Chapter 11

As they approached the exit to Rionne’s realm, the Maze resembled medieval countryside more and more, to eventually become a township of cobbled streets; people of all species and sizes—humans, elves, dwarves, faeries, pixies, orc, ogres and whatnot—walked them, and once again it was difficult to tell who was real and who was not. Multiple moons, stellar dust clouds and stars in numbers Naomi had never seen lit the night sky.

“This is the most beautiful sky I have ever seen,” Naomi said wistfully.

“I missed the nightly firmament during my stay in Tokyo,” Rionne agreed. “Your realm was not devoid of beauty, but how anyone managed to actually rest after sunset in such a raucous and illuminated city was lost on me.” She smiled placidly. “I can hardly think of a better welcome than this.”

The path led them to a two-story inn, with glowing gems set on sconces on either side of the entrance. The door was heavy and tightly closed. A lute was being played inside, patrons bantering and hurling profanities at one another.

“Seems to be the exit,” Naomi hazarded. Her head swiveled around: there were many other buildings in sight, but all doors were conveniently obscured by patrons or carts or trees or the like.

Rionne was examining the inn with a frown. Naomi saw this. “Anything wrong?”

“I know this inn. I never thought a gate to an otherworldly maze would be here.” A nod. “There is something we must do for your sake first.” Rionne held her left open palm before her and spoke a few sentences of arcane words, the runes on her staff glowing, then she spun a silver ring out of strands of light, just like the ring she had crafted for Katsumasa. “While wearing this, you should have no problem communicating with others.”

Naomi put on the ring at once. “Thanks.” A quiet laugh. “I slipped. I’ve gotten so used to you using magic to smooth this one over that I had forgotten it.”

“I have endeavored to facilitate understanding between us, but others will not be as accommodating.”

Naomi agreed. “Should keep that in mind. Ready.”

The elf pushed the door open, and they stepped into the inn’s common hall. There were some guests sitting by the tables, but nowhere near as many as the noises they had heard while inside the Maze had led them to believe.

A thin, diminutive man with large eyes and pointed ears stepped from behind a counter and toward them. “Oh, late guests! Good evening, please be welcome. You must be tired.” He regarded Rionne curiously, then grinned. “The archsorceress? It’s been a long time since your last visit! Come in, don’t stand there! Some cherry liqueur?”

Rionne smiled. “You have always been an expert at flattering people, Finn.”

“A poor innkeeper I would be otherwise, wouldn’t you say?” He went back to his counter, opened a barrel behind it, pulled out a bottle, and poured a ruby liquid into a small shot glass. “To your health.” Then he looked at Naomi with a frown. “And for your companion? Is it your first time here in Pioneers’ Landing?”

“First time ever in this country. I’m Naomi.”

“Na-o-mi… never heard a name in that likeness.”

“I come from a country far, far away.”

Finn lowered his voice. “You need not disguise your origins. I guard this gate.”

Rionne facepalmed. “I always suspected you were up to something but I never guessed you were a gatekeeper yourself.”

“A poor keeper I would be if I couldn’t keep my duties a secret. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Is there a need for it?” Naomi asked. “Also, if you’ll forgive my curiosity, Rionne-sama—I mean, the Lady Rionne is of elven blood. You seem similar but not quite. She has large eyes already but yours are even larger.”

“That is because I am not like our esteemed sorceress, Lady Naomi,” Finn said genially, pouring cold water into a metal cup and handing it over to her. “My mother is human herself.”

“Oh. A half-elf.”

“The kindness is appreciated,” the innkeeper/gatekeeper chuckled. “I usually get the ‘half-breed’ or ‘mongrel’ treatment here.” Then his voice lowered again. “In regards to your second question, yes, the secrecy is necessary. The main gate to the Coop is guarded tighter than a miser’s purse. It hasn’t gotten to the point that transit licenses are required to cross it in either direction, but that’s where we seem to be going.”

Rionne downed her drink and exhaled briefly in bliss. “I had so missed this flavor.” Then she grinned. “But I bear delicacies of my own.” She reached into a small purse on her belt and pulled out a bottle of Porto brandy. “You will want to try this, Finn.”

Finn uncapped the Porto brandy and smelled it with eyes closed. “By the Saint, Lady, where have you found this?”

