Spellheart4, p.1
Spellheart4, page 1
Contents
The Story So Far…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
THE STORY SO FAR…
THEO WAS BORN in a world filled with sentient AI's, legions of robots, and a futuristic society founded on science. Theo was a firm adherent to the principles of scientific discovery, but one day he found something that science couldn't explain.
There was a building filled with elves! Living, breathing elves with pointed ears and magic at their fingertips. At first Theo didn't believe it, but after a bit of chaos back home he had to escape with some of those very elves on a trans-dimensional spaceship. He, along with his good friends Sam and Dean, soon found themselves in another world.
The ship they traveled in seemed to take a liking to Theo and held him back for over four hundred years. His friends went off to live their lives, learn about the magic that flowed through this unknown world, and carve out something for themselves. Theo's friend Dean founded the nation of Deania and his friend Sam founded the Fateweaver Society. When Theo's purgatory trapped inside the spaceship concluded, his friends were nowhere to be found.
Theo wasn't alone for long though. He quickly ran into the local inhabitants of the Hearthwood. Elves, just like the ones he'd seen back home. Among the locals he found both friends and foes, and Theo found his body growing stronger day by day as he lived in this world and breathed in its magic.
He discovered that males were rare amongst elf-kind, and the few they had were weak. As a rare exception, Theo won attention from the local elves and their organizations. Some attention was welcome, others were not.
Theo realized he didn't want to live in the wilderness forever, building huts and drinking river water. He found himself in the company of several elves who could help him found a clan of his own.
With an arrangement that would let Theo declare himself a Patriarch, Theo pulled together a faction in the Hearthwood Forest and created an alliance between all the tribes of the Hearthwood bound through him in a magical ceremony.
Sava, an herbalist with big dreams.
Nela, a survivor longing for the restoration of her clan.
Melise, a healer with a golden heart.
Assyrus, a talented cultivator of great potential.
Yorik, an orc far from home.
Illiel, a scholar abandoned by her cult.
Eltiana, an assassin longing for something worth fighting for.
First came the Shadowblade Beast, followed by a hostile and ruthless mercenary company, and then a mind-magic corrupted clan from outside the forest itself. Of all the tribes of the Hearthwood, only Theo's clan could weather the storm. In a crucible of blood and loss, the Hearthwood Clan was born. United under one purpose, they survived everything their enemies could throw at them, and knew in their hearts that Theo could lead them to brighter days ahead.
With the Hearthwood safe from invaders and new allies visiting from abroad, the time has come for Theo to set foot outside the Hearthwood and see the world beyond his forest.
CHAPTER ONE
I WAS SPENDING some quality time with my kids by helping them loot the corpses piled on my lawn. Massive broken trees were tossed everywhere like toothpicks the size of skyscrapers. This morning’s fight had cut the tops off mountains and carved craters the size of buildings. The massive holes were filled with as much blood and broken bones as they were with mud and water, though the necromancers had already made off with all the intact corpses. That was the only positive note I had for our little ferry ride through the newly formed lake we were sailing across in my daughters’ makeshift boat.
“Would it kill you to be a little more squeamish?” I asked my daughter. “Mind your clothes. Mac’s going to be furious if we track blood into The Wanderer.”
Sora, my second daughter by Sava, gave me a small chuckle as she reached into the brackish water and plucked out a fleshless unicorn leg bone, which she used like an oar to paddle us across the small sea. “For the prizes we’ve been gathering all morning, we can buy entire wardrobes.” She glanced back at me and gave me a cheeky grin. “Besides, I’m sure Malla would be more than happy to measure you for a new set of clothes.”
I held up a hand. “Easy there, Sora. I’ve got my hands full with your mother and the rest of the Hearthwood Clan’s matriarchs. I certainly don’t need my own daughter setting me up for yet another woman.”
Sora laughed again and winked away. “I’m sure I can trust mom and the other matriarchs to put you to work expanding our clan. I just want you to know I’m looking forward to a few younger siblings.”
“Aren’t you worried about wearing your parents out? There are thirteen of you now, including Segolas.” I complained.
Sora’s face turned downcast at the mention of her brother. Word of his crippled condition and the news that he wouldn’t be getting better any time soon had gotten around.
“I don’t think we’ve been much trouble to you and mother.” Sora said. “And we’re established enough in the clan that we can stand on our own. I, for one, would like to start building my own faction beyond my mother’s, and having a few little sisters to boss around would really help with that.”
“Ha.” I grinned. “You’re right, you girls have done a lot for this clan, despite only being a few days old. But if you want little sisters, you’re going to have to talk to your mother. She decides how many eggs she lays, not me.”
The fact that elves laid eggs still confused me, and Sava and the rest of the matriarchs continued to joke about human childbirth amongst themselves. The thought of miniature people popping out from between a woman’s legs sounded as whimsical to them as elves laying eggs that hatched wisps which then manifested fully grown adult elves sounded to me.
