September 12
T-Minus 1 day to eclipse.
560Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWDXUc9xH0d
So it's just one day until the big solar eclipse happening. And Solar, that’s a fancy wizard word that means that it's got the sun in it, and that means I've actually got to be awakewards in the daytime. Even though the actual eclipse isn't gonna be anywhere near where I am, it's so far on the other side of the world it'll actually be tomorrow for them. But I've got all kinda eldritch sky magics so I can see the whole thing right from my own pointy wizard home. But I can't do anything at all about the time, so I gotta be up and alert at the time I'm normally passed out on the roof with half a skin of wine in me. That's the biggest reason I'm doing this thing, to keep me awake enough today so that I can be asleep enough tonight so that I can be awake enough tomorrow. I really like sleep but sometimes it gets right on my tits.
I've been trying to keep myself busy. I read until the words started to turn into wiggly black noodles; I paired every pair of socks I own and then unpaired them and paired them again with different socks; I played more games of backgammon than I could count and lost about 50 shillings to Fox, not that he needs the money. I even tried flight-testing my new staff in the hopes that the raw speed would inject some energy into my face but all I got out of that was some head injuries, and that is not helping me not be unconscious.
Finally, as used to be a near-ritual for me before taking on a nocturnal lifestyle, I settled down at my dining table and reached out across the gulps of space and time, thanks to the magic of… well, it's all actual magic, but specifically through the aethernet.
The curtains were drawn, the fire was doused, the candles were snuffed. The only light came from the crystal ball upon the table, shining from within with a soft, silvery glow. I saw myself in it, distorted, inverted, my shadowed face staring back at me. I pressed the palm of my hand against its smooth, round surface and focused the Shroud's energies into it.
"Michael Eldritch."
The light inside the crystal swirled and flashed, becoming a tiny galaxy contained in a tiny orb of stone. The lights merged together and resolved into a miniature form suspended inside the crystal. A man appeared, young, thin and handsome, with ghost-white hair, pointed ears and blood red eyes behind thick opticals. Michael Eldritch. Next to Witney, his younger sister, he always had been my closest friend and lieutenant throughout the war and since then had often acted as my representative with the Council as it became harder for me to leave my island.
It was good to talk to him again. As my work became more demanding it was harder and harder to find time for any pleasantries, and most conversations between us inevitably came back to Witney. These days I didn't often see him unless one of us had a particularly hoary research question or needed peer review on a new spell or if I didn't have enough money and needed somebody to go yell at the Council on my behalf. This looked to be a far more satisfying conversation.
"Johnathan!" he said, his voice small and tinny. His image rippled and distorted with each word like the surface of a pond in a rain shower. "This is a pleasant surprise. The budget isn't supposed to come in until the equinox."
"I haven't even started on the parchwork, Michael," I said, grinning within my Shroud. "Hold on a second, you're not focusing properly."
I tapped the glass a few times, sending distorted nightmare images rippling through my friend's face. His image flickered and vanished, then reappeared, outside the orb, full-size, as though we were sitting at the same table.
"Can you see me now?" he said.
"Bright and clear," I said. "…or near enough for my purposes."
"You really should update to an eye-ball," said Michael.
"I wish I had the money for that," I said. "Not like somebody I know, Mr. Court Wizard to Ambrosius Aurelianus. How goes the offensive against the Saxons?"
"Who told you about that?" Michael said, his stotic face showing a rare crack of surprise. "That was supposed to be a surprise announcement at the next quorum."
"It's all over the aethernet," I said. "Nothing but rumors, but you get enough of them together and eventually you get a pattern."
"You crafty bastard," Michael said, a small grin breaking out on his marble face. "I should have known I couldn't keep anything from you."
"You've done good, Michael," I said. I didn't expect anything else from Michael. He had always been one of the greatest mages of his generation. If it hadn't been for a twist of fate and an unlucky shot to the knee, he might have been the one to defeat Pteratos.
