While I managed to get a decent amount of blood off me, my hair was still sticking together in congealed clumps, and I had the constant smell of copper on me. The water generator helped a bit, but without a river or something, completely cleaning myself was impossible.
As for trophies from the dragon. I wasn't overly interested, but I walked away with several long white teeth that felt as hard as steel and a dozen scales the size of dinner plates that reminded me of stained glass.
We tried eating the beast, but the meat was acrid and was as hard as shoe leather. The Andregi instead spent an hour hunting and came back with a few hares. It seemed a shame to toss dragon meat, but we weren't that desperate to stomach it.
We could only carry so much; Caan, of course, carried the azurite gem. We left the loot at the base of the plateau as we walked across the field of burnt bones towards the dragon’s lair. It was a painful climb, but we had a few hours of sunlight remaining.
Caan, Lindra, Korin, and Morah carried magical lights that, with a focused binding from me, shone brighter than normal, enough to light up the large cavern.
The tall obsidian walls of the cavern reflected the light rather beautifully; what we saw, however, was rather morose.
It wasn't like the stories; there was no hoard of gold and gems to collect, just a large pile of bones in what my mind took too long to realize was a nest.
I bounded over to it; it was ten feet wide. A part of me was excited; the idea of hatching a dragon was tantalizing. As soon as I got to the center and found said eggs, I was disappointed.
The smell hit me before I saw them. The sulfurous smell of rot was easy to identify. The eggs were smooth and slightly metallic, but all six of them were cracked, warped, or completely broken.
It was the final proof that all dragons on Aniera were dead.
“Find anything?” Morah shouted to me.
“Some eggs, but they’re long dead and rotten,” I shouted back, climbing out of the nest.
“Anyone else find anything?” I asked the rest of the group.
“Found some weapons, worthless since they’re melted and burnt to all hell,” Lindra shouted back. I walked over to see her pointing to a scattering of simple swords.
“Fancy-looking armor,” Morah said.
Raising an eyebrow, I walked across the cavern, noting Morah looking down at a familiar piece of steel armor with primitive-looking filigree.
‘Well, hello there. It's old, but I recognize that style of armor.'
“What is that doing here?” Korin said, recognizing the armor. Everyone came walking over, staring and noticing the excitement.
Grinning, I stepped past Morah and picked up the steel bracer. Clearly, it was built for a man; as expected, inside the bracer were runes.
Remembering all of Heywood's abilities, I completely abandoned searching the rest of the cavern and focused entirely on the bracer. We had a deal to pool everything found in the dragon’s lair and divide the loot using lots.
I couldn't care less what the plan was; I was going to have the bracer. They could argue about any of the pieces of worthless trash lying around. Perhaps it was my manic stare, but no one complained as I stashed the bracer in my pack.
Morah stared angrily at the dragon’s nest and then stomped on the rotted shells. “Were the tales of dragons stealing the wealth of kingdoms all false?” He complained to no one.
“Dragons need metal in their diet,” I explained. “And humans tend to hoard a large amount of it.”
He turned to look at me in disbelief. “Truly?” I nodded, and he sighed in disappointment.
We searched the cave for over an hour, finding a few more scraps of armor and weapons. Bits of metal and a few ancient-looking gold coins were lying about. They were similar to Elis’s coin, though a bit more tarnished.
“It seems we are out of luck for the day. But we all know the gem and our lives are the real prize.” Caan announced.
“Hold there, Caan!” Lindra shouted excitedly. She was running over with a blade that wasn't a half-melted and tarnished mess.
It was an arm-length, leaf-shaped blade, made of bronze, surprisingly.
“A bronze blade?” Morah asked.
Lindra and Nara came over, examining the blade.
The alloy was long outdated; any bronze weapons were largely ceremonial. I turned to leave before Nara caught my attention. “Myr, this is magic, isn’t it?”
I turned on my heels and walked over to her, examining the blade. There were indeed runes along the blade. “It is.” It was considerably chipped, and the runes were damaged, but it would still probably work. I just needed to take the time to understand it.
“You’re not getting this one,” Lindra smiled at me. I shrugged, returning the smile. “Very well, but you'll need a magus to get it working, and there’s no one else around.” There was little point in forcing the issue since the blade clearly wasn't enchanted.
“Sounds like a deal,” Lindra said.
