Roland emerged from Jurall’s Canon wreathed in flame, Jurall’s dramatic song and beating drums resonating throughout the entire caldera. The path he’d made with Kirin, Vi, and Shureen was gone, but that was no trouble for him now. He walked across the magma unscathed, and climbed the steps to the rim of the caldera, and the waiting Tsubasa.
With a sigh, Roland let Jurall’s song come to an end, and dismissed the flames that had surrounded him. Inwardly, he was very nearly rolling his eyes. Jurall was determined to be dramatic and awe-inspiring, which didn’t suit Roland much at all.
He’d certainly had his desired effect on Tsubasa, however. She was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed, completely lost for words.
Roland waited a moment, and when she still said nothing, he smiled, and said, “I did it.”
“Y-you…” Tsubasa started. “You really did!” She jumped up high, pumping her fist in the air. “I was just about ready to come in after you, too. Nice timing! Can I…” She leaned towards Roland. “Can I see your new tattoo?”
Roland pulled off his jacket, and then rolled up his shirt sleeve — which was easy, with his preference for very baggy clothing — all the way to his shoulder. There, above the huge tattoo of Shureen along his upper arm, was a flaming explosion, a strangely ordered expression of destructive power.
“More abstract, like Kirin and Vi’s,” Tsubasa said, nodding sagely. “And… actually kinda smaller than theirs, a little bit. I guess your affinity with fire is weakest?”
“More like my affinity with Jurall,” Roland said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We have a, um… tentative agreement at the moment. Kirin, Vi, and Shureen each bonded with me easily; the agreement was full and mutual. Jurall is… more ‘perhaps’ than ‘definitely.’ ”
“Sounds complicated,” Tsubasa said. “Oh hey, we’ve got company.” She looked back down the stairs as six of the armored gatekeepers of the Mountain came marching up. They each gazed at Roland’s tattoo, and then struck fists to their breastplates in sharp salute and bowed.
“Hail the flame-touched conqueror!” they cried in unison.
Roland winced. “I… beg your pardon?” he asked.
“That is the title of one who has completed the trials and conquered the Lord of the First Quartet,” said one of the gatekeepers, tentatively raising his head.
“I’m…” Roland started, hesitantly, then found his conviction, and shook his head. “No,” he continued firmly. “I won’t be called a conqueror. That’s not what happened in the Canon. Jurall and I have formed a Pact. We are partners, not the conqueror and the conquered.”
The gatekeepers glanced at each other confusedly. “Then… what should we call you?” asked the one in the lead.
“Just a Summoner,” Roland said. “Jurall doesn’t object. Do you?” He asked this last question inwardly, and Jurall told him that “conqueror” was exactly what he had instructed the guardians of the Mountain to call any who won a Pact with him. But while he hesitated a moment, he agreed with Roland’s assessment. A beat later, the sound of rolling drums echoed out from the caldera, authoritative and final.
“Yes, My Lord!” the lead gatekeeper cried, and all six snapped smart salutes. “If that is your wish, then, Summoner… we shall abide. Come with us. We shall bring you back down the Mountain.”
“Ooh, we don’t have to climb back down again?” Tsubasa asked. “That’s nice!”
“This path only exists for the gatekeepers and any conquering — sorry, um… triumphant Summoners,” the lead gatekeeper said. He led them aside to a wall of rock, and struck his fist against it. The metal of his gauntlet resonated with the rock in a strange, ethereal tone. A moment later, the rock slid aside, a perfectly concealed doorway opening up.
Inside was a metallic freight elevator, large and sturdy enough to support four or five automobiles, giving them plenty of space as they began their descent. There were rippling windows in the rock, offering a view of the landscape outside. When Roland and Tsubasa asked about them — they hadn’t seen any windows during the climb — they were told it was a heat illusion, not unlike what Roland had faced within the Canon. Only here, they weren’t conjured to fool, but to provide a window to the outside without revealing the secrets within.
“Muirrach and the twins are gonna be thrilled,” Tsubasa said, beaming. “Four down. Where’s the next Canon, and who’s it for?”
“That’s where I’m fairly uncertain,” Roland said. “There are hints and clues about the second Quartet, but I’ve never read or been told anything truly concrete.”