“That tale is long, complicated, and fraught with many turns.”

Finn poured himself a cup of brandy with a chuckle. “Fine, keep your secret if you so desire. As long as you can get me another bottle of this delicacy, as you most adequately described it.”

“That can be arranged. Can you explain why the gate is being watched so closely?”

Finn sipped the brandy with eyes closed, then let out a pleased sigh. “I am tempted to demand your secret in exchange, but I will be generous. There have been Reaver raids—farms, lumber camps. They’ve also clashed with the Wyrmspire dragonkin.”

Rionne shook her head in frustration. Naomi observed her. “Business as usual, I gather.”

“Ha! That’s a colorful piece of wordplay, Lady Naomi, ‘business as usual.’ I’ll appropriate it if you don’t object. And yes, it is the usual. Reavers are violently militant on the best of days.” Finn saw Naomi’s puzzlement, so he added, “As a first timer here, I take it you have yet to meet your first sylvan?”

Naomi shook her head. “I’ve already seen one.” She described the guardian she had seen at the maze.

Finn nodded. “That sylvan you saw—definitely one of the quiet ones. They claim to belong to the ‘Boughsong,’ whatever that is. They’re communal, all about cooperation and growth.”

“And Reavers… they hunt them? You mentioned something about dragonkin…”

“A Reaver is what you get when you take a sylvan, pull out every last leaf on their bodies, and replace them with needle-sharp thorns that can slip right through leather. Gods help you if they see you take an axe to a tree.”

Naomi reached for one of her magazines and checked it. “Bless whatever god or goddess prompted me to carry phosphorous shells.”

Rionne eyed her, then the patrons at the tables. Nobody was paying them any attention. “Maybe it would not be unwise after all if you instructed me in the use of your tools. But not now, and not today.”

“Will you be staying in for the night?” Finn asked. “The meal will be served soon.”

Finn went behind the counter and reached for keys hanging from two of several numbered hooks, and handed them to Naomi and Rionne. “I’ve given you two rooms, numbers three and four. Make yourselves comfortable, but don’t take long if you want to be here for dinner.”

Naomi followed Rionne up the wooden stairs, her eyes darting around, noticing everything: the wooden paneling on the walls, the glowing gems on the wall sconces, the carpet on the floor, the glass paneling on the windows. “I guess I understand you a little better now.”

Rionne chuckled. “Your friend Ayase said, ‘culture shock is a bitch.’”

“Spot on. And now that I think of it, you took it in stride.”

The wizard unlocked the door to her room. “I have been to other realities before. To places stranger than Tokyo.”

“You mentioned that.” Naomi wrinkled her nose as she opened the door to her own room. “I only hope they don’t have bedbugs here.”

“I know not what that is, but in this realm, fleas and ticks are your usual bedmates in lower-class inns.”

Naomi blanched. “I didn’t want to know that.”

“Worry not. Finn’s is above average. You will see.”

Naomi was pleasantly surprised to see Rionne had been right. The room was simple but clean and well maintained: it featured carpeted floors, a window with a full view of the cobbled streets below, and a private bathroom boasting something she had never expected to see in a medieval-style inn—a bathtub with a functioning shower and soaps, and a metal toilet. She felt tempted to fill the tub, but remembered Finn’s warning and contented herself with a much welcome shower instead.

Twenty or so minutes later, Naomi left her room feeling refreshed. She knocked on Rionne’s door. “Come in,” the elf answered.

Naomi walked in and—“Hey, you could have told me you were changing.”

Rionne was undressed, her long blonde hair loose and freshly washed. “My kind, and I reckon most peoples here, do not have the taboos and mores around nudity that your culture has so thoroughly developed.” A wry look. “I recall your words: in your realm it is considered ‘seductive’ for a woman to ‘show off her beauty,’ but woe to the female that exposes herself completely. We elves do not perform that kind of mental gymnastics.”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m curious. Are elves common here? In this realm?”

Rionne shook her head. “We are not. A great many of my kind reside right here in Pioneers’ Landing; there is a ward dedicated to them, the Elven Quarter. But beyond this town, we are rare. We originally came into this realm from the Coop.” She laid out her long chain mail battle dress on her bed, then spoke a few command words. A brief lightning flash, and the little dust and grime that had clung to it were gone.

“That’s a neat trick.”

