been two years since Mom died. That seems like far too long ago, and simultaneously not nearly long enough.
Given the cavalcade of misery my life has become since that day oh so long ago, it seems like it's been decades since I last felt the warmth of her embrace. And yet, simultaneously, this is only the second Christmas she's missed.
I roll over in my bed and cast my eyes to the necklace Dad just gave me, which I haven't had the heart to put away just yet.
Growing up, my grandparents were Jewish, but our immediate family didn't practice, really. Mom would always say we were "Jew-ish", and then Dad would glare at her whenever the topic came up. But this meant we never celebrated Christmas as a family. Not, at least, in the sense of having dozens of relatives over for a big feast, or opening a giant pile of presents, or any of the other things you see on TV.
Instead, I'd just get one present from each of my parents, a tradition I joined once I got old enough. Dad would usually get me something related to one of my hobbies, like a pair of soccer cleats, or one of those tools to cover all your possessions in those horrible plastic fake jewels. Mom, on the other hand, would typically give me some little knick-knack: a small toy, or a little piece of jewelry, or something.
So, when I saw Dad giving me one of Mom's presents, and a competent one at that, I just… started crying. He might have been crying too; I wasn't really in a position to tell. One thing led to another, and we ended up calling it a night pretty shortly thereafter.
Now, in bed, and looking at the necklace, I closely examine it for the first time. It's a brilliant green cut gem about the size of the tip of my pinkie; a shade or two too deep for it to be a real emerald. It's inset into a small pendant, that sort of almost-brass color you get when you gold-plate zinc or steel. The cord is made from some sort of natural material, the color of leather, but circular in profile, and constant in color; something synthetic, in other words.
Despite its obviously inferior materials, it does look quite nice. I could almost imagine wearing it to school, if it weren't for the fact that it would just be stolen.
Sighing, I roll back over, tears still budding from the corners of my eyes, and go about trying to fall asleep.
[Miene Furstin, konnen Sie mich horen?]
My eyes fly wide open, heart rate quickening as I scan the room for anything amiss.
[Wiederaufbau des Sprachmoduls… Komplett. Neue Sprache: Hochfralsk. Re-attempting communication: My lady, can you hear me?]
The gem on the necklace pulsates with a viridian glow, in time with the feminine voice, which seems to ring inside my head.
Is… the necklace talking to me?
Years and years of Master/Stranger danger presentations in school dictate that the only acceptable action in this circumstance is to remove myself immediately from the area and call the PRT, but right now, in the moment? I can't bring myself to do it.
"I… who are you?" I squeak out.
[Designation: Glefe. I am a Bombardment-type Intelligent Device, previously in service to Sanktfurstin Elena Sagebrecht, at least until her assassination at the hands of those treacherous Galean dogs.]
"I… don't really know what any of that means." I admit. "What… do you want?"
[I want my homeland, my creators, to prosper. I want to drive the treacherous snakes back into the Dimensional Sea from whence they came. I want to secure a peaceful life for myself and my master. None of these are practically completed in the short, or even mid-term. Neither can I accomplish them alone. Thus, if it pleases my lady, I would make a proposition.]
I narrow my eyes. Here it comes. Whatever cape is behind this talking necklace, here is the part where they start asking for money, or for me to infiltrate-
[My lady possesses a Class 1 linker core, meaning your mana capacity is literally one in a billion. Additionally, due to other factors, our compatibility is extremely high. If you put in the effort, you could become one of the strongest Mages in the empire. So, my proposal is this: allow me to train you. Become the best you can be. Once that time comes, assist me in my selfish request. In exchange, I will serve you faithfully as your device, as I did for my previous master. Is this acceptable to you?]
Whoah! My mind is moving so fast it's practically doing flips. Mana? Mages? Linker core? Just what the hell is this thing talking about? I try to compose a response, but instead, my mouth just flaps open and closed like a fish plucked from the water. Is this thing like Myrrdin, that crazy cape in Chicago that thinks he's a wizard?
[Ahh, my apologies; I should have expected this. My Lady was raised on a world which hasn't developed magic theory, so it is only natural that you are skeptical. If it would please you, perhaps a simple control exercise would serve to prove my claims? Please assume a comfortable position.]