“Answers only come to those who complete the First Quartet, sir,” said one of the gatekeepers. “When you come to the base of the Mountain, you’ll see.”
The freight elevator came to a stop a little while after that, and between the elevator’s exit and the doors leading back out to the city…
There was a circle of fire.
“The con— sorry, the Summoner must step within the flames,” said the lead gatekeeper. “The Lord of the First Quartet shall show you what comes next.”
“Interesting,” Roland said. He stepped forward into the high, blazing flames without a moment’s hesitation. The fire didn’t burn him, though he did find the dry, crackling heat somewhat uncomfortable.
And in the fire, Jurall sang to him, and showed him a vision. “Here you shall find the answers you seek.” It was a brief exchange, and the fires extinguished almost too fast for Roland to take it all in. But he committed what he’d seen to memory. It helped that the structure he’d seen in the flames — an otherworldly castle with eight towers — was one he’d read about before.
“So?” Tsubasa asked, rejoining Roland.
“Let’s talk it all over with everyone, shall we?” Roland asked, smiling. They headed through the door, and found themselves back at the base of the mountain, striding through the gateway back into town. At first Roland thought it was around sunset, but the pale light he saw towards one horizon wasn’t like sunset. It was more like…
“Oh,” he said, his eyes finding one of the town’s many clock towers. “It’s…”
“Morning,” Tsubasa said. “We spent a whole half-day and night! No wonder I’m kind of sleepy.”
“Oh!” cried a voice. Roland and Tsubasa looked over to see a rather sleepy-looking teenaged feline come trotting up to them, rubbing his bleary eyes. “You’re the Summoner and such and such, right? Roland and Tsubasa, was it?”
“Yes,” Roland said. “Did our friends ask you to watch out for us?”
“Sure did.” The feline smiled, his whiskers twitching. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re staying at the Steamfont. Just check in at the desk, they’ll get you sorted.”
“Thank you very much,” Roland said.
“Ah, nothing to it,” the messenger said, shrugging. “Just glad I could help. Say… you won over Jurall, didn’t you?” He leaned in a bit, eyes glittering with delight. “Before the city wakes up and you’re the talk of the town… do you think… I could see the tattoo first?”
Roland realized his sleeve had come down a bit, enough to hide Jurall’s tattoo. He rolled it back up to show the teen, whose eyes went wide with wonderment. Suddenly he could barely get a single intelligible word out, but he kept bowing and grinning and giggling and finally said something close enough to “thanks a bunch” before heading off on his way, practically skipping down the lane.
“Ready to be a local celebrity again?” Tsubasa asked, grinning.
“Temporarily,” Roland said, swallowing a sigh. He knew how it went. That didn’t make it any easier each time. “Come on, let’s see how the others are doing.”
The Steamfont was a wide, three-tiered establishment with balconies running along three sides on all three floors, while the back was more enclosed, because there they had their own lavish hot spring for patrons to enjoy in comfort. Checking in at the desk, Roland and Tsubasa learned where their friends were staying, and headed up to the third floor where a spacious four bedroom suite awaited them.
Stepping inside was a shock to the senses. The Steamfont must have crystal-powered climate control, a rarity even in the industrially advanced Ars Moran, because the air here was refreshingly cool, like stepping from midday on the hottest day of summer into a cool autumn evening. Seated by the balcony, but with the doors closed, was Muirrach, reading a book. He marked his page and set it down when he saw Roland and Tsubasa come in, and stood, looking not the least bit tired. In fact, he looked in far better health and spirits than he had when Roland had left him on the hot street at the base of the Mountain.
“Well done,” Muirrach said, holding out his hand.
Roland clasped it, overcome with emotion at the warmth in Muirrach’s voice and the smile on his broad mouth. “Thank you,” he said, finding his voice. “Are the twins asleep?”
“Aye,” Muirrach said. “But I promised I’d wake them when you returned, if it came to it. Just a moment.”
Muirrach returned several moments later — Erika was quite the heavy sleeper — with both the twins, Enrique wide awake already, and Erika blinking blearily even as she was clearly astonished and delighted to find Roland and Tsubasa back at last.
“I’m s’glad you’re… back,” she said, smiling an adorably sleepy smile.
