“Reminds me of someone I met,” said Scorio. “Bronwen? Never mind.”
Taron dismissed Scorio’s comment and gestured to the last Dread Blaze. “Whereas the delightful Merideva is a master of close combat fighting. She wields her burning staff like a master born, and each foe she defeats causes another burning staff to fight alongside her. Combined with her ability to burst forth in a mighty dash that can carry her across the battlefield in a blink of an eye, and she often becomes an army by herself by the end of any lengthy fight.”
Merideva smiled ruefully and inclined her head, her long brown hair falling silkily forth. Fair-skinned, green-eyed, tall and statuesque, hers was a refined and reserved presence.
Taron clapped his hands. “We have a week to learn to work together. Newcomers: you need to think of our team in terms of transport, close-quarter combat, and battle control. These are artificial distinctions, but at their crudest they help shape our approach. The simplest category is up close and intimate. Ursan, Fyrona, Himiko, Scorio, and Merideva, you five are the center of our company. You move forward together, support each other, and destroy all that comes against you. Move to the side there.”
Scorio stepped with the other four to Taron’s left.
“Wesanin, Rharvyn, Penaela, Galvon, and myself help shape the flow of battle and control the field by either controlling conditions or wreaking terrible destruction. Nyrix is our sole means of transportation: he’s our chess master, shuttling our pieces around the board and ensuring our battle shapers are always optimally located. And if events ever turn sour, he’ll appear close to our hand-to-hand combatants and help extract them.”
Scorio tried not to feel overwhelmed.
As if reading his mind, Taron grinned. “Too much to take in? Too theoretical and abstruse? Worry not. There’s a reason we’ve been relaxing within a stone’s throw of the Temporal Obelisks.”
Scorio looked over to the circle of huge monoliths. The fog had dissipated from within, revealing a huge space contained by the rocks, and from which a group of Great Souls was emerging. They were engaged in earnest conversation, with one prodigiously overweight woman lecturing the group with animated gestures.
“I’ll ask,” said Ursan gamely. “Temporal Obelisks?”
“They’re the reason for our camping here.” Taron began striding toward them. “Originally there were plans to trap the Blood Ox within them, but they proved fruitless. When infused with rare mana—Gold or greater—they trap time like spindles trap thread. The rarer the mana the more time they can trap, but when the mana runs out they unwind time, returning those within their circle to the state they were before the effect began.”
Scorio stared at Taron. “They reverse time?”
“Allowing us to use them as a training space without need for holding back.” Taron’s eyes glimmered. “There’s one caveat: if your rank isn’t equal to the mana used to activate the stones, you don’t retain your memories of what transpired within. Thus it’s usually Dread Blazes or higher who tend to use them; Gold mana will buy us three or so minutes of time in which to train. Flame Vaults can get a minute with Silver, but Bronze has no effect.”
Galvon sneered. “The plan was to trap the Blood Ox for five minutes?”
Taron’s expression remained sanguine. “The intention was to use Noumenon. It’s said that will activate the stones for an entire week. Regardless, the plan was abandoned, but these obelisks, my friends, are what have kept our restless Great Souls from revolting over the course of the last year. Nothing keeps our kind happier than gleefully murdering each other.”
“They’re also the reason we’ve accumulated no Gold mana,” said Fyrona.
“True.” Taron seemed unconcerned. “The price for keeping our little army together. Fortunately for our company, I acquired Gold mana while at the Fury Spires.” He drew out a finger-length tube. “This will buy us three or so minutes in which to unleash our powers on each other with wanton abandon.”
“Teams?” asked Wesanin, his voice soft and melodious.
“I’m glad you asked. Merideva, Scorio, Galvon, Rharvyn, and Wesanin versus Ursan, Himiko, Fyrona, Penaela, and Nyrix. I’ll observe and take notes.”
Scorio glanced about the little group. Merideva with her flaming staff, Galvon with his wall of disorienting force, Rharvyn with his long-range attacks, and Wesanin with his living tornado form against the Shadow Petal, ogre-like Ursan, Fyrona with her burning eye flames, Penaela with her… whatever her black sun did, and Nyrix with his crossbow and portals.
They were almost at the standing stones. “Merideva, Fyrona, take your teams aside and talk tactics. I’ve booked us the slot after the current team.”
For another group had entered the circle ahead of them only to be hidden by a rising wall of fog.
“What happens if you try to enter the circle once it’s been activated?” asked Scorio.
“You lose the skin of whatever part of you touches the fog,” said Penaela. “That’s what freezes in time first, and prevents you from pushing deeper in. You can pull away if you’re fine with tearing off the frozen skin and leaving it behind.”
“Oh,” said Scorio. “Never mind.”
Himiko glanced sidelong at Penaela. “And if one were thrown out of the circle from within?”
It was Taron who responded. “If you leave the circle early, you keep whatever damage was dealt to you. If you throw a dead body out, that person stays dead forevermore. So don’t do that. Clear?”
Scorio nodded quickly.
“My team this way,” said Merideva, and strode off to one side. Scorio watched the obelisks as he followed, and reached out to them with his senses. It was overwhelming: he could sense streaks of Gold mana flowing around the stones, but there was something more wrapping around them, just as Taron had described, like thread around spindles: something that wasn’t mana, but which radiated an unearthly power that awed him.
Raw time?
Merideva turned to face the four of them when she judged they’d gone far enough. Her smile was perfunctory. “First things first. This fight will be brief. Dread Blaze combats never last long. Second, victory is attained by incapacitating or killing the entirety of the other team. A task that is made all the more difficult by Fyrona’s durability, and, no doubt, Himiko’s.”
“Apologies in advance,” said Rharvyn grimly. “My range makes me of little use in these fights. I can target those across the circle from me, but that’s all.”
Merideva’s smile became compassionate. “Don’t fret. Not your fault. Now. Let’s see if we can’t cook up a surprise for Fyrona.”
Chapter 33
The Temporal Obelisks finished their cycle, and the fog dispersed from amongst the monoliths. The crew within emerged, a dozen strong, expressions wondering and conflicted.
“Alright,” said Taron. “Our turn. Everybody in, teams take your positions across from each other.”
There were some hundred other Great Souls present in disparate groups; some had clearly partaken in the Temporal Obelisks and now stood in earnest conversation, debating what had taken place within; others yet awaited their turns, and watched with interest as the Dread Blazes filtered in between the rocks.
Scorio looked up the length of one as he passed it by. Weathered and ancient, it bore no signs of its mystical ability. Gray, surface pitted and worn by time, it rose nearly twenty yards into the fulminous Telurian Band sky, where it tapered to a rough point.