Chapter 10

The journey between the Guardians of Naomi’s reality and Rionne’s was relatively brief. What had at first been a gravel path with a few signs here and there soon lost the signs, and eventually became a narrow trail beaten on tightly packed dirt through a forest. A thick fog shortened visibility to scarcely some hundred-odd paces away.

As the forest loomed in their path, Naomi called for a stop. “I need to unpack something.”

Rionne observed curiously as her companion unzipped the oblong bag she was carrying, and pulled out a long, slim, black cylindrical object with a handle. “I saw objects like these back at that convention. Where we met Katsumasa.”

“This is the real thing. It’s called a shotgun. Magic is extremely rare back home, but this is what we got instead.” Naomi checked the weapon thoroughly. The safeties were on, and it was unloaded. This particular model resembled an assault rifle in shape and configuration; instead of loading shells one by one, it accepted magazines.

They resumed their walk. “You mentioned it is forbidden to own this weapon without a permit.”

“Very much so. If a policeman had seen me with this thing in the open back home, he’d have thrown me into prison right away. I only use it when I need to go into the Maze.”

“Or beyond it.”

“Or beyond it, yes.”

Rionne’s eyes went again over Naomi’s equipment. “I would like to inspect the ‘shells,’ if you would allow it.”

Naomi removed a yellow-painted shell from one of her magazines. Rionne weighed it in her left hand, then brought it up and looked at it closely. She then held it over her open palm, wielded her staff and pronounced a few command words. The shell hovered over her palm for a moment, then smoothly disassembled itself into its components. A few seconds of careful evaluation, then: “I can replicate these easily.”

Her companion let out a relieved sigh. “That’s not just great, it’s all kinds of awesome. I can only carry so much.”

“It is heavy alright.” Rionne flicked her staff counterclockwise. The shell reassembled itself on the spot, and she handed it back. “Magical quivers exist in my realm that provide archers with an inexhaustible supply of arrows. Given time and resources, something similar could be created for this weapon.”

A snort. “Bottomless mags. Imagine that. Just like an action movie. How long would it take?”

Rionne briefly examined her magazines. “I reckon around two weeks for each piece. The incantations would have to be altered to accommodate this specific kind of ammunition.”

A few steps in silent thought followed. “I don’t think we’ll have that much idle time on our hands. But damn if I wouldn’t want a few of those.”

Rionne considered that. “Normally I would say it depended on your wish to stay or to go, but after speaking to the Fuyutsukis I am not certain.”

A smirk. “I didn’t think they’d impress you so much.”

The elf shook her head. “They offered some wisdom before my departure that they both maintained I will need.”

Naomi’s smile went away. “They’re like that.” Then, after a few moments, “Share whatever you feel like sharing.”

Rionne remained quiet for a while. “Some of it I am still digesting. It is… disconcerting. One accumulates centuries of training and experience and discovers that still is just a child marveling at the bright lights. As for the rest, parts of it you already know. How my magic sustains itself on a substrate we call the Tapestry in my home realm.”

Night was coming fast. Fireflies started flickering here and there. The surrounding forest came alive with nightly sounds: crickets, owls, bats, wolves, and other things that were out of sight, but whose heavy and powerful steps still reached them.

Naomi was slightly unnerved. “What kind of thing makes that noise?”

“Sylvans,” Rionne answered. “An easy way to describe them would be to call them ‘tree folk.’ Their seedlings resemble humanoids with leaves instead of hair and bark instead of skin, some smaller than you, some thrice as tall—but their ancients are towering leviathans. To use your measuring units, an ancient normally stands at around three hundred and fifty meters tall.”

A few minutes later, leaves and bark and grass around started taking on violet hues. Naomi almost asked what that was about, but she saw Rionne was deep in thought and decided it was best not to distract her. Then the path they were treading widened, and soon they arrived at a clearing—though the canopy above their heads was thick.

At the center of a clearing sat what in all likelihood was a sylvan as Rionne had described it, twice as tall as a human, with blue-tinted amber beads for eyes, its violet-tinted leaves and bark both making up what it would have been skin in a normal human. Its attention was focused on some string instrument that resembled an immense harp at first glance.

And the moment it spotted them, it stood up and approached them. Its voice was feminine and musical. “I bid you welcome, Rionne Laurescient, Silver Archsorceress, Bane of the Endless Thirst. May leaves shade your path.”

The elf knelt reverently, Naomi following suit. “Your welcome is unexpected, guardian.”