“What was it like?” Enrique asked. “Ah, I see Jurall’s tattoo is more abstract, like Kirin and Vi’s. Surely that —”
“All right, all right, let’s not go all sorts of different directions here,” Tsubasa said, laughing at Enrique. “We’ll tell you the whole story from the beginning. That’s the best way.”
So they sat down in the suite’s sitting room around a round table. Muirrach and Tsubasa procured drinks for them all — there was a tap for both cold and hot running water, and even an ice chest, so they were able to enjoy ice water — and then Roland and Tsubasa relayed their tale.
Erika became more awake, little by little, with every detail. By the time they’d gotten to the fight with the magma guardians and the giant magma cobra on the slopes of the Mountain, she was as wide-eyed with amazement as Enrique. Roland took over the tale of the Canon itself, which Tsubasa hadn’t heard yet either. When he told of his contest against Jurall, of his efforts to deny the solutions Jurall wanted him to take, and of the Pact they’d formed, Tsubasa was the first to respond.
“He’s a punk,” she said pointedly, frowning at Roland’s fire-red tattoo. “Arrogance is such a killjoy. Don’t get a big head just because you’re Lord of one Quartet, mister. There’s a whole other four Fantasians out there who don’t have to answer to you.”
“And Kirin, Vi, and Shureen aren’t exactly keen on answering to him, either,” Roland said, chuckling. “It’s… an intriguing relationship. I’m looking forward to learning more about them.”
“But that’s four Fantasians found, and four Pacts formed!” Erika said, beaming. “So now we just go to the next four!”
“Which are…?” Enrique asked, eyeing Roland.
“Jurall showed me a vision,” Roland said. He glanced at Muirrach, who gazed back at him levelly, giving away nothing about how much he knew of this next step. “Before we form Pacts with the Fantasians of the second Quartet —”
“Hold on, before?” Erika asked. “Why can’t you just go to them?”
“I’m sure he was about to explain exactly that, if you just waited,” Enrique said patiently.
“We have to travel to Aula Fantasia,” Roland continued. “It’s the castle of the Fantasians — more symbolic than literal, since they reside in their Canons, rather than at the castle — but… it’s strange that I would be sent there now.”
“Indeed,” Muirrach said. “Aula Fantasia is meant to be where all eight Fantasians combine their powers to connect to Elysia, completing the Path of the Eight. Traveling there at the halfway point is… not something I’ve heard of. But then, while we can learn much of the natures of the second Quartet by reports from Summoners and other travelers, there is precious little clear information on where they reside, or what order they are encountered in, or how to find their Canons.”
“And Jurall isn’t particularly forthcoming,” Roland said. “But the answers we seek await us there. From Aula Fantasia, I can only hope we’ll have a clear path forward to the fifth Canon and the rest beyond.”
“But no one even knows where the last four Canons are?” Erika asked. “Isn’t that… weird, though?”
“It is,” Roland said, nodding. “But Wonderia is a realm that delights in confounding the certainty of mortals. If you spend enough time studying Wonderia, you’ll learn that for everything that makes sense and can be properly explained, there are at least three things that don’t, and can’t. But the unclear nature of the Second Quartet’s locations is characteristic of them.”
“You’ve only mentioned their names before,” Enrique said. “But they’re very different from the First Quartet, aren’t they?”
“Muirrach?” Roland asked. Not so much because he didn’t know, but because, quite honestly, he was exhausted from the Mountain, and the Canon, and the heat, and talking, and he really could use a bit of a break to drink more water and rest his voice.
“The First Quartet could be said to represent the primal forces of nature and the natural world,” Muirrach said, his voice, like waves crashing against rocky cliffs, washing over them. “The earth and growing things, the wind and air, the water that is so vital to life, the fire and heat. These are clearly defined, distinct. The Second Quartet are more attuned to higher ideas rather than forces. Luna, Lord of the Second Quartet, embodies light, but that could be said to be more about the light of the Creator that lives within each of us, the light of understanding that guides our minds and spirits, the light of learning that helps us grow and adapt. Zexal is a being of motion, of movement, embodying the pulse and pace of life and living, of the world and its peoples. Huill was given the spirit of the arts, the soul of the peoples and cultures, and was the one to first teach music to the peoples of the realms, and language, and storytelling. From him came the Muses, who continue to foster creativity and storytelling among the peoples to this day. And then there is ChronoLogy, the embodiment of time in all its complexity — past, present, and future intertwined, simultaneous, complete. Together, these four form the Second Quartet of the eight Greater Fantasians, and the final four Pacts to form for any Summoner on the Path.”