“Darn.” Sora said. “It looks like my sisters had the same idea as me.” The green-haired little elf started rowing her bone faster, driving our raft towards a small island in the middle of the water where a true mage from the Cult of the Unblinking Eye had died under a swarm of Undead Abominations. The bodies of the abominations themselves were what formed the island, though the elf’s corpse had long since disappeared into motes of light. For my kids’ sake, I was glad that death for elves was blessedly clean.
“You’re too slow, sister!” Aminal said as she waved to the two of us on the raft. She, along with Laminel turning over a pile of bones nearby, were daughters of Illiel and me. “Laminel’s already harvested what few spellhearts Sielus and Myrus left behind.” She jerked her thumb backwards at two tall blue-haired elves. Like their mother Assyrus, my daughters of the Waterbeetle bloodline were as strapping as elves could be with their naturally willowy forms. The two Waterbeetle sisters had no trouble turning over dead monsters ten times their weight to reach for their real prize: spellhearts.
And spellhearts were a prize, especially for a clan as full to bursting with skilled alchemists as ours was. My daughters were all heartwielders, still at the first realm of cultivation. But there wasn’t a girl among them who didn’t have designs on reaching mage acolyte. These spellhearts were valuable as reagents for a wide variety of potions, pills, and other cultivation-enhancing substances. If the spellheart was of the right aspect, a heartwielder could even use them to enhance the zeal of their own bonded spellhearts directly. So naturally, my kids were grabbing everything they could get their hands on.
“We aren’t grabbing everything.” Sielus protested. “The necromancer and her undead collected all the good stuff already. And even she only got what Princess Tivana didn’t think was worth the space it would take up in her bag of holding.”
“There’s no shame in cleaning up the scraps.” I said as I worked a little earth magic to speed our raft to the small island. There was enough gravel and mud mixed with the blood and bones that I could carry us with magic faster than Sora could paddle. “And if our new allies will let us enrich ourselves off a battle fought mostly by them, I’m certainly not going to protest.”
“Father’s right.” Sora agreed. “What’s trash to sorcerers and wizards is still invaluable to us.”
Sielus snorted. “You don’t need to tell me that. I’ve gotten more spellhearts today than I did during my entire career as a dungeon diver.” She bent over and grabbed the skeletal remains of a Stone Hoof Unicorn. “So for the good of the clan, help me pull this thing out of the way. I think the true mage died somewhere under here.”
My girls were all supernaturally strong when they wanted to be. All they had to do was tap their spellhearts and they could lift boulders, sprint for hours, and tear doors off their hinges with a sudden burst of energy. However, they were only heartwielders.
So when the Stone Hoof Unicorn skeleton turned out to be bound up in a dense network of connected bones that made up a deceased Undead Abomination’s torso, they started struggling. Had this monster been covered in flesh, it likely would have weighed as much as a building. As it was, the cracked and brittle bones linked by desiccated ligaments still weighed as much as a truck.
The girls made a good plan to slowly chop the mass of bones down into a dozen different fragments and pull them out one at a time. That would have worked eventually, but I figured I could lend them a hand.
So I grabbed the Stonehoof Unicorn leg Sielus was holding and jerked it upwards. Those dried and dusty ligaments proved quite strong as I hauled on the piece of bone and pulled the entire mass out of the hole. With a rough shove, I rolled the gigantic torso over and pushed it to the edge of the island.
“Thank’s Dad.” Sora said.
Sielus whistled. “What do I have to do to get that strong?”
“Become a mage acolyte.” I replied. “And you might also have to pick up the Blackgorge Fiendbody while you're at it.”
Sielus grimaced. “I think that would slow down my cultivation. I’ll stick to my spellheart until I get stuck. Then I’ll think about integrating orc techniques.”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry. I still plan to be here for you girls whenever you need something heavy moved.”
“Everyone, look!” Aminel shouted as she jumped up and down, clutching a bronze mirror. “I think I found something the true mage left behind!”
I jumped off the pile of bones that made up the Undead Abomination I’d just rolled over and slid to Aminel’s side. She held a sheet of polished copper that should have reflected her features. The mirror was empty though and showed only the stars overhead. I studied the mirror and through it saw the pile of bones at our feet, but no matter which way I turned my head I couldn’t see myself or any of the elves around me.
“How strange.” Sora said. “But it does look magical. Do you recognize it, father?”
“I’m afraid I’m as clueless as you girls. I recognize that script running up the side as some sort of enchantment though.”
[Which qualifies it as a genuine magic treasure.] Mac provided, speaking directly into my mind.
“Mac says it’s a real treasure.” I repeated for the sake of the surrounding elves. Mac had speakers he could talk from aboard The Wanderer but when we were out and about like this only I could hear him. It earned me some strange looks occasionally, but all my children had interacted with Mac enough to know he was real, and not just a voice in my head.
