MIRRI

  Mirri felt a frown begin to creep across her snout as Calen handed the vial back. It was just a little too light.

  Or maybe that was her imagination. Mirri scanned the gaps in the Stubs again, alert for any movement through the torrent of rain.

  The downpour that was sucking heat from her scales, was, unfortunately, moving water. It also had the inconvenient impertinence to make noise as it struck the ground, which would mask footsteps until an intruder were incredibly closeby already, or unworried about being heard.

  The curtains of rain meant she couldn't simply wait for a giveaway twitch to draw her eye, or fixate in the direction of noise to scan for threats.

  How Calen had found her so easily, she had no idea. When the strange little foreigner had jogged back into hearing range, Mirri had been prepared to overhear frustration, perhaps confusion that turned to panic, or even witness him signal companions to follow, or fan out to search.

  Instead, he had simply padded directly over to her admittedly poor hiding spot, confessed everything she had witnessed and more, and immediately asked what the new plan was.

  The next few minutes would tell for sure whether she should have simply stabbed him the moment he turned the corner and been done with it, but her quiet faith had been answered well enough thus far.

  Momentarily assured that there were no circling knights waiting to spring an ambush in a moment of inattention, Mirri paused her watch to check on what Calen was actually accomplishing. She had just handed him far more platinum paint than she herself had ever used for a singular task. It wouldn't do to underestimate the danger simply because he was unarmed and acting guileless.

  She peered into the little tent the human had made out of his clothing, shielding the still-wet rune from the rain, and the frown besmirching her snout grew.

  He had definitely overdone it. The rock was resting comfortably on the admittedly fuzzy-looking underlayer of Calen's strange tunic-cloak, and absolutely glistening with platinum paint.

  Nothing was obviously wrong with the rune, it was just...

  'Expensive-looking' would be the polite term.

  "What? Did I do something wrong?" Calen asked, glancing back down at his abominably wasteful runework.

  He had noticed her change in expression. Because of course he had, the fool was still surging his head, even crouched over a borrowed rock in the middle of a battlefield, with his face half-shoved under the clothing he had stripped from his back.

  As if one errant sling-stone wouldn't mash his brain stem to slurry inside his skull if he were caught unawares during his task.

  "I meant a third of what was left, not... that!" Mirri spluttered, taking care not to touch any of the paint herself and wincing at the waste as she re-wired the cork into the messy mouth of the bottle. "And stop surging your head!"

  It was the third reminder since he had returned from 'scouting.' She expected it to be just as effective as the last two.

  "Sorry, in a hurry," Calen dismissed again, as if a blow to the head would care how busy he was. "You ready? This doesn't work if they decide to come find me before we do it."

  The glow still faded from his skull, for now. Just as it had after the first two times.

  He was either bait that had been intentionally deprived of knowledge, a fearsome hand at liar's dice playing her for an absolute fool, or actually an Arrival who had no idea of the danger he was putting himself in.

  Mirri muzzled her frustration and did her duty, regardless of her steadily expiring suspicions.

  "Just... stop doing it outside of fights, unless you're behind stone walls with people you trust." She chastised him. "And only when you're safe to take a moment, it makes you more vulnerable."

  "It's happening by accident, but I'll do my best," Calen was still kneeling over his discarded clothing, holding it away from their desperate gamble. "You're sure this will hold power if I throw it wet? What if it smudges?"

  "The rune is a filter, the power holds the intent even after it passes through," Mirri confirmed. "Avoid feeding it mana from your fire channels if you want to accomplish more than I would, unbiased mana will convert at a much better rate. And don't touch the paint!"

  Her last warning was late, but the Arrival simply wiped his fingers on the wet ground beside him after making the correction. Mirri grit her teeth at the carelessness, but there were no washing salts handy to do the job properly.

  It would have to do for now.

  "Great. Awesome awesome awesome." Calen muttered. "And the filter would take power one to one if the mana had a light bias?"

  Mirri gave herself a solid, slow blink to calm down while she exhaled. Their lives depended on cooperation right now, she could afford to be patient with someone who had a child's understanding of mana. There was a reason Arrivals were usually brought to temples for basic education, instead of given field instruction.

  Usually. Exceptional circumstances demanded exceptional patience.

  "Yes, if we had a light mage with us, they could easily power the rune for hours." Mirri said slowly. "You're going to struggle to use all that capacity."

  "I'll take that bet," Calen grinned down at the rock for some reason. "Okay, you might want to look away."

  As if Mirri would risk letting him signal someone with the stone while she wasn't looking.

  Violet flashed from the cliffside above, tearing across the pass, and Mirri left him to his assumption rather than argue. Her eyes narrowed on their own when Calen stuck his entire head into the bottom opening of the clothing, using it to hold up the tent with both hands on the stone.

  He would certainly be able to spike the amount of power in the object faster that way, but the limiting factor should be his mana pool, not flow rate.

  Not that her manasight was developed enough to read his channels in such detail. It would be an atrocious invasion of privacy to even consider the idea.

  Which she was not doing, suspicions about the human's true origins or not.