“They’re so much more complex than the first four,” Enrique said. And then his eyes went to Roland, and he held up his hands. “Oh, I didn’t mean any offence, though.”
“Kirin takes no offense,” Roland said, chuckling at the voices stirring within him. “Vi is rather displeased, but she’ll let you get away with it. Shureen takes no offence, though she disagrees with your assessment. And Jurall… well.” He shrugged, refusing to repeat Jurall’s fiery rebuke.
“He’s angry,” Tsubasa said with a groan. “You gotta keep him in check.”
“We’re still working on getting to know each other,” Roland said, happy to hear Shureen and Kirin reaching out to Jurall in soothing — yet also gently admonishing — tones.
“Oh, but the essences of the second Quartet explain why they aren’t so easy to find, right?” Tsubasa asked. “Kirin is at the heart of nature, Vi in the windiest place with the purest air, Shureen in the most beautiful sea, Jurall inside the hottest volcano. Each place reflects who they are. But where would the other four decide to live?”
“That’s exactly the question,” Muirrach said. “Many have posited that the second Quartet do not stay in one place, but move as the cultures and hearts of peoples move and change.”
“Luna has to be on the moon, though, right?” Erika asked. “I mean, it’s in the name.”
“But if that’s true, which moon?” Enrique asked. “Albia has a pale moon that shines in the day, and the silver moon at night. Wonderia has the Cúplach, twin moons, as well.”
“Why not all of them?” Erika asked. “If the Fantasians are that amazing, then they could exist in multiple places at once, couldn’t they? Or maybe each and every moon has a doorway to Luna’s Canon!”
“Of course, if that’s the case,” Tsubasa said, “you gotta wonder how we’re going to get to any of the moons in the first place.”
“Huh?” Erika asked, looking at Tsubasa strangely for a moment. She blinked twice, then chuckled. “Oh, right. Yeah, of course. That’s… tricky, isn’t it?”
“Try physically impossible with known science,” Muirrach said. “Though, if an entrance to Luna’s Canon is on one of the moons, previous Summoners will have found a way. If they have, so will we.”
“That’s the spirit!” Tsubasa said, grinning.
“And we keep coming back to previous Summoners,” Erika said, sitting back, pursing her lips in thought. “But… isn’t it strange? Other Summoners have completed the Path of the Eight. But none of them have reconnected us to Elysia. So why… I mean, of course I believe in Roland. And I want him to succeed. I just… why would he succeed when everyone else has failed?”
“Something must have went wrong,” Enrique said. “In the Canticos, the Song of the Eight clearly states that a Summoner who completes the Path of the Eight will reach Elysia.”
“But the Song of the Promise also ‘clearly states’ that it’s the Promised King and Promised Queen who will reconnect us to Elysia,” Roland said. He smiled gently at Enrique’s puzzled look. “The Canticos is divine truth, absolutely. But we understand it far less than we would like. So many of its Songs have yet to be fulfilled. Until they are, how can we know what they’re truly saying?”
“That’s not very helpful, though,” Enrique said, frowning. He started tilting back in his chair, brow furrowed in thought. “The Canticos is a collection of the Songs first sung by the Creator himself, then relayed to the peoples by the Cantors, and inscribed by the prophets. They’re important. We’re supposed to understand them. If they can’t mean exactly what they say, then what’s the point?” He suddenly tilted back too far, and was about to fall flat on his back — but Erika’s hand was there to steady his chair, as if she’d known all along he was going to end up making that mistake.
“Not every Song is an enigmatic cypher,” Muirrach said. “The Songs of the Wise teach us how to live our lives rightly. The Songs of the Prophets tell the stories of the world’s earliest days. It’s only the Songs that still sing of unfulfilled prophecy that leave us wondering, guessing, examining, trying to make sense of them. What can be helpful — as confounding as it can sound — is that every prior Song of prophecy seemed to also be full of contradictions, to clearly state what it meant and yet be impossible, before it was fulfilled. And, upon fulfillment, it suddenly made perfect sense.”