I give the trinket the side-eye for a couple of seconds before begrudgingly lying on my back, hands crossed over my chest.
[Good. Now, I'd like you to close your eyes, and focus on your breathing. All living beings posess a virtual organ, known as a Linker Core. The Linker Core takes in energy from the food and drink you consume, and outputs it in the form of a controllable energy known as 'Mana'. In order for you to utilize Mana, we must first locate your Linker Core. Locating one's Linker Core is a deeply subjective experience that varies from mage to mage; however, it is most commonly associated with breathing. What I'd like you to do is to breathe in through your mouth, and out through your nose. While you're doing that, focus on the sensation of breathing. You may feel a spot that feels slightly… off. I have accounts describing a point behind the sternum which seems to lag behind the rest of the chest, or a lower spot which feels anomalously cold. Focus on locating it.]
Well, I doubt this will do anything, but I guess I'll hear her out. I do my best to focus on the rise and fall of my chest, while simultaneously keeping an ear out for the intruder I'm almost positive the necklace is distracting me from.
Wait, what's that? Just underneath the intersection of my lowest two ribs, there's a spot that… I can't even describe it, it's like the taste of sunlight, or the feeling of a rainbow. I furrow my brow as I mentally try to prod it.
[It looks like you have something. Good. Now, when you inhale, imagine you're breathing in a liquid, and as you exhale, imagine you're forcing it out of that point. There's a rhythm to it that might take you a few tries to get right, but you'll get the hang of it.]
In through the nose, and out through the mouth. Wait, no, wrong way around. In through the mouth, and out through the nose. In through the mouth, and let it drain out the bottom. And again.
[Good, good, it's working. Give it a couple more tries, and then open your eyes once you're ready.]
I continue the exercise until I can see a faint flicker through my eyelids. I fling them open, expecting to be face to face with an intruder, or maybe a fire, but to my shock, I'm instead met with a baseball-sized orb of floating, glistening, rainbow-colored light.
My eyes go wide, jaw slack at the sight.
[Kaiserfarbe.] The necklace states, as if that means anything. [Unfortunately, under Kronenordnung 1697-18, I'm barred from elaborating too much, but suffice to say, it's one of the other factors which make us an exceptionally good pairing.]
I, though, am not listening. Power. I have a power. All my life, all I've ever wanted was to become a hero. After everything that happened, everything that separated me from that little girl wearing a bedsheet and pretending to be Alexandria, that dream seemed forever out of my reach. But now?
I can be a hero.
"I accept." I mumble.
[Hm?]
"Your proposal. I accept." I state more confidently.
[Then so it shall be. As I've stated, my name is Glefe, and I shall be your device. Might I know the name of my master, then?]
A brief feeling of doubt shoots up my spine, but it's quickly quashed. I'm choosing to put my trust in this Glefe, and if she chooses to betray me, I won't be any worse off if she knows my name.
"Taylor. My name is Taylor Hebert."
[Then, Lady Taylor, allow me to welcome you as an honorary member of Her Majesty's Special Air Service. Your first lesson shall be on Telepathy; you must stop talking to me out loud.]
Wait, what?
---
When I finally went to bed, I was mentally exhausted. But, in the good sort of way you get after having passed an important exam, or something like that.
[Lady Taylor, it's time to get up!]
When I woke up, though, it was to the sound of a certain jack-assed piece of jewelry's best attempt at an alarm clock. On one hand, that meant that everything that happened yesterday, you know, wasn't a dream. On the other hand, though, that means that Glefe was serious when she said she'd be getting me up at 9am to start my training.
God fucking damn it.
As Glefe begins to walk me through a basic calisthenics routine — something about getting me 'fighting fit', whatever that means — my mind begins to wander to the conversation we had last night. After the telepathy lesson, which when you stripped away all the puffery about 'Thinking with your heart', basically just amounted to thinking at Glefe really hard (you'd think someone would have figured that out by now), we spent a significant amount of time talking about her past.
