Last Words chapter 43 (Patreon)

Patterns. The name was innocuous. Just sounded like a neat little design you might scribble on a notebook. In fact, it was SO innocuous that I hadn’t really been able to conceptualize exactly what they could do until it was staring me in the face.

Now though, with a book in front of me describing all the various effects, it was hard not to geek out at what I was finally realizing I was looking at. Magic.

I know, I’d been doing basically magic for weeks, I’d taken potions, ingested magic fruits, etc. But it wasn’t the same. Skills were impressive and cool, but they were more like reality warping than magic. It wasn’t sorcery, it was…bullshit. Good bullshit, granted, but still just the sort of fiat nonsense you accepted without thinking about it too much. Like knowing planes fly but not knowing exactly how.

This though…this was just COOL. They were magic. Real spells that I could cast from my body directly. Not very often, mind, but still.

Which meant my choice of pattern was very important. Mostly because I was sure I could sell it and then buy it back later, which meant possibly giving it to some of my friends. I needed to figure out exactly what options I had. So I started going through the list, which was helpfully sorted into a variety of discrete subsections.

First, control. Bindings, large scale sleep and dizziness, area denial, even big shields. Most were plant based, with lots of things about roots and even a few neat parasitic growth abilities that could directly affect people.

Second, taming. Those apparently formed bonds with different kinds of animals, but you had to subdue the animal first. They were apparently popular with certain nobles because they acted as a force multiplier. The downside was that once you had an active bond, it apparently required a direct mana siphon to keep it active. It was a constant drain that essentially nullified your entire mana pool long term, acting like a continuous spell.

Third, attacks. Mostly along the lines of root spears, vine whips, exploding dandelion clouds, and various other entertaining but mostly inefficient sounding things.

Fourth, buffs. Defense, enhancement, and a few other semi neat possibilities, but most of them were more passive than I liked.

Honestly, I wasn’t vibing with Nature that much. I DID have a fire affinity, albeit not a strong one, so I could always get a fire pattern. I flipped through the book to find the fire section, checking out the options there.

Attacks and control were still a thing, as well as a few utility patterns. It was honestly enough to make my head spin. My lower fire affinity would mean I filled my pattern slower, but I could offset that by taking a pattern with a lower mana cost. Of course, since I had to completely refill the damned thing each time, it might make more sense to go with something big and flash and just about at my limit, netting me one use a day.

That actually helped narrow things down, I was at four point eight points per day at this point which meant I was looking at a five point pattern. That was actually in the upper middle tier of what was available, based on what I could tell, but I decided that rather than assume, it would be best to just ask. I turned to Alexa. “Ok, so…is there some sort of power ranking for spells at the first tier?”

She nodded. “Power rankings are the same across all tiers, though what exactly falls into what tier obviously varies. Spells are, in order, Novice, Journeyman, Expert, Master, and Grandmaster. At tier one, a novice spell is one mana, a journeyman is three, a master is five, and a grandmaster is ten. Grandmaster tier one spells are incredibly uncommon, because it takes ages to fill them, and if you have access to ten points of mana you’d just be better off being tier two.”

I nodded slowly. “Ok, so I’m interested in a Master spell. Do you have any suggestions for what pattern I want?”

“I would have more suggestions for what pattern you DON’T want,” she hedged. “If you’re planning to Braid your patterns, which I assume you are, you’ll need something that can be effectively combined with higher level spells. For Grandmaster spells, this is incredibly rare, which is another reason they’re uncommon. They tend to be big dramatic area spells, and while you can braid one spell with that relatively easily, it limits your range and makes long term growth difficult.

“Master spells have slightly less of a problem in that regard,” she clarified. “But it does still come up. You’ll want to avoid anything too absurd in terms of firepower. Utility and defense spells are often prized for that aspect of their use. Good development potential. If I might make a suggestion?” I nodded, gesturing to the book. She flipped through it, stopping at a spell.

I read over the description. “Barkskin?” I asked slowly. It was a little passive, like I’d thought earlier, but I wasn’t against it if it would be a good idea long term. It was a weaker version of a spell I’d already seen, though, which brought up an interesting point. “What about Stoneskin?”

“It’s an earth spell,” she said immediately. “Barkskin is the nature variant. It’s not as durable, but it actually heals you while you're inside it, or at least enhances regeneration. It is ALSO known to be highly modifiable. There are quite a few Braids available for that spell, and it’s considered an excellent pattern for anyone with enough patience to use it. As a Master spell, it’ll be available slightly less often, but each cast is a key strategic resource in battle.”

The more she talked, the better it sounded. Especially if I could give it to my friends like I hoped. Even if I couldn’t do it directly, once I got Bran up to Beginner, he would be able to apply the pattern, and I was about to get a firsthand look at the materials. Having a defensive spell for my people that could be heavily customized seemed like the definition of a win win. I nodded. “Alright. Barkskin it is. I want that one.”

