a stabilizing effect, or whether it meant to disperse magical energy away from the target safely.”
“Oh. Like grounding electricity!” Noah nodded. “Okay, yeah, I see your point there.”
“The visualization of the spell must be the correct one. Miscasts are risky. In a mild case, they could cause the spell to fail outright. In an extreme case, they could cause corruption.”
“Right.” Noah responded. “I see your point now. How can we be sure though?”
She pulled a second tome towards him. “I am cross-referencing descriptions of the spell effects against those in the archives. If a record of an ancient Fae casting a matching spell exists, it may contain the additional details required to triangulate a specific meaning.”
She invented peer review for spell translation. Of course she did. He thought, leaning back again before changing the subject. “I’ve got something unrelated I’d like to talk about,”
“Yes?” she asked.
“This morning with your parents, you volunteered to—”
“I am going to Crownspire, and that is final.” She locked eyes with him, her expression unusually defiant. “I am a capable conduit and will have time to prepare. Additionally, my going is the most logical choice.”
“Ciri, I wasn’t about to—”
“Did you truly believe the things you said?” she pressed. “When you told me I am smart and capable, did you believe it? If you lied, tell me now. Otherwise, you must accept my choice to—”
“Ciri, stop,” he said softly, waiting for her to pause. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“It…is not?”
He took a deep breath. “Listen. I can’t say I love the idea of you going into a potentially dangerous situation. I care about you, and I want you to be safe. But I’m also incredibly proud of you for pushing your limits, and I would never get in the way of your personal growth.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Then…what were you going to say?”
“I was going to offer to help. I can’t teach you magic, but we could probably make a second crossbow for you, and I could teach you how to shoot it,” he said. “Or if not a crossbow, something else. Whatever gives you an edge if you end up in another fight.”
“I…am sorry. My comments were unfounded and unfair, and I should have—”
“I forgive you.” He smiled. “That rant sounded rehearsed, though.”
“I may have practiced versions of it in my mind since this morning. I expected someone to raise objections after the fact, even though the decision has been made—you, my father, my mothers.”
Ah. That explains it, Noah thought before kissing her forehead gently. “You’re used to people underestimating you.”
“Yes,” she replied quietly.
“If I ever do that, you have my full permission to slap me upside the head. Hard.” He grinned. “And for the record: I do think you’re smart and capable. And kind. And brave. And sexy too.”
“Duly noted.” She murmured before he kissed her.
“Now tell me—what sorts of danger do you think you’re going to be in? If I know what we’re up against, I can design something.”
Ciri considered the question. “There are monsters between here and Crownspire, but the main trading routes—including maritime ones—avoid their feeding and nesting grounds. The likelihood of encountering one is relatively low so long as we stay on well‑traveled paths. However, that will draw other threats to us.”
“Like what?”
“Human pirates and thieves patrol those routes, looking for ships and travelers they perceive as valuable and weak.”
Noah nodded slowly. “What kind of weapons would they have?”
“I am not an expert, but historical accounts describe melee weapons mixed with spells.”
“They have conduits and scribes?” he asked, surprised.
“The larger crews would, absolutely. Wind and water spells are effective in maritime settings, both for utility and combat. Land‑based thieves may find similar versatility in fire spells.”
“How about bows? Or other ranged weapons?”
“Likely not, but it is possible.”
He thought for a moment. “How do people typically fight against hostile conduits?”
“With another conduit,” she answered.
“What about non‑magical means?”
“There are very few records of skirmishes between conduits and those who do not use magic where the latter were victorious. The power disparity is too great.” She paused. “Those that were successful—such as Ferrum Vale—used subterfuge, clever tactics, and an alchemical advantage in the form of blood iron.”
“Blood iron isn’t going to work against human pirates, though,” Noah said.
“No, it will not.”
He scratched the back of his head. “We beat a conduit in the forest, though.”
“We had a superior position, and the conduit was distracted.”
Noah frowned, imagining possibilities. “I think I can find a way to get us some superior positioning. It’s not much, but it’s something.” He slumped. “I can’t believe I’m in a world full of magical monsters and our biggest threat is going to be a lack of law enforcement.”
“Law enforcement exists,” she countered. “If the pirates strayed too close to either the Winter or Summer Fae empires, they would be destroyed by their respective navies. However, Therondale’s maritime forces are relatively small by comparison, and they struggle to police their waters.”
He tilted his head as another thought struck him. “What is the relationship like between the human empire and the wild Fae of Therondale? Why do you tolerate living here—ostensibly in a human kingdom?”
She paused. “It is a difficult question to answer. There are many wild Fae tribes on the continent, each of whom treats humans differently. Some kill humans on sight. Others are far more accepting, even allowing humans to live among them. Some wild Fae visit human cities and trade.”
“And the king and queen? How do they feel?”
“In the past they have tried to treat us as subjects. During those periods we would simply retreat deeper into the forests and allow their armies and tax collectors to be killed and eaten by wildlife. Eventually they concluded we are not worth the trouble, and they largely leave us alone. Every so often, though, a lord or baron or some other member of the royalty decides to try to subjugate a local tribe.”
“What happens then?”
“Death and misery,” she said.
“For the humans? Or the Fae?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. I see.” Noah nodded.
Ciri glanced up at the window above them and rose. “We should go. Bryn will be expecting you.”
“Right,” Noah said, then paused. “Wait. One more thing from this morning.”