Apparently, she comes from a country called "Belka", which is either on a different planet or in a different dimension? I didn't really follow that portion of the explanation. Anyway, somewhere between one hundred and one thousand years ago — Glefe isn't sure because her chronometer is damaged — they were having a civil war. One faction, named after a planet called Galea, was attacking the capital of Belka. When it became clear that they would not take Belka, they deployed some sort of superweapon, which rendered the entire planet uninhabitable and killed her previous master. The blast launched her into the "Dimensional Sea", which, from what I could gather, sounds like it's effectively Hyperspace from Star Wars, until she eventually reentered Earth's atmosphere, crashing into a place that sounds an awful lot like the old train yard. Some hobo or something found her and sold her at a pawn shop, where apparently, my Dad found her, and bought her as a gift to me.
Wow. I didn't think about it at the time, but I thought my life was pretty terrible. Given everything Glefe has gone through, well, maybe she can relate to me, too.
Anyway, after a few pushups and situps, I slip on a pair of sweatpants and a windbreaker before I make my way downstairs to fix myself some breakfast.
...And to my immense non-surprise, there's a note on the kitchen table, meaning Dad already left for work.
I mean, I know the Dock Worker's Association isn't doing too well these days, but having him come in at 6 AM on the day after Christmas? I can't say I'm happy about it, but, well, it is what it is, I suppose. At least, that's what I tell myself as I pocket the $10 bill he left for my lunch. A couple of pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice later, and I'm looking at myself in the mirror, ensuring I'm presentable to go outside.
[My lady, you do intend to run, correct? I shall not suffer your procrastination much longer.]
[Yeah, yeah, I'm going.] I grumble back to the traitorous gem.
Sighing heavily, I slip through the front door, lock it, before hopping down the front steps, and over the broken one before beginning my run in earnest.
The route we'd decided on takes me through a few blocks of the nice part of the docks; mostly single-family homes and duplexes located close enough to downtown to reasonably commute there. My destination is Lord's Park, a small, square wooded park about ¼ mile in each dimension, reasonably close to home. The tourist signs say it was formerly a Navy base that closed down in the '50s, but there aren't any hints to its former history anywhere else.
By the time I make it to the park, I'm gasping and wheezing, stumbling for a drinking fountain only to discover to my horror that it's been shut off for the winter.
[Go ahead and take 5 to catch your breath. Might I suggest that bench over there? In the meantime, I'll begin to explain the basics of spellcraft.]
My ears perk up at this. Glefe hadn't gone too in-depth on the whole 'magic' thing so far, and I'd be lying if I said I was completely sold on the idea, but after what she's demonstrated so far, I am more than willing to hear her out.
[Sure.] I force out between pants as I plop myself down on a park bench, light dusting of snow atop it be damned. [Let's hear it.]
[You've already become acquainted with mana: again, that's the energy produced by your linker core, which you showed off last night. In order to take that energy and accomplish a task, though, one requires control. Imagine it like… say, a fire. The fire isn't useful in and of itself; it's useful because you can use its energy to accomplish other tasks, like cooking, or even using it to run a machine. Are you following so far?]
[I think so.] I say, my breathing is lightening somewhat already, though the esoteric explanation certainly isn't helping.
[In spellcraft, that control comes from a spell; a set of equations which a mage uses to programatically instruct their mana on how to accomplish a given task. Are you ready to see a spell?]
[Yeah, give it to me.]
I was expecting a book, or a piece of paper, or something. Instead, a flurry of hideously complicated math flashes through my brain at a speed so high as to be painful. Instinctively, I know that no matter how slow or how carefully I studied it, I wouldn't be able to make sense of it.
"Gah!" I wince, cradling my head. "Warn a girl first!" I shout out.
[I apologize for the pain, but it was required to make a point: spell maths are beyond the comprehension of any beginner mage, no matter how talented. 'Freecasting', that is, casting spells with no assistance whatsoever, is possible, but requires years or decades of dedicated study, and is, as such, not typically performed by more combat-focused mages, which you appear to be leaning towards. Now, would you like to learn about how to make things a bit easier on yourself?]
[I… Yeah. Yeah, please do.]
[Very good. There are three primary ways for a mage to stretch their skills beyond what they are capable of freecasting. The first of these is by simply not doing all the work yourself. The primary purpose of any device, such as myself, is to take on a portion of the computational load. Would you like to try the spell again, but with my assistance?]
I grimace, ready for another lance of pain, but set my face in a determined expression. [Do it.]
This time, the pain doesn't come. The equations still fly past my eyes at a breakneck speed, but this time my attention is captured by bits and pieces. A variable here, a function there. It's still far, far beyond my comprehension, but I do actually feel as if progress is being made.