“Best not to try and think you understand prophecy before it’s been completed,” Tsubasa said with a nonchalant shrug. “The point is, Roland’s Teacher said he’d be the one to open the door to lost Elysia. But to do that, he’s got to complete the Path of the Eight first, and he’s only halfway there. Once he’s formed all eight Pacts, if that still doesn’t open the way to Elysia, then we can start worrying and wondering over what to do next.” She smiled gently, and cut Enrique off before he could reply. “We know how important it is for you to reach Elysia. And we’re going to make sure that happens. So don’t worry so much over not understanding the prophecy that fits with Roland’s Path. Just focus on the Path, and we’ll make it. Right?”
“That’s right,” Erika said, smiling. She placed her hand on Enrique’s. “We can only do as much as we can. Let’s focus on what we know, and without worrying about what we don’t, work on finding more answers to those lingering questions along the way.”
“That… is probably best,” Enrique said. His shoulders drooped a little, stress and tension leaving him. “So. Aula Fantasia. How do we get there?”
“That’s certainly the question,” Roland said, chuckling. He and Tsubasa retrieved some maps of Wonderia from their bags and spread them out across the table, along with seasonal reference charts. “Aula Fantasia is located at Wonderia’s northernmost point — such as it is.”
“Such as it is?” Enrique asked, eyeing the maps with great interest.
“Wonderia doesn’t have perfect northern or southern poles, in a magnetic sense,” Tsubasa said. “So it’s hard to pinpoint the exact northernmost or southernmost point of Wonderia. Especially since those points, once someone does seem to pinpoint them, decide to move sometimes. Just because.”
“There are probably four paths that would work best,” Roland said, starting to trace them on the maps.
“Three,” Muirrach said, tapping a spot on the map labeled “Aîrchal.”
“Oh, right,” Roland said. “We don’t want to end up there. So three, then.”
“What’s… air call?” Erika asked, squinting at the place’s name.
“Aîrchal,” Roland said with proper pronunciation, sounding like “ire-shoal.” “It’s the land of the lost. If you wander in there, getting out again is… complicated.”
“To say the least,” Tsubasa said. “Marking it on a map seems counterproductive, though. I mean, it might be there this time of year. Or it might be anywhere else.”
“You can’t ever get there on purpose,” Muirrach said. “Only by accident. But following the Glachlenn Fairway takes us too close to several Fractures, and the miasma that Fractures emit can often sweep people away to Aîrchal.”
“If they don’t just fall into the Fracture itself,” Tsubasa said with a shudder. “Yeah, definitely not that way. Still, that leaves us with three good roads. Oh, wait.” She tapped a reddish-brown forest labeled “Curio Oiruc.” “It’s summer.”
Roland sighed. “Right,” he said. “Curio Oiruc expands during summer, and any journey through it takes longer than you intend.”
“How much longer?” Enrique asked.
“Depends on how long you intend to take,” Tsubasa said. “And it has to be a reasonable estimation, you can’t just intend to cross eighty miles on foot in one day, that’s silly. But however good your planning is, however excellent your sense of direction is, you will always take…”
Tsubasa started writing out a lengthy mathematical equation, and Erika waved her hands frantically. “We get it!” she said quickly. “It takes too long. So that leaves two paths, right?”
“I… think so,” Roland said, watching both Muirrach and Tsubasa cautiously. He’d already had two of his expected possibilities easily shot down by them.
“Don’t worry, two’s right,” Tsubasa said, laughing at Roland’s expression. “I don’t see too much of a difference in expected time of travel, either. We could pick whatever we want.” She and Roland looked to Muirrach for confirmation.
“Northeast might be slightly better than due north,” Muirrach said. “If we can catch the First Ferry, that would speed us along nicely.”
“But if we can’t, we’re stuck with the Fourth Ferry,” Tsubasa said. “Which doesn’t hold us back too much, but —”
“Wait, why does missing the First leave you with the Fourth?” Enrique asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Only ‘F’ numbers for the Ferry,” Tsubasa said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, we could try to swing it. I think we should…” she paused a moment, yawning hugely, stretching her arms overhead. “Oh, wow. Yup. We should definitely sleep on it.”
