Chapter 43: Preparing For War (1)

“What did you get?” Penelope asked when they found a quiet alcove. They kept pushing for another half hour until they were sure nothing had followed them, hoping for easy pickings. Chaos in the depths often drew attention, and the mutants were clearly far more daring. “Essence Of Currents,” El-Two answered. He expected her to ask and had the stalker carry the essence to Lukas and back. He held it out for the sorcerer, but she waved it away. The glass sphere contained a stream of water that flowed and twisted around itself, looping endlessly. “Would you like it?” “We can discuss the division of profits later. Hold onto it for now.” “Assuming we survive.” “The pair of you are surprisingly competent,” Bass said. “I wouldn’t have trusted you to protect Penny otherwise.” He nodded in the direction the shadow construct had disappeared. “Did that thing contribute to the fight at all? Can he even fight?” “He threw a few rocks and took out a few stragglers trying to get the high ground and dive from above,” El-Two answered. “I didn’t think he’d be much help in the melee.” “Is it a genuine construct or a manifestation of the Soul ability?” Penelope asked. “A bit of both, I think? They’re both summons.” “Interesting. If you invest in gaining more constructs or granting them weapons, they could make for a brilliant offensive force. Sorcerers need familiars. If you get one from a shard ability, it will make your life significantly easier.” Penelope paused for a moment, massaging the bridge of her nose. “You have no idea how much work raising and nurturing this pervert was.” She nodded at her familiar. “It's all worth it now, but I almost gave up a bunch of times along the way.” “You’re mean,” Bass complained. He had carried Penelope until they took their break and then returned to his housecat form. The familiar nuzzled his companion’s cheek. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” “That spell wasn’t meant to be targeted,” Penelope answered. “I just pushed myself a touch too hard, I think.” “I wish you hadn’t.” “We needed to finish that as quickly as possible without warning the Wyrmkin or attracting anything or anyone else. It was necessary.” Penelope smiled. “I’ll be fine. Just need a moment to get rid of this damned headache.” “Would you like—” “Can you just give me a moment?” Penelope gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry.” Bass’s ears flattened, and he lowered his head, retreating from her. He glanced at Elvis and El-Four. “I’m going to look ahead.” His ears lengthened, resembling the Common Depth Cat Lukas encountered in Penelope’s clinic. “Don’t move on without me.” Elvis pulled wax paper-wrapped candied orange wedges out of his coat pocket. “Would you like one?” He asked. “They always help Luke when he pushes too hard.” Penelope helped herself to a couple, unwrapping and popping them into her mouth one after the other. A satisfied moan escaped her as she chewed them, and a drop of the sweet juice they contained escaped her mouth and ran down her chin. “Thank you,” Penelope smiled, placing a hand on Elvis’s. “I needed that. You really take care of your brother, don’t you?” Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. “Someone has to,” Elvis said. “He certainly isn’t any good at taking care of himself.” “What was your metamagic ability again?” Penelope asked, turning her attention to El-Two. “Arcane Threads,” El-Two answered. “It makes me more sensitive to spells, wards, and enchantments. Spell modification and intent casting are easier and will cause less mental strain.” “Spell modification is a potent tool in any caster’s kit. Good bit of metamagic. Something of the sort would’ve made my early days much easier.” El-Two also consumed a candied orange wedge. The glassy exterior exploded as soon as he bit into it, spraying the inside of his mouth with sweet, citrusy juice. It provided a decent pick-me-up and also helped with the growing thirst. They sat in silence for a while as Penelope breathed deeply and massaged her temples. Magic pulsed around her. Whatever technique or exercise she was using for recovery, she hadn’t shared with Lukas. The clones kept watch. Elvis’s eyes drifted between their surroundings and his steel shield. Two sets of deep scratches ran across them. The shield’s integrity wasn’t in any danger. Instead, the scars added character to it. Meanwhile, El-Two practiced Shadow Sight. It came easily now since El-Prime had cast it half a dozen times using Spellweaver to tweak the process and feel out the arcane threads. He studied their surroundings, looking for threats and El-Three. The clone was nowhere to be seen, leaving him to wonder if it was okay. Unlike El-Prime, he had no idea if one of the others perished. He also attempted to shape and harden sections of Shade’s Mantle. Ambient magic was in abundance, and as an arcane specialized clone, he had no trouble absorbing and channeling energy. Spellweaver’s passive effects also helped him avoid the mental and physical strain. “How’s your arm?” Penelope asked, just as he was shaping another shadow sphere. “Did the armor hold up?” “Nasty bruise,” El-Two answered, adjusting his vambrace. The claws had shredded a section of it, but only sliced a couple of inches of skin. “The scratch would’ve been way worse if it were any deeper. I can leave it as it is and disinfect it later. But if I suffer anything worse, there is the belt buckle. It will fix everything, everywhere, all at once.” “Come here.” Penelope sighed, waving the clone closer. She rubbed her hands together, mumbling under her breath, and then blew into them. “I'm okay. Really.” “Did you see their nails?” She asked, rolling her eyes, scooting closer to him with gold and azure wisps dancing in her right palm. “They swim in dirty water, tear, and eat raw flesh. Don't wait to clean the wound. Do it as soon as possible.” El-Two complied, surprised by the sudden tenderness. He removed the vambrace. A weeping, angry red line lay underneath. Its edges had a green tinge. The sorcerer pressed a hand against the wound, and instant relief washed over the clone. The stinging subsided straight away, and the stinging faded soon after. Aches and pains from straining himself during the fight also faded. “Thank you,” El-Two said when she pulled away. “Was that not a strain?” “Not at all.” Penelope smiled, waving dismissively. “You played your role and watched my back so I could finish my spell. It could've been catastrophic for all of us if something had interrupted the casting during a crucial moment. Imagine the spikes flying off uncontrolled, failing to differentiate between friend and foe. “My job as the party's primary caster isn't just to take out the big bad or masses, but also to ensure you're in shape to fulfill your role. If you need a quick patch-up, tell me. It doesn't cost or strain me much. And I'd rather you save the vet’s spells for emergencies. Is that understood?” “Yes, ma'am!” The clone saluted and got smacked playfully for it. Elvis shot the pair a mischievous smile before returning his attention to the darkness ahead. “Bass is on his way back. Put your armor back on. Water yourself if you must. Get ready to move. We might not get another break until after we've dealt with whatever lies below.” Before strapping on his vambrace, El-Two helped Elvis with his breastplate. The clone had removed it momentarily to check for damage and fix a dented segment. It was hampering his already limited flexibility. “Thanks, little brother.” Elvis grinned afterward. “You're always so sweet to me.” El-Two gave him a death glare. His fellow clone knew that he couldn't play along. El-Prime never would, and they needed to maintain their roles in front of Penelope. “Stick with our dear sorceress if I don't make it down there. She's good to us. Much to learn. Much to see.” “Don't talk like that, you dolt.” It felt odd to make conversation in front of Penelope. El-Prime had instructed them to have some brotherly exchanges, whatever that means. “We're going to come out of this alive. We always do.”