Chapter Four

  “Vented arcane energy is not without its uses, for depending upon the state of its manifestation, it possesses a multitude of applications. Namely, amplification.”

  – Elysia Vosskan, Head of the Department of Innovation at Giaval’s Institute of Arcane Science

  ~*~

  Liv willed both the crystal and the spiritbook from her sight. They dissolved into thin ribbons of shimmering dust before fading entirely. Where they went, she wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew it had something to do with whatever apparent magic now resided in her chest.

  “No food, no shelter, no supplies,” she sighed.

  She didn’t exactly need a book to tell her she was in trouble.

  She glanced off in the direction the airship had disappeared. It had been descending at the time, which likely meant there was some form of airstrip nearby, if not a town or city. Surely she’d be able to find someone who could help her? Survive the new world and all that?

  Steeling her resolve, she rose on shaky knees and braced herself against a nearby tree. The world spun and for a moment, she was afraid she might pass out again. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited until her bearings returned in full. When they did, she drew a shuddering breath and took a moment to reevaluate her current predicament.

  Aside from the whole magic business, this new world didn’t appear all that different from earth. The addition of airships, while startling at first, wasn’t an entirely foreign concept. The one she had seen shared a number of similarities with Zeppelins and while they weren’t widely used, they still existed in her world. Maybe they’d just found more success here?

  She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

  Straightening, she took a step back from the tree and searched the surrounding woods a second time. There were no nearby roads or woodland paths from what she could tell, which meant she’d have to pick her way through the forest on her own. She wasn’t entirely sure what time it was, or how long she had been unconscious for, but making the best of the remaining daylight hours was in her best interest. She was cold enough as it was in her stupid cocktail dress and there was no telling how much farther the temperature might drop come sundown.

  Water would be another issue, but one she could hopefully alleviate by visiting the stream she could hear burbling some distance away. By the sound of it, it flowed somewhere along her planned path anyway, so she wouldn’t have to travel too far out of her way to reach it. Ideally, she should boil the water before drinking it, but she didn’t exactly have a means of doing so. She’d simply have to risk it and hope for the best.

  Gathering her boot heels, she set off. As she went, she kept her attention on the ground, mindful of any roots or sharp rocks. With her feet as bare as they were, travel proved rather difficult. Her exposed skin was tender and all too sensitive.

  Her heels would have been more a hindrance than anything else, but she kept them clutched in her good hand all the same. They could prove useful later and she wasn’t keen on discarding any potential tools just yet. She was no survival expert, but she figured it was a good idea to keep any potential resources with her, trivial as they may seem.

  As she drew closer to the water source, the terrain began to change. The tall, thick ferns and grass she’d waded through abruptly ended, giving way to a short, rocky cliff overlooking a small clearing. Through it, ran a steady creek a few feet wide. Moss blanketed the large, flat boulders flanking either side and here and there, dense patches of reeds rose high above the surrounding foliage.

  Were she not in her current predicament, she may have taken a moment to enjoy the sight. From her vantage, she surveyed the glade. Still no sign of human intervention of any sort. She considered calling out in hopes that someone might hear her, but some inner voice warned her against doing so. She wasn’t sure who or what might be lurking in these woods. The last thing she needed was some forest predator pouncing on her because she was stupid enough to broadcast her position to anything and everything within her vicinity.

  For now, she’d keep her wits about her and press on in silence.

  Tentatively, she walked the length of the cliffside, the dark stone warm beneath her toes. The rock formation didn’t appear particularly high, but it was far too steep to climb down without the proper training or equipment. Jumping was out of the question too. At best, she’d break an ankle. At worst, she’d stumble and break her back, if not her neck. Neither of those possibilities were particularly appealing, so she sought a safer path instead, despite her aching feet.

  Eventually, she reached the far edge of the cliff where the stone gave way to sediment and grass. The incline was still steep, but far more manageable. What she assumed was a game path wound its way down the slope, its well-worn track offering a more steady means of travel. Here and there, she could make out a few prints along the damp soil. Deer, mostly, and maybe a few belonging to rabbits, but she couldn’t say for certain. She’d hoped to spy a shoe print or tread, but had no such luck.

  In this remote place, she was alone. Her throat grew tight and it was an effort to suppress the slow panic rising in her chest. What if she’d been wrong? What if civilization was still miles away and she’d miscalculated? What if she never made it?

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing and on the present. She was still alive and healthy. Following the airship’s path was her best option. One way or another, she would make it out of this, she was certain. Or so she tried to tell herself as she finally knelt beside the stream.

  She dipped her hands into the cool water and grit her teeth against the burning along her marked skin. She could have sworn it hissed when it touched the water, a few threads of steam rising to curl from the surface. Liv chose to ignore it, told herself it was just her imagination, even if deep down, she knew better.