“But it’s morning,” Erika said.
“And we,” Tsubasa said, pointing to herself and Roland, “just got back from a massive adventure that took all night and did not involve a single second of sleeping. We have catching up to do.”
“Oh,” Erika said, then nodded twice. “Yes, that makes sense. And you two both look like you could use a bath, as well.”
“What do you expect from sweating our way up a dusty, ashen volcano?” Tsubasa asked, laughing. “But that’s a great idea. I’m gonna clean up right away, then. I always sleep better after a bath.” She hopped up and headed out, humming a cheerful tune.
“Guess the discussion’s over,” Enrique said, looking rather disappointed at the suddenness of it.
“We need clear heads and time to decide on the best path forward,” Roland said. “And I really do need some sleep. I won’t be much use to any of you if I don’t get to bed soon. But once we’ve recovered and we’re all ready, we do have one more stop to make before we leave the Mount Fuarain region.”
“One more…” Enrique started, then his eyes widened. “Oh! We’re going to tour one of the geothermal power plants!”
“That’s right,” Roland said. “And while I’m loathe to abuse my status, I think just this once, it might be worthwhile. I should be able to get us into the main power plant, and get the VIP tour. We’ll learn far more that way.”
“That sounds fantastic,” Enrique said, his small smile not fooling anyone about his excitement level. His eyes were positively glowing.
The group dispersed, then — Muirrach and the twins went down for breakfast, while Roland took a bath and dressed in clean clothes, turning in his dirty clothes to the inn’s laundry service. Returning to the suite feeling wonderfully refreshed — but also like he was on his very last legs before sleep claimed him — he was surprised to see Muirrach sitting once more by the balcony, a book in hand.
“Tsubasa’s already fast asleep,” Muirrach said. “And the twins decided to try and go back to sleep. Erika had some idea that it would be beneficial to try and match yours and Tsubasa’s ‘wave lengths’ or some such.”
Roland chuckled. “I see,” he said.
And then he paused.
He remembered his trial in the Canon. The visions that Jurall had shown him in the heat haze. What could have been. What might have been.
What would never be.
“I’m sorry,” Roland said, before he could stop the words from leaving him. He bowed his head. “If I hadn’t left for six years… if it weren’t for me, then —”
“It’s not your fault that Eilidh left,” Muirrach said. Roland’s head snapped up, and he caught the sorrowful — and forgiving — look in Muirrach’s huge, glistening eyes. “This was… a long time coming. She’s gone somewhere that I cannot follow.” He shook his head at Roland’s expression. “Not like that. She’s very much alive. Hale and hearty. Just… where I cannot go. One day, though… we will see each other again. When that time comes, I hope that we can move forward together.”
“Muirrach… I…” Roland started, unable to decipher the story behind Muirrach’s words. “If I can help you, in any way —”
“I appreciate that,” Muirrach said. He fixed Roland with a level, unreadable look. “You should sleep. There’s quite a lot ahead of us.”
“Yes,” Roland said. “Yes, of course. Good… well, not night.”
“Good morning,” Muirrach said, and his broad mouth turned up in a slight smirk.
Roland smiled back. “Good morning.”
Roland was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. In his sleep, though, dreams were fervent and active. Drums, drums, over and over again, the drums of Jurall’s Canon, the drums that constantly underscored his song. And in the midst of them, Shureen’s song, and Vi’s, and Kirin’s, the three of them seeming to be telling Jurall to be quiet, to let Roland sleep. Were they dreams after all, or…?
Roland finally woke feeling very much not well-rested. It was only when he opened his bleary eyes that the drums stopped beating in his mind, and searching inwardly, he felt the distant laughter of Jurall, and the admonishments from the other three Fantasians.
Are you really so childish?
“I thought you had a stronger will than that, little Summoner.”
Roland groaned. This was going to be a very long road to mutual understanding and acceptance, wasn’t it?
He did manage to fall asleep again, and before he did, he hummed softly Kirin, Vi, and Shureen’s songs, like a shield to protect him as he slept.
And he slept in perfect peace.