“Oh?”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty‑eight. Why?”
Always had a thing for older women, he thought before shrugging. “The conversation with your parents this morning—the part about people using magic to stay alive—it just surprised me, that’s all.”
She went quiet for a moment. “I understand how that may be surprising. Fae naturally age more slowly than humans, so I may appear younger than I am. If this is a problem for you romantically—”
“It’s not,” he interrupted. “Not even a little bit.”
“Good.” She nodded.
“The idea of running into someone who’s over a hundred but looks under fifty just…changes how I look at people now.”
“If it helps, the practice is somewhat uncommon among humans.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“From what I have read, human conduits who know the anti‑aging spell and have access to a scribe capable of writing it are rare. Those who can cast it typically charge exorbitant sums, meaning only the very rich and powerful can make use of it.”
Healthcare for the rich, sickness for the poor. Some things never change, Noah thought before brushing the notion aside and leaning in to kiss Ciri one last time.
She flushed deeply but leaned into the kiss a moment later—one that lingered and warmed as they embraced. The knowledge that Bryn was waiting for them kept it from becoming anything more, and far sooner than either of them would have liked, they pulled apart. They tucked their books into Ciri’s satchel and stepped out of the archives into the brilliant mid‑morning sunlight. Noah waved to a few Fae he recognized as they crossed the square, his fingers intertwined with hers the entire way. A few single Fae women looked as though they wanted to approach him, but the sight of him holding Ciri’s hand and walking with purpose seemed to dissuade them.
They reached Bryn’s workshop a few minutes later to find the couple waiting behind the counter.
“Took you long enough,” the artificer said with a grin.
“Had to stop by the archives first,” Noah replied, giving Ciri’s hand a final squeeze before letting go. “Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s start with the obvious,” Bryn said, leading them to the back. “How did your crossbow perform?”
“Saved our lives,” Noah said. “But it jammed once. I think we need to increase the size of the catch so it pulls the string back even when I’m pumping it quickly.”
“Hm.” She took a seat. “I think we can manage that.”
“Thank you. It might make a big difference,” he said. “I’ll also need a few other things.”
“Oh?”
“A second crossbow, for one. Same design.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard now that we’ve nailed it down,” Bryn said. “Looking for a backup?”
“No. One for Ciri.” He nodded toward her.
Bryn raised an eyebrow before Ciri spoke. “I will be accompanying my father on a trip to Crownspire soon. Noah wishes for me to have additional protection.”
Bryn blinked. “I…see. All right. Yes, we can make one for you.” She looked back at Noah. “You said you needed a few other things?”
“Yes. I need a grappling hook.”
“I don’t know what that is,” she said flatly.
Noah crossed to the drawing pads near Cael, grabbed a pencil, and began sketching. “It’s a simple hook I can throw. Four curved metal spikes on one end, a metal loop on the other so I can attach a rope. Like this.”
“Is this a weapon?” Bryn asked.
“It could be,” he admitted. “But it’s mostly a utility tool. It needs to be strong—strong enough to hold my weight and then some.”
Bryn studied the drawing and shook her head. “If anyone else asked me to build this, I’d call them a damned fool. But your designs are worth their weight in gold, so I’m sure we’ll be making dozens before long. I’ll have yours done in a day or two.” She glanced at Ciri. “Er…both of yours.”
“Good. Thank you,” Noah said before Ciri could object. “Now, yesterday you said you had questions?”
“Yes!” Bryn’s face lit up. “A few days ago you mentioned something called ‘rails.’ What are they, and how do they relate to hauling stone from the mountain?”
The rest of the morning proved just how quick a study Bryn was. In the few days he’d been gone, she had already iterated on several of his designs, suggesting ways to incorporate magic or local materials to improve them. Her rapid grasp of the concepts didn’t surprise Noah, but it did reinforce an important realization.
These people are not stupid. Their society just developed differently, he thought as he watched her work the forge. Once I leave here, I’ll have to be careful who I share these ideas with, or I’ll end up on the receiving end of one of my own creations.
When lunch rolled around, Noah found himself in the backyard again. It was a quick meal, after which he returned to the workshop with Bryn to begin work on the new designs. Ciri stayed outside to read, while Cael cleared dishes and bustled around upstairs. By the time the sun began to set, Noah was exhausted but pleased with their progress.
After saying their goodbyes, Ciri and Noah returned to her parents’ house to find they were out visiting friends. Seeing the opportunity, Noah made a beeline for the shower, eager to wash off the soot and dust from the day. He’d been scrubbing for a few minutes when the door handle turned and Ciri slipped into the washroom.
“Everything okay?” he asked, poking his head out from behind the curtain.
“I…” She began, turning crimson.
Concerned, he shut off the water. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she said quickly.
“That’s not what your tone says.”
“I meant what I said.” She met his eyes. “Nothing is wrong. At least, I do not believe so.”
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I am having unfamiliar feelings and am confused by them. They are…embarrassing.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed in front of me,” Noah said gently. “I’m literally baring everything here. I won’t judge your feelings.”
She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I am…wanting.”
“Wanting?”
“Wanting more. Of what we did last night. I want to do it again.”
His manhood began to harden as he replied. “That is nothing to be ashamed of. Why don’t you get undressed and come shower with me?”
She tilted her head in confusion. “I do not believe I need a shower. I was not performing manual labour like you.”
“We’re not just going to be showering.” He said with a grin.