  A gentle glow suffused the ground, spilling out from under the cloak and cresting over the human's bone-bleached and too-thin undertunic. Gods, the perfectly aligned threads were so sparse that she could make out the skin on his back through the weave, especially where it was wet.

  Earth's tailors had been a strange bunch, or maybe Calen's house had fallen on hard times and skimped on underclothes to avoid outward signs of the loss. Unless it had been fashionable to wear underclothing almost as thin as a veil.

  Musings on alien fashion aside, there was still far less light emanating from the 'tent' than Mirri had expected, until—

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "Got it." Calen hissed with satisfaction. "Now I can feed it."

  Mirri's manasight bloomed a warning even through the thick layer of cloth shielding her from the actual work being done. Focusing brought exactly what she expected to see into view, a single light rune of incredible power density backed by a rounded haze of charged stone, but the mana density was already double, perhaps triple what it had been even moments ago.

  Calen was now casting a shadow against the pillar behind him, even under the afternoon stormclouds.

  "Careful you don't give yourself mana exhaustion." Mirri hissed. "You won't be able to run."

  The flow of power slowed, but didn't stop.

  "How do I tell?" He mumbled through the cloth.

  "Anerean's Measure is a burning sensation. Stop right away if you feel it." Mirri said, clipping her words before she was tempted to give him the whole lecture, and glancing around instead.

  The beacon would be incredibly easy to find for anyone searching on the ground, and even the combatants above would eventually notice something strange happening, with this much light spilling. She stepped her half-soaked winter skirts in front of a particularly egregious beam, hoping to delay their discovery.

  "Easy then." Calen replied. "I think I'm at three quarters so far."

  Mana surged angrily, frothing within its confines and drawing her attention back to Calen as he resumed. A beginner of his density shouldn't be able to create even a mild siphon effect in the aether, but Mirri felt the tug on her senses nonetheless.

  She didn't bother to hide the confusion on her face. No one was looking.

  Had his mana pool been full, and he was only now just starting to spend more than he regenerated? Or was he more experienced with magic than he let on?

  The stone was starting send pinpricks of light even through the thicker cloth of Calen's strangely-constructed cloak. Its density showed no signs of plateauing.

  "Calen!" Mirri hissed. "How are you doing that?"

  The arrival chuckled without withdrawing to look at her. Mirri forced herself to take her hand off her knife, and belatedly scanned for another ambush.

  They were still alone, for now. Not much longer, if he didn't stop soon.

  "Thanks for the tip upstairs. Em probably would have done it better, she actually like, understood what photons were supposed to be. As much as people are supposed to." Calen babbled nonsense when he finally replied. "But I know my eee-yemm spectrum theory well enough. Mostly around the colors, but we're aiming for visible light anyway."

  The bundle of power had spiked again when Calen said 'foh-tohn', and this time it rippled the aether just a scaleswidth.

  Not enough to carry all the way up the cliffside, Mirri had only even caught the disturbance because she was paying attention and close by, but the platinum looked to be at capacity. As much as the slough could do, it was no rival to a forged channel in a real tool.

  Mirri had no time for further questions, and wasn't certain she wanted credit for helping with this idea yet. Maybe after she got him to explain what tip she had given him 'upstairs'.

  If they survived this foolishness.

  "Calen stop!" Mirri interjected. "That's enough, we'll be seen soon!"

  The Arrival turned his head away and blinked blearily as he emerged, both hands cradling the blinding beacon close to his chest and quickly depositing the rock atop his cloak.

  Even with a palm over her view, Mirri could barely stand to look at it. They were definitely being watched now.

  All she could do was pray the archer took the bait. Hope. Praying would have been greedy, given her recent unfounded impulses to violence.

  "Yeow that stings. Looked a little too long." Calen said, gripping the clothing by the sleeves and mumbling to himself. "Gravity's a little nicer here, we'll go for a straight shot. Just in case we miss."

  He was still blinking rapidly as the unholy sun swung lightly in the sailor's hammock he had made of his clothing.

  No, not a hammock, Mirri realized as the human adjusted his grip and gave it a test swing that made a full loop, picking up speed from there.

  A sling.

  An incredibly short, poorly balanced sling that sent shadows dancing through the air as it rotated once, twice, and Calen stepped out to sight his target, even taking the time to glance back and ensure he wasn't going to spoil his aim by striking the pillar behind him.

  Mirri shielded her eyes before her vision could be spoiled by sunspots, already looking for their next target, a gully that cut down across the pass towards the south. If the archer fired, they would have to sprint, and pray they were faster than the Immortal's draw. Even absent a spike in the aether, she could practically feel the eyes on them already.

  Before she could truly panic, the light vanished, hurtling away across the curved border of the Stubs far more suddenly than it had been created.

  For a moment, they were both cast in shadow by the retreating stone.

  Far more interesting shadows were thrown across the southern cliffside as her lightstone struck one of the Stubs high, bouncing into the air before falling into a gap between the pillars. The deep shadows thrown to the west framed several startled humanoid figures, and tossed more mad silhouettes up against the mountainside above the southern cliff. They showed knights panicking, the shadows growing larger to stretch across the valley as they rushed the light source, or skittering low and twisted as they flinched away from it.