He was only partially surprised to find that, when he woke next, it was morning once more. After all he’d been through — not just the climb and the Canon and the discussion afterwards, but the very full day of traveling and exploring the town before that — it was no wonder he could sleep an entire day’s and night’s worth.
Rested and refreshed, he prayed, did his morning stretches, washed his face, and joined the others, who were all wide awake, in the suite’s sitting room. They went down to breakfast together, and then briefly looked over shuttle schedules to the main geothermal power plant. Enrique pored over a diagram of “the rig,” as the workers called the power plants, fascinated by every little detail and constantly pointing at different areas and asking, “Will we get to go there? How about there?”
By the end of breakfast, everyone was shooting glances at Roland as they whispered and muttered to each other. When their group went to pay for their suite and meals, the innkeeper insisted that it was on the house, and when Roland tried his hardest to pay anyway, the manager came out and made it very clear that it would be the height of disrespect to the Lord of the First Quartet to accept payment from a conquering Summoner, and at that point, Roland was perfectly happy to leave without paying.
All through the streets, that same phrasing kept going around: “the conquering Summoner.” Somewhere along the line the desire to just be called “Summoner” had gotten mixed in with the people’s tradition of calling him the “conqueror,” and Roland really couldn’t stand it.
“It’s what you should be, little Summoner, if you had done things properly.”
I told you very clearly I would not. And you very clearly accepted my version of strength.
Jurall didn’t have anything clever to say to that.
They were given a special shuttle just for them to the main power plant, by which point Roland was entirely regretting the decision to remain in this region one second longer than was necessary. But he had promised Enrique they’d tour a power plant, and the excitement written all over Enrique’s face was all the convincing Roland needed to soldier on.
It wasn’t long before the main “rig” loomed before them. A towering construction of suspended catwalks, long boom-and-crane arms, and crystalline processing cells, the air around it flickered and sparked — signs of the harmonic energy shield at work, protecting from the intense heat and the occasional debris that rained down from the distant volcano. Their shuttle passed through the main gate, a metal archway in the shield itself, the only point of entry or exit. This was a necessity to maintain the integrity of the energy shield itself, but also served as a convenient security measure.
The power plant’s foreman, Maestro Alberich Daenlech, greeted their group right at the base of the central control tower. “Welcome!” he said in a booming, jovial voice. His whole body was like red-brown rock come to life, given a strange softness in places, especially around his mouth and eyes, a mouth that was set in a broad grin, eyes that glittered like liquefied precious gems. “It’s a joy to welcome the Summoner to Rig One, along with your band of merry companions. I hear you’re wanting the VIP tour, eh?” His eyes twinkled at Roland.
“Yes, please,” Roland said, smiling. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of such contagious cheer.
“Well then, come on up, come on up!” Maestro Alberich led them inside the main control tower. The entrance room was paneled in soft red, the centerpiece being a long desk where several men and women were going over diagrams and organizing reports. Before Alberich could take them further, however, a man came in from a side door and hurried to his side.
“Maestro, sir, there’s an irregularity in Chamber Ceithir,” the man said in a reedy, nervous voice.
“And it was supposed to be corrected last week!” Alberich boomed — yet somehow, even his commanding rebuke was strangely jovial. There was no taking the smile out of him. “How much is it? Thirteen percent, still?”
“Four percent, Maestro, but —”
“At least it’s going down,” Alberich said. He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ll take a look at it personally when we get to that point in the tour, eh? Meet me there, with all pertinent information.”
“Aye, maestro.” The man hurried off, looking much less stressed than he had before he’d entered the room.
“Trouble?” Muirrach asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Alberich said, smiling at him, “despite what the word ‘irregularity’ would suggest. Ha!” He let out that one booming bark of a laugh, as if that was a regular thing for him, and then turned on his heavy feet and started towards the far door. “Come along, friends. Let me show you how we do things at Rig One!”
They headed up the stairs through several offices and control rooms, full of computerized consoles and symphonic communication devices. They paused on the third level to see how the crane arms were controlled, and then stepped out onto a catwalk where they could watch the crane arm at work. It still started several levels higher up above them, but then extended down, down, down, its elegant, lithe construction ending in a spiraling “hand.”
“That’s a symphonic amplifier,” Tsubasa said, gazing in awe. “A brand new model?”