She beamed at me. “Excellent choice. It’s a strong start to your journey, I promise.” She winked at me. “And it’s not cheap either, might as well get your money’s worth since it’s on credit.”

I might have felt bad about that, if she hadn’t all but told me that Esther was never going to have to actually pay for it. As it was, it would be a potential force multiplier, or at best a huge opportunity for my people once we got Bran trained up a bit.

I clapped my hands together, rubbing them for friction. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. How do we do this?”

Alexa snorted at my enthusiasm, but shook her head. “Master spells are beyond me, I’m afraid. My father will need to take care of this one. Luckily, he seems about finished with his daily existential crisis, and when he’s not having a pointless breakdown he’s actually pretty good at his job.”

She said that loud enough for the man to hear, and after another dramatic pronouncement of woe, his face smoothed out as he walked over to where we stood, taking the book from me. He hadn’t really been part of the conversation, mostly talking to himself at length about the cruelty of the world, so I guess he missed my choice. “Barkskin,” he said clinically. “Decent starting point. At least you know how to listen to good advice.”

I nodded agreeably, despite kind of wishing I’d picked something flashier. I could always get another one applied later, but considering what Alexa just said, I was guessing Bran wouldn’t be able to put this one on himself anyway, so going with this to start seemed like the best move.

“So…how does this work?” I asked as he escorted me back down the hallway, this time turning off into a different room and putting me in a much more comfortable chair that didn’t stab me or feel like it was alive. He had me sit in it backwards, then take off my shirt as he walked around to start pulling glass bottles off shelves. “I was told there’s like…reagents?”

He snorted. “Big word for a brat. Yes, there are reagents. Not many, at this level of pattern, but some.”

“Can you tell me what they are?” I asked warily. “I’m curious. Or is it some kind of secret?”

Rolling his eyes, he held up a bottle. “Dreamthorn sap,” he waggled another “Falcon fruit extract,” finally he held up a bottle of dark brown powder. “Ironbark root powder. This is where the main magical effect comes from. Ironbark trees have the densest bark among tier one plants. Mostly. There’s unique and mutated plants you run into sometimes that have denser or more magical bark, but it’s rarely as well balanced.”

“So, question,” I said slowly. “Did you make those, or buy them from alchemists?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You know,” he said conversationally. “You would be surprised how few people bother to ask that. They assume we buy our wares from the alchemy shops. And some do, but not the best. A true Scribe requires ink, and the best ink for a Scribe is ink they make themselves.”

His voice wasn’t as gruff as he spoke. He’d gone back to preparing the ink, mixing the reagents together in a little mortar, but his shoulders had relaxed, as if he’d let himself forget where he was and decided to just enjoy the work. I respected that.

I watched him work, mixing the materials together, and tried to remember it all as best I could. It was a complicated process, but he didn’t slow down or hesitate as he moved. He was experienced and confident in his abilities, and while I had no idea what was SUPPOSED to happen, the shimmering brown ink left in the mortar when he was done certainly looked magical to me.

Reaching under the counter nearby, he pulled out a long, thin wooden box, popping the latch and opening it to reveal a series of differently sized needles made of various colored metals. They lay against a black velvet interior, shining with a preternatural light.

I swallowed hard. Those looked…sharp. The Scribe grinned at me when he noticed my gaze. “Not a fan of needles?” he asked with perhaps a bit more malice than necessary.

“I love needles,” I told him spitefully. “They’re my favorite thing. In fact, that’s not enough needles. Do you have more? Twice that many at least. And you should already be st-stabbing me.” I stuttered just a bit as I spoke, but managed to force my way through the diatribe. It was pointless, really, but it made me feel a bit better. Running my mouth was a great way to distract from the terrifying spikes of metal about to be shoved into my skin.

I did not, as a rule, like needles. It was odd, because I didn’t mind knives, even thin ones, or even spears, which were mostly the same thing, but I REALLY disliked needles.

Reaching into the box, he picked up a greenish needle, then snagged another that was more yellow, walking around behind me where I couldn’t see him. I heard a cork pop, then metal on glass. I swallowed, waiting for pain, but nothing came. “So what are you going to do with those, anyway?”

“I’m going to knit you a sweater,” he said sarcastically. “But honestly, if you’re that worried about it, there are other methods to apply the pattern. I need not use needles at all. There’s no reason you need to be in pain.”

My mood brightened a bit at that. “Really?” I asked hopefully, turning to look at him over my shoulder.

Just in time to see him drive a pair of metal points into my skin, deftly spearing me about ten times before I could even process the pain. He grinned at me maliciously. “No. Now turn around and let me work.” And thus began the most painful hour of my life.