  The sky flashed, briefly illuminated from the ground as the stone was destroyed in one final burst of power.

  For a moment, Mirri thought their gambit had failed. That the Horde had simply eaten their bait, and ignored the trap.

  Of course they wouldn't strike, they were here for the Venatrix, even if an entirely new force was revealed on the battlefield. The knights weren't in position to threaten the warband, so they could be safely ignored.

  She had overestimated the Maw's greed, and now they were both dead.

  A streak of violet violently thrummed its disagreement through the aether, correcting her as it briefly carved the horizon from the sky across Mirri's vision.

  "Go!" She heard herself shout, shoving Calen gently while he pulled his clothing back over his head. "I can contest a weak shot if he hurries too much."

  Her shoulder ached with cold more than anywhere except the thinnest parts of her membranes, notifying her that she still had iron pellets embedded under her scales. The disruptive effect was sipping at her mana regeneration, but the sprint ahead was more important. She could dig them out later.

  Mirri wasn't actually certain she could blunt an empowered projectile without spending her entire remaining mana pool. So she left herself cold, instead of warming the plates in her armor, as they took off across the longest stretch of open grass she had ever seen.

  Just in case she needed the power.

  One of the Stubs was rumbling, and a glance told Mirri that it had been punched clean through by the empowered arrow. Someone was cackling on the wind, but Mirri's mouth was too busy sucking down air to feed her lungs, it couldn't be her. Thousands of talents of rock were starting to slide, tipping towards the still-dancing shadows being thrown around the stone forest.

  It felt uncharitable to hope for too much, but—

  "Whoooooooo!" Calen's cheer interrupted Mirri's thoughts before she could finish her blasphemous wish to the Maw, and the fool even slowed his pace to stick one of his still-glowing fingers in the air. "Thanks for nothing, assholes!"

  "Get down!" Mirri hissed, dragging him prone against the north slope of the gully. "And wash those!"

  He fell willingly into the twisted weeds, at least, and stopped his mad cackling when the aether thrummed.

  The archer chose to shower them with dirt, the projectile's detonation blowing a crater in the south side of the ditch. They had not been forgiven their trick, apparently. Not that Mirri would have counted on mercy of any type from the Horde.

  Gods, there was really a Horde warband in the western pass. A threat for storybooks, come from half a world away. The north had fallen, and let every monster in the world into the valley, sniffing around for a chunks to tear away.

  Mirri nervously checked behind her, but the bottom of the Stubs was obstructed from her viewpoint, prone in the water-filled ditch. There would be no free shot at her back for Saah's men today, and they wouldn't dare infringe after Mahira took the Wardenship in the Highlands. If she took the Wardenship.

  Viran wasn't ready to take the mantle. The Venatrix might not even stay, unless Mirri proved she was worth teaching. The whole brew boiled to whether Mirri could shepherd this fool of a skyborn across the pass without getting both of them killed.

  Her mother would likely be here to take care of things, after that.

  "Okay, paint's mostly off." Calen declared, turning away from the limp shrubbery he had used to clean his hands. "What's next?"

  Mirri almost asked if he had gone blind, until she realized the light still following the human's stubby fingers was not casting shadows.

  "What did you do?" Mirri demanded, grasping for his wrists.

  Calen was only able to resist for a moment, and Mirri was careful not to accidentally jab with her claws as she manipulated his fingers into splaying. Her potion would have left his system by now, wounds would stick.

  Each of her hearts skipped a beat as she refocused, truly examining what was in front of her.

  The glow wasn't leftover paint, still charged from the rune.

  It was his channels.

  Peering more closely, she saw the original careful orange threads of fire mana around the edges, following some of his smaller veins. The rest of his pinkish, too-smooth skin was utterly suffused with a spiderweb of soft yellow strands. It even looked like he had stretched the filters down through the wrist into his forearms, tapering off around the base of his palm and running mostly through the major veins like a warcaster.

  Calen twisted his elbow gently, to align their forearms, and Mirri finally placed why the roots of his channels down the wrist seemed so familiar.

  He had copied her layout, but with light instead of fire.

  The amount of raw power Calen had managed to cram into the stone made near-perfect sense now. He had simply given up the ability to do much else, ever again.

  Panic gripped her. An Arrival had crippled himself, under her direct tutelage. It was an utter and direct failure of duty, the moment she was out from under the watchful eye of the Venatrix.

  And she had not only failed to notice while she was focused on their escape, but carelessly helped him do it, in her own self-interest.

  Longbows have been used for hunting since the paleolithic era, with stone arrowheads radio-carbon dated to as long as ~30,000 years ago. The naturally mummified corpse of [?tzi], a paleolithic human found in the Alps, was found alongside a bow made of yew wood. A scottish peat bog produced a similar artifact, again made of yew.

  'Mad Jack' Churchill, famous for storming the beaches of Normandy with a broadsword, longbow, and bagpipes, is often credited as the last English soldier to kill an enemy in open warfare with a longbow. However, his own testimony claims that his bows had been crushed by a truck before the point in the campaign where he supposedly achieved this.