~
There was nothing else of note in the dragon’s nest, nor was I interested in what valuables could be found. Sure, there were a few scrabbles of gold. I even ended up finding a few other pieces of armor from whatever unfortunate magus the dragon killed. Apparently, enchanted items could be destroyed with enough heat. The runes inside were warped and melted into an unrecognizable mess.
With our mission complete, we buried the remains of Norah without ceremony since none of us cared beyond Morah. He didn't seem torn up about the loss of his twin, though he did spend an hour alone by the grave.
The bracer was all that I cared about for the moment. The circuit inside was true art. I examined it, took notes, and slowly deciphered what it was trying to do.
I didn't so much as spare any of my allies a scrap of attention as I devoted myself to study. First of all, it was applying a force, but not in the normal sense.
Runes usually instructed matter in some form: heat, move, expand, contract, decompose, and recompose. It was always interacting with matter; this time, it was applying force to force. It was like applying reverse heat to heat.
Without an understanding of what the runes were doing, I could never successfully create the binding.
“Having trouble?” Lindra asked. I refused to work on her blade before I completed the bracer.
I sighed and tossed the bracer to the ground. “It’s a bit complex,” I said, staring into the campfire.
“I thought runes explained what magic does.” Korin inquired.
I nodded. “They do; this magic negates an endless pulling field. What does that mean to you?”
Blank stares were my answer. “If I had an example of the magic being used, then it would be easier, but I do not; therefore, I have to rely on interpretation.”
Nara grimaced and asked, “You make magic sound so uninteresting.”
Lindra looked at my right gauntlet. “Is that the same thing with your fire?”
‘It’s not like you could ever learn just from explaining. Besides, it might create some inspiration.’
Raising my palm, a foot-tall spiraling cone of red and blue fire erupted. They had seen so much magic at this point that there was little surprise. “This is no different than a candle. Create fuel, push the air, and heat it for ignition.”
“So the runs say that?” Caan asked, sitting forward and watching the flame.
I nodded. “Basically, yes. It's simple and easy to understand; I could have deciphered it without any examples, but this…” I gestured to the glove. “It is far more exotic; therefore, I am stumped.”
“You don’t push the air with a candle,” Lindra said.
I shrugged. “You do with a bellows, either way; a flame still needs fresh, new air.”
Lindra furrowed her brow in contemplation. “If that’s the case, then how does a candle get fresh air when no one’s pushing it?”
“It’s self-evident that hot air rises, and cold air rushes in to replace it. It’s just how gravity works.”
I got confused stares from the Northerners. Korin and I shared an amused glance.
“Gravity?” Caan asked.
‘Sometimes I forget that Northerners are a bit backward.’
I explained. “It’s the force that keeps things on the ground. The greater the mass in a given volume, the greater the weight. That’s why iron weighs more than wood.” The Andregi nodded in acceptance.
“You’re well read,” Korin noted.
“I’m a magus; I have to be.”
“So gravity affects everything, even flying birds?” Nara asked.
“Yes, but the complex dynamics of flight are beyond me,” I said.
Lindra laughed to herself. “So without gravity, we’d all be floating around.”
That idea tickled the back of my mind. I pushed the conversation out of my mind as I contemplated the subject.
‘Lindra was correct; we would be floating around. But what if it was a half? Or quarter? I would weigh less, respectively. If I weighed less, what could I do? Run faster? Jump higher?’
My eyes peeled open as I remembered Heywood leaping from rooftop to rooftop, surviving a fall that should have shattered his knees and ankles.
‘What if gravity were more than just a natural force holding you to the ground? What if it was pulling you to the ground? No, what if the ground was pulling you? Not just you, everything, everyone, all the time, regardless of how high up you are. An infinite pulling field.’
I started laughing to myself. ‘That’s what Heywood was doing, negating the effect of gravity. But wait, magic can't affect the living. Don't be a fool, Myr; it doesn't stop someone from being burned by your flames. The effect on weight is indirect.’
I stood, walked over to the bracer, removed my own, and slid it onto my arm. ‘He must be expanding the sphere of influence to encompass his entire body.’
“Myr, are you alright?” Lindra asked, but I ignored her as I created the dual binding. Just in case I needed more power than normal.
“She’s solved the problem,” Korin explained. “I’ve seen the look before.” Korin bit her lips, showing a bit of stress, and mumbled to herself. “Such a loss.”
At first, I felt nothing, but slowly, as I increased the draw from my amulet, I felt the weight leaving my body. I kept pushing the binding until there was roughly a 10% drain per second.