“You mentioned you have some knowledge of magic. This is something I could teach you if you want.”

A grin. “As long as you don’t whip me each time I screw up.”

Rionne was briefly thrown off balance. “Fair,” she accepted. “I promise I will try to be patient.”

“I can live with that.” Naomi returned to their original discussion. “What’s the Coop? I’ve heard that word a few times now.

“Remember the crossroads between realities that I once mentioned in passing? Many call that place the Coop. It is a humongous city, one that would dwarf your Tokyo. Gateways to many realms spontaneously open and close there. Look hard enough, and you could find there a gate leading to any place you wanted.”

Naomi’s gaze went over Rionne’s form. “Your scars… what happened to you? Was that Rokyyr?”

“That was one battle. I have fought many. Few of them were cleanly won.”

“I know you’d rather not hear—I mean…” Rionne’s gaze searched her questioningly, and Naomi could not evade it. “Some of your scars don’t appear in the manga.”

A frown. “Which ones?”

Naomi pointed at a long scar that crossed Rionne’s chest diagonally, upper-left to lower-right. “If you feel like telling me, how did you even survive that?”

“I almost did not,” Rionne admitted. “The loomkin brought me back. That was the first time I faced dragons in battle—they besieged one of their last known redoubts. After that, they went completely underground.”

Naomi did not look away. “I’m surprised.” Rionne arched her eyebrows. “I mean—a manga author would not just forget about a scar that big.”

Rionne sat on her bed. “I have no answers for you. I do not know the full extent of everything Katsumasa witnessed.” She exhaled. “And hearing your words, maybe I would rather not ask him. But enough of this. How did you find your room?”

“I was very surprised to see they have sanitation here. And hot water.”

“That is Finn’s pride and joy. Do not get used to it—once we leave this town, every time we stop at an inn you will have to wash in a tub. If we do stop at an inn at all, that is.”

“I hear that and I get the feeling you have a plan already.”

“Many, actually. Tomorrow I have people to visit, but first I have some spells to cast.” Rionne donned her battle dress, then upon a command word her hair settled into her usual braid. Next she went into the bathroom and returned with a simple metal basin full of water.

“I’ve seen something like this. You’re going to do some far seeing, right?”

“Since I am going to try and teach you magic, the correct term is ‘clairvoyance.’ But you are for the most part correct.” Rionne put the basin on her bed. “It works best as sympathetic magic. You provide an object that holds emotional significance for the person you seek, and the spell will steer you towards them.”

“So the coins we found at Satou’s place…”

“They will be perfect for this.”

Naomi reached into a hip satchel and pulled out a small leather bag with the uncomfortably heavy coins. “I thought these were made out of copper, but they’re not, right?”

“Noble red gold,” Rionne answered. “One of the rarest and most expensive metals in this realm. Drop them into the basin.”

Naomi did. Then Rionne sank her fingers into the water and spoke a few words. Glow flickered briefly around her fingertips, then the wood and the coins underneath the surface vanished. And an image started forming. A forest quickly sped past their eyes, as if they were watching through the eyes of a bird. Then the forest gave way to a jungle that grew thicker by the moment, soon becoming a triple-canopy landscape through which little light filtered.

“Are you familiar with this land?”

Rionne nodded. “This is relatively close by. These lands as a whole are called the Cauldron. This is their southeastern part.”

Streams, ponds and lagoons started appearing, then eventually the jungle gave way to a swampy marsh.

The marshes turned into mangrove swamps, then at last those too gave way to the water, and the landscape became a huge mass of water only disturbed here and there by some islands. The surface of one such island was almost totally occupied by the enormous, gigantic bulk of a single tree several hundred meters—

Naomi gasped. “Wait, that’s—!”

Rionne nodded. “An Ancient.”

As their ‘bird’ approached the island, more and more details became visible. “There’s… people living atop the Ancient? Sylvans and—elves? And humans? And… wait, what? Are those dragonkin? Aren’t they enemies?”

“Those are mostly gray dragonkin—‘greyscales.’ Outcasts among their own people. If you respect their ways, the Boughsong sylvans are very welcoming.”

“They’ve built a whole city on its back… is that a—what, a mage tower? Grown out of wood?”

Rionne nodded. “I know this particular Ancient and its community. This is Orvaleth, Ancient of the Pond.”

