Chapter 10

Chapter Ten.

The emaciated, incorporeal forms of the screaming hellspawn unthinkingly launched themselves toward Sylva’s class. The wraiths sparked and smoked as they struck the shimmering barrier framed by the wardwire between the thirty-foot-tall pillars. They thrashed at their translucent cloaks as they caught fire, their long, bony fingers finding no path to relief. The class stood in three rows about ten feet from the glowing wardline, gathered for their practical labs at a waystation in the muddy moors of Limbo. Behind them stood an assortment of small stone structures cobbled together from the ruins of the abbeys that broke up the soupy land outside Grayhaven. Soldiers entered and exited through iron double doors set into twenty-foot-wide pillars placed on three sides of the camp.

Aegis soldiers stood guard just inside the wardline between the pillars, smirking at the slack-faced terror painted across the faces of her classmates. The One-zero-three was prestigious for its reputation for the advancement of wartime technologies, not for the courageous demeanors of its bookish members.

Gentry slid forward from the line, placing himself between Sylva and the wailing hellspawn. Sylva didn’t comment. There was no reason to encourage him.

“Why don’t they just build stone walls?” Rhyna whispered so that only Sylva could hear her. “Then we wouldn’t have to listen to their screams and maybe they wouldn’t be so tempted to attack.”

“Stone is a terrible conductor for wards,” Sylva said, forcing the annoyance out of her voice. “The wraiths are incorporeal and would pass right through if they weren’t blocked by essence. Plus, the Aegis is making a fortune this way.”

Rhyna scrunched her eyebrows. Sylva nodded at the ground outside of the barrier. A collection of shards littered the ground in front of the students. Another dropped as the burning form of a wraith crumbled into ash.

Rhyna’s eyes went wide as she calculated the value strewn through the clumps of grass. “Are… we bait?”

“Hardly.” Professor Dorneman’s voice clipped, causing Rhyna to jump. “The number of wraiths that burn themselves on the barrier varies directly with the number of souls inside of the waystation. For every thirty wraiths that attack, we will see one drifter. We get two wraiths per human per twenty-seven minutes. The mechanics of the Spire are clearly designed. It sends enough to challenge the worthy and cull the rest. The ingenuity of the One-zero-three has monetized this. The proximity of our class to the barrier just concentrates their flow in this spot.”

“The Aegis controls the number of hellspawn that attack?” Rhyna asked. Sylva winced and leaned away from the girl, as if to prevent anyone from confusing Rhyna’s ignorance with hers.

“I suppose I can’t fault you for questioning some of what the priests of the Six claim about the gods, but I can confirm that no mortal could power or design wards to accomplish the mechanics of the Spire. For instance, consider the gates you walk through to get into Grayhaven. We have surmised that this is a liminal space between the hells and Telnira. It draws infernal energy along with essence from Telnira and forges it into all manner of hellspawn. Each level of the Spire produces different forms, all representative of what our comrades face on the fronts, though significantly weaker on the lower floors. Unfortunately, we have no way of confirming the way the Spire works. When we copy the runes from the gates allowing entry and exit, they either burn out or prove frustratingly inert when powered with essence. The research on the subject continues and has shown some progress.”

Sylva nodded along. She tried not to relish the feeling of being ahead. Possessing knowledge that her classmates lacked didn’t make her better than them per se, but it relieved any nagging regret she might have felt about the time she spent with Dorneman.

“Almost all of the steam engines and runic infrastructure of our world were inspired by the study of runes right here in the Spire. These technologies are licensed to the city-state governments in return for the land our garrisons sit on, the food we eat, and the facilitation of our recruitment efforts. In short, without our work, the Aegis would not be able to fund its war or fight effectively against Malaketh and his armies.”

A concerning smile spread over his face as he paused. “Which brings us to today’s activities. Our work requires shards. I suppose I could just have you collect them as they fall to the ground, but I have never believed that busy work builds character. Why waste time that could be used honing your skills under pressure. While many of you hope to join the ranks of our researchers, almost all of you will find your purpose on the front lines. You will set and maintain wards to provide succor against infernal influence, prevent hellspawn from invading camps, and upgrade or maintain rune-powered weaponry. If you are interested in experimental runework but are not offered a teaching position in the One-Zero-Three, the Cog Marines always welcome trained runesmiths from our division. They are forever pursuing new ways to graft weapons onto the bodies of their members.”