"Let's not talk about me," said Michael. "How about you? It's been a long time since I heard from you when the sun was out."
"I have that eclipse coming up tomorrow morning," I said. "I've got to completely reverse my schedule just for a few minutes of stellar alignment. It's not even a total eclipse…"
"Oh yes, the eclipse, I had forgotten," said Michael, running a hand through his hair. "Everything still on track for that?"
"The moon still orbits around the earth, yes."
"And the sun?"
"I'm predicting that to explode," I said. "I noticed you never really answered my question."
"…no I did not."
"That bad, huh?"
"The Saxons and their kin control four parts of the country out of five," Michael said, leaning in close over the ball and lowering his voice. "They have seven allied kingdoms to our one, and what allies we have are practicing their Anglish. Recruitment is stretched to the limit, there seem to be no men of visible Roman descent left to choose from and nobody else is willing to come forward. Honestly, I think that Ambrosius is the only one who even wants his side to win any more."
"Lost the will of the peasantry has he?"
"Oh the peasants are never happy," said Michael. "It's the soldiers that are worrying. There have been desertions. We're shedding like a wolfhound in July. And the Saxons aren't letting up. There's even been a rumor of an that they've formed an alliance with the Orks."
I felt as though a knife had been drawn along my spine. I only knew of the Orks through histories of their conquests and the stories of those who survived their attacks, but what I had read had put a tremendous, palpitating fear into my breast that surfaced with each utterance of the word. Even the smallest of their whelps was said to be twice the size of a grown man, and so densely muscled that not even steel could penetrate them. Their great warchiefs were said to be tremendous in size, walking mountains of misanthropy and rage, each one a legion unto themselves.
For the sake of this conversation, there were three things about the Orks and the Saxons that are historically significant. The first is that the Romans in Britain first encountered the Orks over a hundred years ago, at the dawn of what is now being called the fifth century after the birth of Christ. This encounter forced the Romans to flee from the British Isles and no doubt hastened the collapse of their empire.
The second is that in an attempt to fight the Orks, the Romans turned to the Saxons, essentially hiring out an entire nation as mercenaries to fight the advancing hordes in their place. The Saxons were the only known army able to deliver any decisive losses to the Orks and send them into full retreat where others were only able to inflict minor hit-and-fade attacks on them. They were, by most estimation, equally matched in force.
The third is that the last time somebody called an outside power into their territory to help fight a war it was the Romans calling in the Saxons. We all know how that turned out.
"Quite a predicament," I said, resting my hand against my forehead. "You couldn't use a hand, could you?"
"John…" said Michael, his tone well-practiced.
"You can't tell me you don't need help!" I said. "Not when the Orks start breathing down your neck. There are lots of things I can do besides magic."
"We've talked about this, John."
"I'd bring Fox with me!" I said. "He does all kinds of things! You haven't lived until you've tried his tuna steak."
"John, you don't want to get yourself in the middle of this," said Michael. "Hell, do you realize how good a position you're in? The war won't even come close to you. I'll be lucky if I can live long enough for my contract to expire."
"I don't need to be protected, Michael," I said. "You know better than anyone how I can handle myself."
"How you could handle yourself," said Michael. "You can't act like things haven't changed since the war."
"That doesn't mean I've changed."
"That's every bit what it means," said Michael. "John, you're not being reasonable."
"I'm perfectly reasonable!" I said. "I've been nothing but reasonable! My entire life is studying and reporting on the behaviors of objects billions and billions of miles away that have been following an ironclad pattern since the dawn of time! How can I possibly get more reasonable than that? That is peak reasonability, Michael!"
"And I suppose it's reasonable to throw yourself back into another war?"
"I have had enough of being reasonable!" I slammed my fist down on the table hard enough to make the crystal ball jump. Michael's image flickered and died, and the orb rolled off the table and across the floor, bumping against the door frame as it sped out of the room. I cursed and scrambled after it. Enchanted objects are prone to exhibiting… erratic reactions. There's just something about with being designed to store the natural energy of the universe permeating all things and release it on command that makes a wand of dragon's breath slightly more volatile than the average stick. But none of that is important right now.