“The ‘Pond’?” Naomi laughed. “They call this body of water just a ‘pond’?”

“From an Ancient’s perspective, it is barely one. And yes, Orvaleth has fostered magic on his branches. Whole colleges live on his back. Also, an entire community of loomkin.” Rionne’s voice lowered. “In fact, it is because of the loomkin that Orvaleth decided his community should become a beacon of magical knowledge.”

Naomi fell silent, thinking. “Because of the loomkin…”

Rionne observed her from the corner of her eye. “Keep going, Naomi.”

Naomi thought some more. “You mentioned you fought dragons to protect a loomkin redoubt. And that loomkin are very rare. And this Ancient here protects them…” Then her brow knotted. “Dragons hunt loomkin? Why?”

“Dragons believe devouring loomkin empowers them—and any progeny they engender.”

“So they—what?! They eat the people fixing the Tapestry?!”

The elf clenched her jaw. “Remember what I explained about the superiority complex of dragons. You will have an easier time squeezing water out of a rock than reasoning with one.”

“But that’s—” Naomi was aghast, but then her brain worked and she shook her head. “Say no more,” she muttered. “Back home we have about the same success fixing our own problems.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “You said, ‘dragons believe,’ but is it true?”

“I do not know,” Rionne admitted. “Dragons guard their secrets very jealously.”

Soon they left the Pond behind, and again the land turned into a mangrove swamp first and a marsh next. This time they saw another Ancient, one outright monstrous as it was not just covered in leaves, but also in spikes. The buildings in sight looked similarly ominous, festooned with stakes and piercing outgrowths. Parts of it were blackened, as if it had recently suffered from a fire, and it was almost exclusively populated by sylvans—very dangerous-looking ones, juggernauts of bark and thorn. Naomi thought she recognized this. “The Reavers, right?”

A nod. “Indeed. This is Vornaleth, Ancient of the War Drums.” Rionne studied the image closely. “They have been in a fight recently.”

Naomi frowned. “I’m missing something here. Are the loomkin and the sylvans allies?”

“I believe you would call them ‘refugees.’ But loomkin have power of their own. Their command of the Tapestry means their magical talent is unsurpassed.”

“So that’s why Orvaleth decided to foster magic.”

“There are other reasons for that. You will soon see.”

Again the land turned into a jungle first and a forest next, then it started thinning out as tall peaks became visible on either side. Then what little forest remained gave way to some arid plains that quickly turned gray-white.

And soon they flew past a huge blackened shape that lay outstretched on the land like a corpse, jagged scorched branches jutting out towards the sky—

—and abruptly, the basin went completely black.

Rionne swore in her mother tongue. Naomi blinked. “What happened?”

“The Tapestry is damaged at that point.” Concern was etched on the elf’s face.

“That last thing I saw…”

“Those were the Ashen Graves,” Rionne said with grim solemnity. “Centuries ago, dragons massed and burned several Ancients down. Not a blade of grass has grown again on the site of the massacre.”

Naomi kept her eyes on the basin. Now the water was transparent again. The red-gold coins glittered on the bottom. “No wonder that big thorny guy went zealot. And the other one in the Pond welcomes mages.”

“To quote Vornaleth’s Leafspeaker, ‘there can be no peace in this realm while the bones of our forefathers lay unburied under the sky and their killers feast in their houses of rock and gold.’”

“Hard to blame them, if you put it that way,” Naomi mused. “The Ashen Graves… that’s where you fought Rokyyr. Did it happen when the dragons burned the Ancients?”

Rionne shook her head. “I was but an infant then. But the elders in my community were appalled to a fault and called it a desecration. Because of the Ashen Graves massacre, elves in this realm mostly support sylvans.”

Naomi wanted to know more about her battle with the dragon god, but felt it was not the best of ideas to pry further. “So… where does this ‘clairvoyance’ session leave us?”

Rionne was thinking. “I could experiment with other types of magic, but if the Tapestry has frayed near the Ashen Graves… the other ways through the mountains circling the Cauldron are passes in the territories of dragons I am not on friendly terms with. Or a journey through blighted lands.” She shook her head. “Neither is feasible. If we learn nothing else tomorrow from other sources, we will have to journey to the Ashen Graves ourselves.”