‘Curious, it isn't linear.’
I squatted down and, with as much strength as I could muster, leaped into the air.
I launched nearly 15 feet straight upward; I flailed my arms, not prepared for how high I went. My audience gasped and cheered as I fell back down. The landing was harsh but not as severe as it would be under normal circumstances.
Lindra, with a laugh, said, “If we didn’t just kill a dragon yesterday, that would have been the most amazing thing I had ever seen.”
I smiled at her and tossed her the bracer. “Give it a try.” She caught it with a raised eyebrow.
Lindra slid the bracer onto her wrist and walked into the center of the camp. Her gait was a bit unsteady, unused to the reduction in gravity, and then she launched nearly 20 feet into the air, laughing maniacally.
‘Such strong legs.’ I glanced down to the bracer she was currently handing to Nara. ‘I wonder if I could fly with this?’
~
I couldn't fly, unfortunately. As the reduction in gravity got closer to 100%, the increase in energy draw was beyond exponential. The energy draw followed an odd curve. At 50% I could maintain it for over two minutes. At 75, it was at best 30 seconds; at 90, it was roughly 10 seconds.
There was something I didn't understand about gravity that resulted in the energy draw increasing to infinity the closer I got to full negation. The amount of mass didn't matter, only the size of the sphere of influence.
‘Either way, so many uses. For one, transporting goods and travel, while a 90% reduction is far too energy-intensive, 50% is more than manageable for several minutes. With a steady power source, I could maintain it indefinitely.’
That brought another thought to the forefront of my mind.
‘If the magi truly dedicated themselves to the betterment of humanity, the empire could be a paradise of plenty.’
I laughed to myself at the stupidity of the idea. People were worthless idiots for the most part; even if they had everything they needed, opportunities aplenty, food, shelter, and water, they would find a way to ruin it.
Better I have the power and use it for a truly noble purpose, which was, of course, serving my own interests. Give it to a noble fool, and their head would be filled with moronic ideas like dedicating themselves to the good of humanity or, even more stupid, sharing the power. I shivered at the thought, imagining those peasants with the powers of a magus. It would be the end of the world.
~
As we walked, I examined the bronze blade. It was relatively simple, at the very least, compared to the reverse gravity circuit. At best, it was a novelty; at worst, it would prove more dangerous to the user than the enemy.
Some moron thought it was a good idea to build up a static charge inside the bronze blade. I accidentally learned the rune for lightning, which, oddly enough, translated to “reverse energy” in runes.
Certainly odd, since that would mean massive lightning strikes were a buildup of reverse energy in the clouds. The blade pulled this reverse energy from the surrounding air onto the blade. Until some critical point was reached, and the energy would jump to the ground or to metal armor, like lightning.
While I couldn't remember the arcane circle on Elis's hand well enough to reproduce it, I did remember it was significantly more complex than the one on the bronze blade. In fact, I was reasonably sure it and the reverse gravity circuit were centuries old.
That also made me assume that what Heywood used was significantly refined. Either way, it was a good starting point. I so desperately wanted to settle down and do some true research and experimentation. There were so many things I could build and create.
I needed resources, a truly massive amount, but I burned every bridge in the empire. I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts from my mind. It was time to focus on the final hurdle; the dragon was dead, and I had my reward waiting for me.
I just needed to grab the gem and the books and disappear.
Easy enough.
~
As we traveled back west, there was an underlying tension growing amongst the group. Morah was silent, probably due to his dead brother. I couldn't care less about him at this point. Korin was antsy, constantly eyeing the sack that held the gem.
Facing death with someone might create a bond, but not after time has passed. The metal bracer used gold embossing inside to create the arcane circle, so while it was big, it was enchanted and efficient, which was enough for me.
“Care to do some more hops and flips for us, Myr?” I was experimenting quite a bit with the reverse gravity circuit. It was quite fun and practical; I could clamber up a tree with little effort and jump from 50 feet up and fall without much pain, provided my reservoir holds out for the duration of the fall.
My experimentation was a source of entertainment, and my falls even more so.
“None for today, Morah,” I said.
He sighed in disappointment, “Well, there goes the rest of my day.” Then he clapped his hands and said, “Well, there is one thing we can do.”
“That is?” Nara asked, sounding resigned.
Morah looked smug. “Our rewards, we never got to them, you know.”
“What does it matter? It’s all obvious anyways.” I said.
“You already have everything figured out?” He asked.
