Chapter 96

I stepped into my demesne and made my way to the library. Elise wasn’t there, which meant she was probably asleep somewhere. That was likely for the best - we had a long night ahead of us tomorrow.

I pulled down a book on Entropy magic, figuring that might be the closest human equivalent to shaping stone. If I was lucky, there’d be some trick - some little insight - that might stretch my mana just far enough to build the miles-long wall I had in mind.

From there I jumped disciplines. Entropy became Axiomancy. Axiomancy led to goblin elemental theory. That turned into dwarven stone-shaping techniques, then elven root songs, naga shedding currents, and finally the rhythmic patterns of orcish war-beats. Each culture looked at magic differently, but somewhere in the overlap I hoped to find something useful.

At some point Elise woke and joined me. Her help made the search far easier. She knew the library well enough to pull the practical manuals I needed instead of the dense theoretical nonsense.

Mirri stopped by midmorning with breakfast and made sure I hadn’t collapsed under a pile of books before heading back to the keep.

Serah appeared sometime after lunch. I spent nearly an hour grilling her about draconic earth magic before she finally escaped back to the children.

By dinner I’d learned everything I could without actually trying to raise the wall itself.

We sat down to eat and talk. The ferals had made it through the night unsupervised without incident - a miracle I was deeply grateful for.

Their growth had started to slow now that they were nearly full grown. Physically they looked like young adults - sixteen or seventeen, maybe. Over the last three days they’d lost the last of their baby teeth, replaced with two rows of sharp adult ones. Their nails had thickened into proper claws.

Their bodies were settling. Their minds were not.

They were still learning about the world, still dealing with emotions and instincts they didn’t fully understand. Hormones were hitting them like a freight train.

And despite their shared features - sunburnt skin, red irises, sharp teeth - they had become wildly different people.

Vel still held the top of the hierarchy.

Her copper hair - shared only with Thae - fell to her shoulder blades in thick waves no amount of brushing could tame. The color marked her unmistakably as my daughter. Her bright red eyes were ringed in dark circles that made them stand out even more.

She stood a little over six feet tall - level with Ashlara and an inch or two taller than me. Her build was athletic and powerful without being bulky, with modest curves and just enough softness left in her cheeks to hint at the child she’d been a few days ago.

Of all the ferals, Vel smiled the most. It still wasn’t often, but when she did, it was small and genuine.

Thae remained analytical, dominant, and fiercely independent. Only Vel and I could convince her to do something she didn’t want to do outright, though Ashlara, Mirri, and Serah could usually redirect her into something productive.

Like Vel, she had copper hair almost identical to mine, though a darker strip of fur ran along her spine to the base of her tail. Her eyes were the deepest shade of red among them - almost garnet.

She stood just under six feet tall and was was unmistakably draconic. Blood-red scales covered her body. When she’d first been born she had a pronounced muzzle like Serah’s, but as she matured her features had softened, becoming more human while still retaining their reptilian edge.

Her wings stretched nearly eight feet when extended. They were strong, though so far she could only glide rather than truly fly. Her tail was thick and muscular at the base, tapering to a narrow tip that barely brushed the ground. Her digitigrade legs and tilted hips let her walk upright in a way Serah’s body wasn’t built for.

Strangely, she had breasts but no nipples - another reminder that biology had taken a few creative liberties.

Tansy was still the most aggressive. She wasn’t the walking tornado she’d been earlier, but when she didn’t get her way she still yelled, stomped, and occasionally punched someone. At least now she usually pulled those punches.

She stood around five-foot-nine - tall for a woman and enormous for a goblin. Despite her parents, she looked mostly human. Her skin was pink and ruddy, her ears rounded, and her figure proportioned more like a human’s than a goblin’s exaggerated curves.

She’d tried to tear her hair out during a particularly bad tantrum, but Mirri had stepped in, calmed her down, and cut it short. It had already grown back to just below her ears. Her bangs kept falling into her eyes, so Mirri gave her a wooden butterfly barrette to hold them back. It was an unexpectedly cute, almost delicate touch. I made a point of complimenting it whenever I saw her.

Moss still chewed on anything she could get her hands on. Quill feathers, tree bark, scraps of leather - if it fit in her mouth, she’d try it. She also ate more than anyone else in the keep.

To help with that, Mirri introduced her to birch pitch. We had plenty of it in the region, and the hardened sap gave Moss something to chew on without constantly raiding the pantry.