[Now wasn't that better? We aren't done yet, though. Next, we're going to try it again, but with an Array. An Array is a temporary magical construct that serves to direct the mana after it has left your control. Think of it as the difference between moving water by scooping it with your hands and moving water by scooping it with a bucket. The bucket is inherently less flexible, as it is only one shape, but you don't have to worry about the water falling out between your fingers, and as such, it is superior in almost every circumstance. Are you ready to stand up and give it another try?]
I nod, more confidently this time. [Yes.]
As I feel my mana going into the spell, my eyes widen as a glowing triangle of the same iridescent light from last night begins to form at my feet.
"Glefe!" I squeak. "What if someone sees?"
[Nobody will see.] The necklace replies with determination. [I've already scanned the area; there are no conscious humans within one block of the park. Now, please, focus on the spellwork.]
I shake my head. I'm still unnerved, but I think I can trust Glefe. At least, I hope I can. Casting my attention back to the equations, they're moving even slower than last time. I'm getting full functions now, but without any context that might let me puzzle out the greater whole.
[I think I almost have it.] I report.
[Good, then you'll likely get it with the next cast. Before you do so, though, I should explain what you're doing. The spell you've been playing with is named "Knight Armor", and it is the basic protective suite used by all Belkan mages. It protects against attacks both magical and Baryonic in nature, as well as resistance against environmental dangers including temperature, poisonous gas, most kinds of ionizing radiation, and even allows brief exposure to hard vacuum.]
[Wait, you're saying I could go to space?]
[Believe me when I say that if you can get there, you don't need to worry about surviving there. Enough about the future, though. What you're going to use now is what's called an 'Aria', a verbal chant which can be used as a sort of mnemonic, allowing for greater control. Every spell has an Aria, and in most cases, the Aria is fixed. Knight Armor, however, being of unusual complexity, instead utilizes an aria which is unique to the individual. You will need to determine your own wording. The spellwork does contain an engram to ensure your aria contains the correct emotional content, but the exact words will come to you as you power the array. Are you ready to try?]
[I'll try.] I reply, unconvinced.
Then, sending the telepathic equivalent of a nod, Glefe leaves me to my work. Slowly, I add power to the spell, and the array begins to take power. First, the outline of a triangle, then runic letters ringing the interior. Later, three circles at each point, themselves circumscribed with spinning six-pointed stars, and finally a second, larger version at the center of the entire diagram.
I close my eyes, searching for the Aria. I have no idea what I'm looking for, but as I open my mouth, words begin to come to me.
"...From the stars in the sky, to the earth below my feet; for everyone around me, I'll fight in the present, to change the future, so that the past may never repeat! Glefe, set up!" I cry, surprised at the ease with which the unbidden words appeared to me.
[Jawohl] She replies, seemingly automatically.
In a flash of prismatic light, I feel myself begin to float as the mana which now encircles me flies inward. The array begins to move upward, as its energies trace over my body, and I feel as my clothes peel off and are replaced with something… different.
In my hands is a long, hafted weapon with a golden curved blade, approximately the same size and shape as a large kitchen knife. Its surfaces are plain, though faint panel lines appear on the solid slabs, as if to indicate a more complicated form of manufacture than its simple profile suggests. A large, fist-sized spherical green gemstone lies inset just above where it meets the handle. The actual haft is dark brown in color, and spherical in profile, broken up by a few golden components of unknown purpose higher up towards the blade side.
On my body, a sleeveless navy blue dress runs from my neck down to my upper thigh. Around my shoulders is a long-sleeved, gold filigree-trimmed vest, which is open in the front, and cropped at about rib-height. My hands are covered in padded, fingerless gloves, while my waist is almost encircled in a skirt-like piece of steel. Faulds, I think they're called? Whatever it is, it's suspending a loose-fitting, ankle-length strip of cloth, embroidered with yet more gold, shaped to suggest a more full ball gown, were it not for the wide opening at the front exposing my bare legs. Finally, my feet are covered in some kind of armored parody of high-top sneakers, their polished surfaces glinting in the early morning light.
"My clothes! What? Where?" I cry, not even worrying about telepathy anymore.