"John?" Michael shouted, as his ball rolled down the hall to the stairs. "John what's going on, I've lost the picture!"
"Some… trouble on my end!" I called back, making a diving leap at the ball. I landed flat on my stomach as my fingers closed on empty air. The crystal ball rolled further, stopping just on the edge of the first step. And there it stopped. Hanging there, exactly half its weight on the floor, half its weight in the air. I dare say I didn't so much as breathe.
Slowly, my breath held deep in my chest, I crept forward a single inch at a time. I approached on all fours, eyes fixated on the translucent orb like a hawk spying its prey from ten thousand feet up, moving with all the grace of a master assassin, or perhaps a common housecat. For a few agonizing minutes I crept closer and closer, praying to any gods that dealt with household appliances to hold the ball in place, until finally it was within reach of my outstretched hands.
"Hold on a second, John!" I froze. "I think I lost you altogether. I'm going to reset the connection."
"Wait… what?" the light within the orb blinked out. I realized what was coming next. I dove forward but it was too late.
The orb flashed with a bright light and a portrait of Michael. The solid stone emitted a sound like the chiming of a bell. And it shook. It shook itself down the stairs mere instants before I could grab it. My frantic dive carried me down the stairs after it, cursing my redundant notification system with every step.
"Hello!" Bounce! "This is Johnathan Metamorphos," Bounce! "I'm afraid I can't come to the crystal right now-" Bounce!
There was a clattering of footsteps on hardwood. A tiny hand grasped the crystal at the height of its bound, its twin hooking on my collar and bringing my painful descent to a halt. For such a little guy, Fox knew how to throw his weight around.
"This is Mr. Fox speaking," he said to the stone. "To whom may I direct your call?"
"There's only one other person there, Fox," said Michael's voice.
"Just trying to keep up appearances," he said, handing the stone to me. With both hands free he helped me into a sitting position on the stairs, straightening the lines of my jacket and adjusting the tilt of my hat. The shroud had muffled most of the damage, leaving little more than stiff joints and numb extremities where there should have been broken bones and ruptured organs, but Fox was vital medicine for my dignity.
"Sorry, Michael," I said, as my valet brushed an invisible patina of dust from my shoulders. I had to stare into the tiny image floating within the ball, holding it a few inches away from my face. "Little thing got away from me."
"I… noticed," he said, a tinge of melancholy in his voice. Neither of us wanted to admit what we both knew was true. Any real wizard worth his pointy magic hat wouldn't have been so thoroughly trounced by a simple ball. I could have frozen it in the air with a snap of my fingers and no more effort than it would take to pick my nose. And not one of those ones that are way far up inside the nostril either, the ones where you have to get your fingernail under, I mean just right up at the lip of the nostril, you don't even need to… good lord, did I just write that? I have been awake for too long.
Finish this up quickly, then sleep.
"…alright John," said Michael. "You're wasted up there. We both know it. But it's not safe on this side of the wall right now. Once things settle down and I can get some time on my own, I'll talk to the council. I'll see if I can't make them install you as a teacher."
"Qui possit facere; qui non docent, I guess," I said. "Don't see why they didn't do that in the first bloody place."
"You need experience to teach," said Michael. "You can't bloody well teach a class in waging magical warfare against unknowable horrors from before time."
"Not a lot of call for that."
"I should hope not," said Michael, his image looking back over his shoulder. "John I have to go, Aurelianus needs me."
"Alright, catch you later," I said.
"We can only hope," said Michael, his image vanishing. I handed the ball back to Fox who smiled sadly, patting me on the shoulder.
"Come on, Mr. Wizard," he said, pushing me to my feet. "I think it's time you had some sleep."
"In a few minutes," I said, trudging up the stairs. "I need to journal about this."560Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmcJFmNvW8K