“Aye, we just updated every rig’s amplifiers three months ago,” Alberich said proudly. “These are the newest models from Keyarch’s greatest technicians. Still not in public circulation yet. We try to stay ahead of the curve here in Fuarain. Now, watch closely.” The crane arm touched a metallic base in the ground, a set of four short pylons around a circular platform, about three feet off the rocky floor. On contact, the spiraling hand spun up, whirring with a strangely beautiful musical tone. The four pylons sparked with energy, and that sparking green current fed into a cylinder above the hand of the crane, which glowed with light.
“The amplifiers use sound waves to locate, contain, and direct thermal energy up through symphonic currents,” Alberich said, beaming. “It’s still just revving up, but watch in a moment… here it comes!”
The cylinder atop the crane’s hand suddenly glowed much brighter, and then a moment later, motes of green light started emitting from it, floating along the air, like fairies dancing to an unheard song. They drifted beneath the catwalk the group stood on, which was cleverly designed so that they could see down through the floor, watching the motes of light collect at a spherical crystal structure.
“That’s one of our nine crystal chambers,” Alberich said. “They collect the thermal energy, process it into usable energy, and then we can transfer that energy into crystal battery cells, or send them along power lines underground to the city.”
“Amazing,” Enrique said, gazing wide-eyed through the floor.
“But apparently there’s an irregularity in one of the chambers?” Roland asked. “Are we going there now?”
“We can, if you like,” Alberich said. “Though we’ll end up backtracking to see everything.”
“If there’s a more efficient path for the tour, let’s take that,” Tsubasa said. “No need to rush, right?”
Alberich nodded happily. “Aye.”
So they headed up three more levels, getting the run down on computer consoles, crane controls, and even getting to see a crystal battery cell being given energy for the first time, its crystalline casing coming to life with a beautiful green glow.
It was up on the tenth level, the highest height of the rig, as they stepped out onto that catwalk, that Tsubasa nudged Roland. She motioned subtly to hang back, so they let Alberich and the twins start forward, while the two of them and Muirrach waited a beat.
“Something feels off,” Tsubasa said, a darting, wary look in her eyes. “I’m not sure what, yet. I don’t think anyone else knows, either.”
“What kind of danger?” Muirrach asked.
“I think we’re in for a fight,” Tsubasa said. Her fingers brushed against her sheathed tonfas. “Just keep an eye out. Be ready.” She set her gaze on the twins, and then started towards them.
Could the Masks have found us here? But how could we be attacked on the rig? There’s only one way in or out, and everyone’s checked at the gate.
Roland stayed wary, though, as he and the others strode leisurely across the catwalk, taking in Alberich’s fielding of Enrique’s questions.
When they reached the middle of the catwalk, as far away as possible from any point of escape, the hum of a crystal gauntlet superheating its core made Roland spin around, on the defensive. There, atop the crane arm high above them, was Eagle Mask, the woman they’d fought off twice before. She was aiming her gauntlet straight at Roland.
And she wasn’t alone.
Atop other crane arms, atop control towers, and posted at the exits, were a total of at least two dozen more Masks, gauntlets primed to fire.
And they weren’t in a talking mood, either. Eagle Mask let loose a shot. Roland was ready, though, already humming Shureen’s song for defense, when…
His ear started ringing. And though he sang the song, the melody was wrong. Warped, somehow. Shureen wouldn’t answer his call.
Tsubasa leapt in the way just in time, blocking the blast meant for Roland, and three more, two of which she sent right back at their owners, blasting them off of their high perches to plummet to the ground so far below.
Roland felt sick to his stomach. He tried to sing again, but there was that ringing in his ears, and the notes came out wrong, warped. That ringing, it was… strange. Like a bell, or a whistle, or…
“There’ll be none of that now, Roland,” came a woman’s voice. Roland’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes went wide. Slowly he turned, dread pooling in his stomach.
There, on the far side of the catwalk, stood a frog woman with smooth, rippling blue skin so like her brother’s. Her eyes shone with whimsical light. She wore a dark dress, black, a color Roland had never seen her wear. And emblazoned on the left breast was a symbol.
A black butterfly, with a hooked Z in the center.
Roland and Muirrach asked the question at the same time, equally breathless: “Eilidh…?”