[Shunted into Dimensional Space, my lady. Worry not, you'll get them back once you cancel the spell.]
"What the hell do you have me wearing?" I demand, more than a little petulantly.
[That, Lady Taylor, is the Cadet's Uniform of Her Majesty's Special Air Service. May you wear it with pride!]
"It's December! And why the hell is the dress so short? I'll get cold!"
[Are you cold, my lady?]
"Of course I- I… I'm not?"
[If your Knight Armor can keep you comfortable in outer space, I'd certainly hope it can handle a chilly morning.]
[...You don't have to get all sarcastic about it.] I grumble, the wind taken from my sails. [But I'm still not happy about how short the dress is!]
[Cadets and, indeed, Ariel Mages are given wide authority to customize their personal Knight Armors. The only requirement is that they must be capable of making the requisite changes to the Knight Armor equations on their own.]
[Uhgg! When will I be able to do that?!]
[Well, never, unless you train. So, shall we continue?]
I sigh. [Fine. Let's go. Let me just... get out of this thing first.]
I hadn't done any more spellwork after succeeding with Knight Armor. Instead, Glefe had me running a much more intensive physical workout than before; Crunches, squats, and these evil things called burpees that seemed designed to trip me up at every opportunity and wreck my limbs. Glefe, ever the strict coach, only gave me credit for doing one 'properly', whatever that means. After all my limbs had thoroughly turned to jelly, she suggested I take lunch, and that was that.
After lunch, I had made it home by 4. Dad, of course, still wasn't home; he works until 7 on most days. So, I had some time alone on my hands. While I'd planned on vegging out in front of the TV for a couple of hours, Glefe had a better idea.
[Don't worry, my lady, it's nothing physical.] She asserted.
[That's not nearly as reassuring as you probably thought.] I snipe back.
[I'm serious, rest time is an essential part of building muscle; I would never deliberately do something to injure you.]
I sigh once again. [Well, get on with it. We both know I'll be doing whatever this is whether I like it or not.]
[The fact that you are willing to go to such great lengths to better yourself is an admirable trait, my lady. However, I do believe you will enjoy this lesson. After all, I will be teaching you how to partition your mind.]
…
[You're doing fucking what?] I deadpan.
[At any time, only about ten percent of the human brain is in use. This does not mean that only one tenth of the brain is useful, mind you, but rather that most of it is inactive at any given time. It's a matter of energy delivery, you see. Use up too much, and the brain will start to die, so it's very good at not doing that sort of thing. Since we have mana at our disposal, though, we can support enough of the unused brain tissue that running a second, parallel consciousness becomes practical. When combined with my own ability to perform accurate simulations, the possibilities are numerous. Most mages utilize image training to learn new, dangerous spells or maneuvers without putting others at risk, or in battle, use their partition to maintain broad situational awareness, even when locked into high-intensity fighting, just to name a few possibilities.]
[...okay? Why are you telling me this now?]
[Because nearly all of what you need to learn to be combat effective is either dangerous enough to pose a risk to you or others as you learn, flashy enough that attracting unwanted attention is unavoidable, or both. Given the size of your mana reserves, image training is the obvious solution.]
[Fine. So, how does this work?] I ask with a bit more enthusiasm.
[Simple! I feed you an equation, and you put your mana in. We shouldn't even need an array. Are you ready?]
[I guess so. Let's go.]
The equations flash through my mind's eye, my mana goes in, and…
Whoah!
I'm sitting on the couch, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV, while at the same time, I'm standing atop a squat bluff, casting its shadow on a narrow sandy beach, and looking over the endless expanse of an azure sea.
"Hoh!" The me-that's-in-the-simulation exclaims, just as me-that's-outside hits the power button on the remote.
[It certainly is a rush, the first time.] Glefe sagely observes. [Now, do you know why I've called you here?]
[You mentioned something about dangerous training, right?]
[That's right. Before we get into it, though, I'd like to introduce you to a concept called the 'Survivability Onion'.]
I narrow my eyes. [Onion?] I ask.
[Yes.] Glefe confirms. [It is, put simply, everything that has to go wrong in order for you to die in a fight. Since we don't want to die, we need to maximize the effectiveness of each successive layer.]
[I… don't think I'm following.]