The last line earned a wince from the whole class. Sylva couldn’t imagine a worse fate than to go from a respected runesmith to a butcher.

Dorneman continued. “You know the runes required for these types of barriers. Study the pillars and wardwire configuration for the next hour if you need a refresher. You will pair up in groups of three. I have arranged for a One-Bar soldier to accompany each group. The goal of this exercise is to set up a forward position no more than two hundred yards from this waystation. Supplies have been placed in the field. Your group will scout the supply locations, choose a defensible position, and survive until you collect at least twenty shards. Remember, the hellspawn are drawn in numbers proportional to how many people are gathered. Setting yourself up too close to the waystation would see you surrounded by dozens of wraiths and even a drifter if you’re unlucky.”

Rhyna let out an involuntary squeak at the thought. The nine-foot-tall bone creatures would make short work of a small group of soldiers.

“You move out in one hour. Choose your group wisely and I hope you have been practicing your resonance drills between your studies.”

Sylva’s stomach dropped and the collar of her uniform felt suddenly tight. She had not, in fact, spent enough time working on her resonance drills. What would she do with a blast of resonance from her palm? Knock a bookshelf over? Scatter her papers? Anything other than a teaching position would be unacceptable.

Plus, as easy as the coursework seemed, channeling essence into resonance was like trying to catch water with a net. She had spent time meditating—trying to find a memory that anchored her soul against the isolating aura of Limbo. The problem was, she reveled in isolation. She loved her family, but only in doses and so long as they didn’t press.

The runesmith in the artificer shop barely spoke to her or she to him. He was happy to let her work twice the number of hours he paid her for. She was happy to be left alone to focus on carving her templates.

She wasn’t any better now. She only spoke to her fellow trainees or teachers when it was about their art. The dalliance with Dorneman was hardly a break from isolation—at least it was that way for her.

So how was she supposed to fight against a force that made her feel the same way having people around her was supposed to combat? When she thought about the people in her life, she couldn’t even move air with resonance. The only success she had was when she remembered holding court with the… Foundry of Fluff.

As a child, her stuffed animals were her friends. Each was named after the authors of the small collection of books she held sacred. After they all discussed the important matters of the day, she would arrange them in their places among the books. It was the best way she knew to show her appreciation for knowing how to listen to her and for making her feel understood.

If she thought hard about how she felt when her books and her friends were all perfectly arranged, exactly as she wanted them to be, her emotions found a facsimile of what she thought her trainers were trying to elicit within her. It allowed her to create a push. Weaker than the others, but enough to earn a sigh and a “keep practicing.”

Well, it looked like she was going to get some practice now. She sighed and set her mind to finding a group, only to see Gentry and Rhyna staring at her expectantly.

“You’re shit at resonance.” Gentry said. “You’ll need me to keep you safe.”

At first, she wanted to resist his offer. She didn’t like feeling like she needed him, but in the end all Sylva could do was nod. He was right.

“Ready to earn our keep roomie?” Rhyna said brightly.

“Let’s get this over with,” Sylva said with a small smile. She couldn’t understand why these two attached themselves to her, but it was beginning to feel familiar enough to accept.

The three of them made their way across the waystation to one of the gates on the other side. Sylva walked in front and the other two followed, assuming she had a plan. The supplies were distributed around the encampment so choosing the closest gate where many of their classmates were gathering seemed foolish.

A hard-faced infantryman fell in with them as they approached the stone pillar, happy to engage silently. Sylva hoped he knew how to use that long pike he carried. Gentry and Rhyna picked up short swords and shields from the weapons racks set near the gate and Sylva chose a simple wooden crossbow. If the hellspawn got close enough for her to need a short sword, they were already rusted.

Sylva stared at the gate and took a deep breath and held it. It was time to learn the dangerous part of being a soldier.