“Your presence is a blessing for these sore, tired eyes.” The guardian sat with some noises of rustling leaves and creaking wood. “Your world has need of you.”

“I have been told as much. But if you are this solicitous, then it must be worse than I thought.”

“Your allies beseech you. Hilde has sent word and messengers in your search in both your own realm and this one. Tealoth also has.”

Rionne bit the inside of her lip. “And I was spending precious time in a world not my own.”

The guardian regarded Naomi. “And who is this?” She bent to look at her closer. “A denizen of that world?”

Naomi was still on her knees. “I am. Excuse my bluntness, but how do I call you?”

“I am just a guardian of this realm. That word will suffice.” The wooden face knotted some. “Your language is strange. But I know of at least one other person here who speaks it.”

“A boy?”

The sylvan nodded, again with sounds of rustling leaves. “Someone has been spirited away from your realm and into the lady elf’s. I know because I was commanded to open a path for him.”

This immediately drew Rionne’s interest. “Who or what from my realm could command a guardian from this one?”

“A god?” Naomi ventured. “Like Rokyyr?”

The guardian grumbled at the sound of that name. It was a deep, powerfully rumbling sound that sent nearby bats and night birds flying. “I shall excuse your ignorance, stranger, but let this be a warning: that name is thoroughly despised among tree folk. You should ask your companion why. But to answer your question: yes. I cannot, alas, tell who it was.”

“Are you bound by an oath?” Rionne asked.

Again the rustling sound as the guardian shook her head. “No. She is a nascent deity. The coalescence of prayers offered to a lie. Yet nascent or not, the requests of deities one does not dismiss. They stand heads and shoulders above us.”

Rionne glanced at her companion. “Many a thing has happened in my absence. We should not dawdle.” She addressed the guardian. “What do you require of us? In exchange for passage?”

The sylvan had her gaze on Naomi for long seconds, but in the end she asked nothing of her. “What you will do when you arrive at your realm,” she said, standing and stepping aside. “Answer the summons from your allies.”

“That I will do.” Rionne bowed formally. “My thanks to you.”

As they continued their journey, the forest started thinning, and the landscape around became hilly, with thickets of trees here and there amid tall grasses of vibrant purple and lilac. Travelers and passersby started appearing, many of them human like Naomi herself, but whereas she wore military body armor and tear-resistant pants and jacket, that other people were clad in medieval garb and armor instead. Aside from a polite ‘safe travels,’ they did not pay them any attention, but Naomi scrutinized them closely still. “None of them are real.”

“But this is what real humans resemble in my realm.”

There were many fantastic and exotic (or even sometimes creepy, many-eyed and many-armed) creatures that were not human or dwarves or elves in the classical style. Most of those belonged to two different species: either sylvans like the guardian they had met, in many shapes and sizes, or large and burly or petite but winged dragonkin.

Then the first shocker came. As their path took them near a thicket, a large chunk of a tree was solid black nothingness, a mass of light-sucking void where wood should have been. Tiny, hairlike strands of light remained attached to the rest of the tree and floated over the blackness, as if what had once been there had been torn off or broken down.

Naomi recoiled at the sight. “That doesn’t look good.”

Rionne herself was pale. “This is what we were warned about,” she said grimly.

“I was thinking… I was surprised that the guardian did not ask anything of you as the guardian of my realm asked of me.”

“Probably the guardian knows my ordeal lies ahead of me. Not behind.” She intensely stared at the gaping hole in the Maze, as if trying to commit its most minuscule details to memory.

“Will it look like this outside the Maze?”

“That is unknown to me at this point. But I believe not.” Rionne held a hand over her chin and mouth, thinking. “I noticed nothing out of the ordinary before casting the teleport spell that landed me in Tokyo.”

Their path took them around the thicket, where they found another gaping hole, this time right on the ground—and another surprise. Right next to it sat a hooded figure wearing long, hooded robes, weaving long, thin threads of light over the void—

Naomi gasped. “His hands—”

The figure turned towards them. Just a few lines of light hinted at a face and a head—most of him was completely invisible. He raised a hand in greeting, equally transparent except for just a few glowing contours, then returned to his work.

Naomi was enthralled. “What are they?”

“Those who tend the Tapestry,” Rionne answered. “How they call themselves is unknown. They’re commonly referred to as the Loomkin. And they are a very rare sight.”

“So… If these ‘loomkin’ repair the Tapestry, and it’s coming apart, then there’s not enough of them to do the work… right?”

Rionne kept her gaze on the creature and its fascinating work. “I know not myself, but your theory is a good starting point.”