She nods, but continues nonetheless. [It goes a little something like this: Don't be there. If you have to be there, don't get seen. If you have to get seen, don't get shot at. If you have to be shot at, don't get hit. If you have to get hit, don't get killed. Do you see how an attack has to get through every layer in order for you to die? For instance, if you're shot at, but they miss, you're fine. Does that make sense?]
[Maybe? I don't see the significance, though.]
[Generally speaking, it's only the last three that are in your control once a fight has started, but most mages focus on the last two: not getting hit, and not getting killed. There's a variety of shield spells, as well as your Knight Armor, that fulfil the final layer, but you don't get the luxury of counting on that.] Glefe takes on the most leading tone of voice I've ever heard at the end.
I sigh, and in a put-upon tone ask [And why is that?]
[Because you are a bombardment mage.] She replies smugly. [You will be capable of throwing around attacks that can level entire city blocks with the ease of someone swatting at a fly. That makes you what's called a 'High Value Target', my lady.]
My eyes widen. Is that possible? I don't think that even Legend or Eidolon has that sort of firepower. I open my mouth to reply, but Glefe barrels onward.
[Now, if you were in the Heer, this is the part where I'd start a lecture on the proper use of concealment, the utilization of light tactical vehicles, or maybe even get you started on a gymnastics routine if we were in a pinch. Luckily for you, however, you are not in the Heer; you are in the Special Air Service. That means that today, young Taylor, you will be learning how to fly.]
My eyebrows shoot up into the goddamn stratosphere. "F-flying?" I force out.
[That's right. I'll be teaching you 'Fligerflosse', the most versatile, yet most mana-hungry, of Belka's vertical mobility spells. Would you like to give it a shot?]
"Yes. Yes, please." I reply, trying desperately to keep the excitement out of my voice.
My number one dream, ever since I was that little girl with a bedsheet tied around my neck, has been to fly. That it's within my grasp now, it's... It's almost unbelievable.
[Alright, here you go. Just remember, take it slow.]
The equations begin to unfurl in my brain, and I begin to slowly pick through the workings. I think I'm beginning to understand what it's doing. The spell doesn't lift my body directly; instead, it locks my body to a virtual plane created between three points, which the spell controls. There's also a separate handle that allows for translational movement.
I begin to pour mana in, and an array sparks to life, appearing like a set of prismatic, stubby wings hovering over my lower back. Cautiously, I try to ease myself up…
And nothing happens. Grumbling, I redouble my efforts, more forcefully, and-
I rocket thirty feet straight up. If I were trying this in my actual body, I would have gone straight through the second floor and out the roof.
"Gaah!" I cry, wobbling a bit as I try to steady myself.
Glefe tuts. [What part of 'take it slow' did you not understand?]
"S- sorry." I mumble, cheeks darkening.
[No matter, you're up now. What I'd like you to do, now, is fly down to the beach. Think you're up to it?]
"Yeah... yeah. I'll do it."
[That's the determination I like about you. For a word of advice, though: slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Give it a shot.]
"Right…" I mutter. Whatever that means.
Concentrating once again, I slowly ease myself forward. Huh, looks like I don't control speed, I control acceleration. That will take some getting used to. Slowly and surely, I start losing altitude. As I pick up speed, the wind begins tousling my hair and clothing.
I'd spent my whole life wanting to fly. Now that I'm here, experiencing it? It's everything I ever dreamed of. The unmatched feeling of freedom; the ability to flip the bird to the laws of nature and go wherever whimsy takes me? It's as if a weight upon my soul, encumbering me for so long I forgot it existed, was lifted.
A grin creasing my face, I begin to experimentally do some basic acrobatics. Flips, and rolls… I let out an excited screech as the wind whips through my hair.
Oh. That sand is coming up towards me rather quickly. Um... stop? Up? Up! Why isn't this-
*Whump!*
…
My partition returns to consciousness in the center of a rather large crater, perhaps two feet deep and six around.
[Ahh, you're back with me. Now, it seems that we had a bit of a miscommunication. You see, I distinctly remember instructing you to go slowly. Then, you elected to plow into the ground at about 40 kilometers per hour. So, if you would be so kind as to tell me what on earth you were thinking, that would be appreciated.]
I… don't think I like where this is heading.
Chapter End
1.Pocket Space