I started with myself, “Clearly, I want magical nonsense.” Then I pointed to him. “You want to retire from your life of crime. Truly retire.”
“The Andregi intend to bring home a reward as a part of their pilgrimage south. One of them is vying for the clan chief. Not Caan. Lindra, or Nara, women are not typically accepted; therefore, they need something truly exceptional to present. They are a warrior society, so the obvious answer is weapons of war, a large amount of them.” I didn't bother looking at them; I could be wrong, of course, but I doubted it.
“What about our noble woman?” Morah asked.
“That’s a mystery; it could be anything, really. Avoiding a bad match or securing a better one, getting out of debt, or a thousand other things. But she wants power and position for the good of her family. It’s not that interesting of a puzzle.”
He glowered at me, clearly displeased that I ruined his fun.
“Enough distractions; we have an issue that needs to be addressed,” Korin announced.
‘Ah, so it begins.’
Grim faces stared back at her. She continued undaunted, “We will be approaching the Tar Flats in a few days. We have the gem to worry about.”
Caan responded first, “We have a plan already; we only need to follow it.”
Korin sniffed and stared at me without any fear. “Myr, the maiden of fire. You know there is one fact about her that cannot be denied: her ability to lie and manipulate. Your suspicion of me is just, but do you believe she is without reproach?”
Morah looked interested. “You believe she has a plan.”
Korin nodded. “Yes, if I understand her enough. I would plan to retrieve the reward and spirit the gem away. Your distrust of me is understandable, but when did you delude yourself into believing that the maiden of fire could be trusted? ”
Morah looked at me with an amused smile. “She does have a point, Myr.”
‘I knew this would have happened eventually. Smart to stay silent until we defeated the dragon, Korin. I can still make this work, though. There’s one thing I can do that you can’t, my dear, and that is telling the truth.’
“She’s right, actually. I don't actually know what the gem is used for, but it's certainly some kind of magic. If I could run off with both it and my reward safely, I would have.”
Nara frowned, “And you expect us to trust you?”
“I expect you to trust my self-interest. As much as I would like to have the gem, I don’t know what it does. Selling it would be impossible; where would I find someone to purchase it without our employer or the magisterium getting wind of it?”
Morah gave me an amused smirk. “You realize that even those words we would see as another manipulation.”
“Fair enough, but as a gesture of goodwill. I’ll tell you exactly what my reward is, if Korin permits me.”
Everyone looked at me with a combination of shock and disbelief.
Lindra laughed. “So, if Korin tells you to, you'll tell us truthfully.”
“Why?” Nara asked.
“Because. Depending on how close to our employer our dear Korin is, she might actually know what it is.” I smiled at her.
Korin was stone-faced, but I could see the underlying tension. Then she made a decision. “Do as you wish. I know not your reward.” She said casually.
In truth, I couldn't tell if she already knew, but it didn't matter. I just wanted to plant the idea in everyone's head. Once planted, it would sow doubt.
“My reward was a pound of magical metal known as orichalcum.” For an instant, confusion flashed across Korin’s face. “It’s rumored that only a hundred pounds of it has ever been discovered.”
‘There it is; that’s all the proof I needed. Everyone was just mildly interested, but you already knew, didn't you? Who are you, Korin? And what do you get out of this? But it doesn't matter yet. You can’t tell them I’m lying now; you already gave me the advantage. Once I maneuver these fools where I want them, I’ll walk away with everything.’
“What does orichalcum do?” Nara asked.
“It creates the condenser.” I reached around my neck and tossed the condenser to Lindra. She caught it and stared at the faintly flowing metal in the center of the medallion.
“Beautiful,” Nara said as she stared at the medallion. I raised my palm, and a five-foot-tall fire erupted in the air.
“You’ve seen how much power I can wield; can you imagine what I could do if my condenser were ten times the size?”
Everyone stared at the flame in my hand, then the gem, a realization forming in their mind. I didn't have to have it in my possession to use it. With a nervous smile, Lindra returned the medallion to me.
‘And just like that, they believe the lie. It’s such a plausible answer after all, and the only ones who know can no longer contradict it lest she become the liar. Or will she willingly admit that our employer is trafficking Occularums to this group of ne'er-do-wells? The truth is what people say it is. Say it first, loudly, and make it plausible; then anything can become truth.’
“Anyone else care to share?” I asked, staring at Korin. But she didn't answer; none of them did, leaving me the only honest one amongst them.