“Does he know how to activate it?” Sora asked hopefully. "Or what it is?"
Spell Mirror
Status: Damaged
Item properties unknown.
[That's the best I can do for now. Figuring out more would take some experimentation. I have a few ideas though, and if you hand the treasure off to Argona, I could have her run through a few simple experiments.]
I handed the mirror back to Aminel. “Let’s go find your sister, Argona. She and Mac can figure out how to get it working. I assume she’s in the Drafter’s Study?”
[Any other day you would be correct with that assumption. But today Argona has left her room and gone outside! It’s extremely strange and unusual behavior from her.]
It took me only a moment to guess what Argona was after. During the battle that made all the chaos and turned earth around us, Tim used five enchanted discs of incredible power. Each of those disks made or summoned a massive golem at the sorcerer ranks, a stage higher than even wizards and far beyond the golems I’d been crafting.
Of all my children, Argona inherited the most of my inquisitive nature and I was beginning to worry that her thirst for knowledge surpassed even my own. I would have already grabbed the broken remains of those golem summoning disks for myself if I didn’t already know Princess Tivana had claimed them for herself. I could only hope Argona didn’t know who had the disks yet and was off digging in the dirt in hopes of finding them.
I had yet to take Princess Tivana’s measure, but cultivators as powerful as she was were often strange and eccentric, with unknowable and mysterious plans. With lifespans stretching over a thousand years, they rarely bonded with or cared about lesser cultivators, who were as numerous as the grass below their feet and whose lives passed as quickly as the wilting of a summer flower in comparison their own.
***
I had to abandon my girls to break out my flying sword and try to get a better view. Down below, I could see Yorik and her forces were looming over a group of bedraggled elves. These were the survivors from the defeated army who weren’t important enough to own a treasure like mine to let them get away.
All the enemies at true mage or higher had long since taken off, but the heartwielders and mage acolytes weren’t fast enough to escape my people. This forest was our home, and the invaders stood no chance at escaping pursuit through it.
I landed my flying sword by Yorik’s side. A few dozen elves turned and saluted me, but most stayed focused on the prisoners. Many had quickly surrendered and bore no more than a pair of ropes around their wrists to show for their part in the invasion of the Hearthwood. Others had fought before being subdued, and we’d collected quite a few new wisps.
“How are things going over here?” I asked Yorik.
The strong, green-skinned orc woman stood out among the sea of elves. Originally, her species had earned her a great deal of distrust amongst the elves, but over time she’d gained both my trust and theirs. Now, she was unquestionably the commander of the Hearthwood Clan’s fighting force.
“Slow.” Yorik replied. “Didn’t drill them for clean up.”
“Our troops seem to be taking to it well enough.” I said as I surveyed the orderly lines and keen eyes on the Hearthwood soldiers. “Besides, I prefer cleaning up after our allies over fighting that battle on our own. We can handle heartwielders and mage acolytes all day, but true mages and wizards aren’t something we can contend against in number. As for sorcerers?” I whistled. “Apparently, it takes more than a mountain or two to hide from one of them.” New hills piled high around us, one of them the entire upper half of the dungeon my people had been hiding in until Tim and his wizards yanked the entire network of tunnels out of the ground.
“Theo!” An elf with dirty blonde hair pushed up her glasses and tucked her clipboard under her arm. Then she glanced around at the elves around us and corrected herself. “Patriarch of the Hearthwood Clan!” She gave me a formal curtsy, though the fact that she wore armored leather pants instead of a skirt made the gesture look like a half-crouch.
I smiled and wrapped an arm around Illiel’s waist. “You don’t have to be so formal, Illiel. Everyone knows you’re a matriarch of the Hearthwood Clan, even before your position as the head of the clan’s administrative duties.”
Illiel glanced around at the Hearthwood warriors as she leaned against me. “Fine… though since when does matriarch refer to someone who shares your bed?”
“I’m the patriarch, aren’t I? It’s only fitting.” I said with a laugh. “In most clans the matriarchs are a circle of ancient old elves who rule over their clan of descendants with an iron fist. I like my definition better, and I’d like to shift the rest of the clan to seeing things my way.” I pulled Illiel closer to my side, and she wrapped an arm around me. “And to do that, the clan needs to see how close we are.”
“O-okay, Theo. I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Illiel replied as she nuzzled my arm.
Yorik snorted, and I realized she was within arms reach too. “You too, Yorik.” I said, pulling the orc in with my other arm. “Now how about the two of you fill me in on everything that’s happened since this morning. Also, I’d like to know if either of you has seen Argona or Princess Tivana.”
Illiel and Yorik explained that most of the prisoners were either Corpse Collectors or low-ranking members of the Sakaku Clan. Illiel was already busy sorting them by their skills and level of cooperativeness.