Because of her appetite she’d developed the thickest build of the group.

At five-foot-five she was the shortest, but broad shoulders and wide hips gave her a powerful frame. She wasn’t fat - far from it. Her constant movement kept her lean and toned - but there was a solidity to her that the others lacked.

Her long dark hair was usually braided. Mirri had started doing it, but Brinja eventually took over when she realized Moss was one of the few ferals patient enough to sit through the process.

Clo had improved - slightly. She could now sit still for several minutes before the restlessness kicked in.

To help with that, I conjured a handful of fidget spinners for her. She loved them and carried one everywhere. With them she’d managed to stay seated for eleven minutes once - her current record.

Clo was lanky and about five-foot-seven. Small chest, narrow hips, long limbs. Her muscles were tight and wiry, built for running rather than lifting.

Her dark hair hung long and straight and somehow never fell into her face. She refused to sit still long enough for even a basic hair tie, but since it didn’t seem to bother her we mostly left it alone.

Then there was Nim.

He had grown into a giant. At nearly six-and-a-half feet he towered over the others - broad-shouldered and powerfully built. His dusky rose-colored eyes gave him a quiet, thoughtful look.

Of all the ferals, Nim was the most cooperative. He liked helping around the house and was the least aggressive by a wide margin. He was also the friendliest, though he almost never smiled.

Someone who didn’t know him might mistake him for a gentle giant.

That illusion lasted exactly until they saw him run down a deer and tear it apart with his bare hands.

He was the tallest and second strongest - Moss still held the title for pure brute strength - and he could easily defend himself against the girls. But most of the time he let them push him around. When he did finally draw a line, though, the girls learned very quickly not to cross it again.

* * *

At dinner I told the others about my meeting with Zelmyra - how she’d appeared out of nowhere and informed me that several gods had gone missing, though their Faith still seemed controlled. I skipped over most of her… behavior. It didn’t feel appropriate to bring that up in front of the children.

Mirri, however, already seemed predisposed against her. That struck me as odd. Mirri had never shown a hint of jealousy before, and goblin culture tended to be far more open about sex and multiple partners. Maybe it was just the part where Zelmyra stabbed me.

Once the dishes were cleared, we gathered everyone and went over the plan again.

Torvek was in charge.

The ferals were to behave.

And if anyone showed up while we were gone, everyone was to retreat to my demesne for safety. So far Vel was the only feral who could step there on her own, so the others would have to help out if it came to that.

A little later Elise arrived, and we all gathered outside the gate.

Serah shifted into her dragon form and we climbed onto her back. It might have been my imagination, but she seemed larger than before. I made a mental note to ask her about draconic aging someday.

With three powerful beats of her wings, Serah rose into the evening sky. She circled the keep once before turning west.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the clouds in deep oranges and pinks. Climbing as high as we did gave us a second sunset—no less breathtaking than the first.

Miles slipped past beneath us as we followed a route that was becoming familiar across the plains. The mountains remained to the north - the dwarven kingdom of Dumrath Kol-Varn. I’d need to visit them someday, if only to get to know our second-closest neighbors.

After a few hours the distant glow of orcish campfires came into view.

Three days ago they had been clustered along the western border, barely inside Arvellia. Now they had begun their march across the plains.

They had made good progress. Too good. In three days they had traveled what should have taken almost five. At that pace they’d reach the keep in less than two weeks.

Far to the south - maybe a day and a half away - another line of campfires burned.

The Arvellian army.

It looked like we’d arrived just in time.

Serah set us down about five miles northeast of the Iron Nation’s horde. Adhaneth flowed into the shape of a guitar in my hands. I strummed a few testing chords before settling on a song and letting the magic flow.

Granite and gneiss speared skyward in a jagged line across the plains, climbing ten feet high. It didn’t need to be pretty - it just needed to slow an army.

I managed nearly a thousand feet before my mana ran dry.

That’s when Elise stepped in. She began carefully destroying the Faith within Ashlara. I felt the air around us swell with raw mana, thick and electric. I tried to gather it, to pull it into myself and shape it.

It was messy work, like trying to scoop wet sand out of the surf with bare hands - half of it slipping through your fingers before you could carry it anywhere.

Still, I kept going. By the time Ashlara’s borrowed Faith ran out we’d raised almost a mile of wall.

Ashlara said the process felt strange - like a tingling across her skin, the hair on her arms standing on end. But there was no pain. If there had been, we would have stopped immediately. By the end she was just tired. A little weak, but otherwise fine.

Mirri went next. Her Faith carried the wall another mile.

Then Elise. Another mile of jagged stone stretched across the plain.

By then it was close to three in the morning. The moon had already set, and even the red-and-blue scar across the sky had dipped low on the horizon.

We had built more than three miles of wall.

Elise moved to draw from Serah’s Faith next, but stopped almost immediately.

Serah felt it. Not pain exactly, but discomfort - something deep in her soul. She insisted she could keep going, but the rest of us shut that down quickly. None of us were willing to risk her.

So we rested.

An hour later my mana had recovered somewhat, boosted by the thick ambient magic we’d created. I managed another thousand feet.

Ashlara, Mirri, and Elise had absorbed a little more Faith as well, enough to stretch the wall another couple thousand feet.

When we finally stopped, we’d raised more than four miles of stone between the two armies.

Impressive, but probably not enough. Any determined army could march around it in an hour or two.

We sat down with our backs against the wall, exhausted.

“Do you think it will be enough?” Elise asked quietly.

“Doubt it,” Ashlara replied.

“There he is,” whispered a voice. Low. Deep.

I snapped my head toward the sound. Nothing.

“What’s up?” Mirri asked, noticing my reaction.

“Did you hear that?”

They all glanced at each other and shook their heads.

“He’s soft,” another whisper said. This one deeper, vaguely feminine.

I scanned the darkness. Still nothing.

“You guys don’t hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Mirri said. “Ashie?”

Ashlara paused, listening, then shook her head.

“Elise?”

“I do not hear anything.”

“He only looks soft,” the whisper continued. “He’s harder than us.”

“Serah?” Mirri asked as I stood and walked around to the far side of the wall.

The others followed. No one there either.

“He’s coming this way. Should we leave?” one of the voices whispered nearby.

“Hello?” I called softly. “Who’s there?”

“I think he can hear us.”

“Yes,” I said. “I can hear you. Where are you?”

“What should we do?” “I’m scared.” “Why are you scared? He’s soft.” “He only looks soft.” The voices argued among themselves in hushed tones.

“You’re all cowards,” one voice snapped. “I’ll speak with the shaper.”

Pebbles clattered nearby.

Loose stones began to shift, gathering themselves into a small pile. Two thin rocks lifted a larger one like arms raising a head. Pebbles rolled together to form legs.

By the time it finished assembling, a tiny figure of stone stood before me - barely a foot tall.

I knelt beside it. “Hi,” I said gently. “What’s your name?”

“An elemental,” Mirri breathed behind me. “I’ve never seen one in the wild.”

“They are rare,” Serah added, “though they gather where mana is strong.”

The little stone figure tilted its uneven head. Its voice sounded like pebbles clicking together. “I am called Iolite.”

“That’s a nice name,” I said. “Do you live here?”

“We came because of the Earthpulse.”

“Is that from the wall?”

The little elemental pressed a rocky hand against the gneiss. “It is strong here.”

“Do you understand it?” Elise asked.

I glanced back at her. “You can’t?”

She shook her head.

I turned back to Iolite. “Sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t know you were here.”

“We weren’t,” he said simply. “We came because of the Earthpulse.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“For us?” he asked, tilting his head again.

“Yes,” I said. “You came here because of the Earthpulse. Do you need anything? Can I help you in any way?”

“You did not call us?”

“No,” I said. “I was just trying to raise this wall to stop two armies from fighting.”

“Raise the wall,” he repeated.

“Yeah. I ran out of mana before I finished it. I was hoping to go a few more miles.” I pointed west.

The little stone head followed my finger. “A few more miles,” he said. Then he collapsed.

The ground trembled. Mana surged through the earth as spears of stone erupted from the plains, racing westward in a perfectly straight line. The wall grew. Fast.

I broke into a jog to follow it.

Ashlara scooped Mirri onto her back and ran after me. After a mile Elise began to lag, so Serah shifted into dragon form and carried her.

Five miles later the stone stopped rising.

Pebbles rolled together again, forming the tiny shape of Iolite. “Enough?” he asked.

“Wow,” I breathed. “That was incredible. Thank you.”

“You called. We served.”

“If you ever need anything,” I said, “please tell me. I’d like to repay your kindness.”

Iolite tilted his little stone head. Then he fell apart again.

I stared at the wall stretching across the plains. “Wow,” I said again. “Next time I need a wall, remind me to ask an elemental.”