  Cupping her hands, she drank until the scratchiness of her throat subsided, then submerged her right arm as best she could. The water hissed and popped as if she were quenching a hot blade and while she gasped in alarm, she didn’t pull back. Instead, she angled her face away and held her arm steady until the simmering and steaming subsided. The wash of soothing cold that followed was enough to make her groan in relief. She leant further over the water and closed her eyes, content to let her arm recover as she listened to the singing of the birds.

  However, as the minutes crept by, the skin around the marks seemed to grow tight and her arm grew heavy. Straightening where she knelt, she withdrew from the stream, only to find the entirety of her tattooed skin encrusted by what appeared to be crystalline growths. She stared, wide-eyed.

  “Okay, what the actual fuck,” she breathed.

  The inside of her arm looked like it had been attacked by the steroid version of one of those crystal growth kits from National Geographic. Only, they appeared to have grown from the glyphs themselves. Dense clusters stemmed from the now rusty-red marks, their golden, quartz-like pillars near as long as her fingers.

  Hesitantly, she touched one. It tugged at her skin like a dried scab and peeled away from the foreign symbol it had grown from. A shiver ran down her spine at the odd sensation and she shuddered. The action knocked the loose cluster free and it fell harmlessly into the moss at her knees.

  Aside from the slight rise of the glyph, the skin was smooth and unblemished. She ran her thumb over it a number of times, testing for any lingering pain or irritation, but there was none. There was no heat, no throb, no hint of anything having ever been wrong. The glyphs appeared as nothing more than well-healed tattoos.

  Well, aside from the crystals sprouting from the rest of them.

  Liv carefully plucked them off one by one, staring all the while in mortified fascination. She had crystals, actual crystals growing out of her arm. Honestly, this entire morning was beginning to feel like one big acid trip. Not that Liv had ever partaken in such things, but she’d heard her fair share of stories. What were the odds that she really had been drugged?

  “Probably less than I’d like,” she muttered.

  Once she’d removed the last of the clusters, she turned it over to inspect the bottom edge where it had originated from her arm. There were no bits of skin or flesh, but it did hold the rough shape of the glyph it had sprung from. They all did, she discovered. She supposed it wasn’t too surprising, but at this point, she wasn’t really sure what to make of any of this.

  If she were one of those crystal girlies, she’d probably be having a field day.

  She arranged the two dozen or so clusters in the moss before her, wondering if they might be worth something. They were certainly pretty enough despite their unconventional creation. Tiny metallic streaks shimmered amid the many pillars’ aureate facets, creating an almost kaleidoscope-like effect she couldn’t help but admire.

  It was a shame she couldn’t sell them on Etsy. She would have kept one for herself, of course, but the rest? Those could make her a pretty penny.

  She tilted her head, considering. Who was to say she couldn’t do the same here? A collection of presumably magic crystals had to be worth something, right? At the very least, she might be able to trade them for more practical goods.

  Provided she actually found some sort of city, of course. She doubted anyone would simply give her clothes and supplies. Sure, she might be able to steal some, but she wasn’t exactly keen on finding herself on the wrong side of whatever laws this world had. Taking things that didn’t belong to you was generally frowned upon wherever you went, so she couldn’t imagine it was any different here.

  Fortunately, bartering was equally universal. She had no idea how much these might be worth and thus, would probably get taken advantage of to some extent, but at this point, she didn’t entirely care. Some money was better than none at all. The book had been right: she needed supplies. Her current outfit wasn’t doing her any favors in any respect, so she’d take what she could get.

  The only real question was how she planned on transporting them.

  “Hey, book, are you still lurking around somewhere?” She asked.

  Of course, she already knew the answer.

  The spiritbook manifested beside her crystal stash, flipped to an open page and wrote, For better or worse, I am always with you.

  “Perfect. Now, is there a way for me to store these in the soulspace you mentioned earlier?”

  Yes, but they will not all fit. The space is not infinite.

  She puckered her lips, “Will most of them fit?”

  Carrying a few wasn’t the end of the world.

  Most? Yes.

  Most. She could work with that. Whatever was left could be shoved into the shafts of her boot heels. She didn’t want to openly advertise them, even if she wasn’t certain of their value. For all she knew, doing so would be no different from flaunting around too much cash. Being robbed was the last thing she needed.

  “I can work with that. Stash what you can and I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

  All but three of the fist-sized clusters dissolved into a familiar array of swirling particulates. The space in the center of her chest glowed, then faded as the last of the dust disappeared. She rubbed at her sternum, trying to reconcile the slight pressure that had developed. In a way, the sensation was not all that different from how her stomach felt after she’d eaten too much. Apparently there was a limit to how much she could carry there, after all.

  Good to know.

  She divided the other three into the short shafts of her boots. All things considered, they worked well as improvised carriers. Her feet weren’t exactly in the best of shape, but in the more mountainous terrain, her heels would only be more of a liability. She’d take aching feet over snapped ankles any day. She stuck them into the water too, sighing as she relished the temporary alleviation of pain.

  Had her dress been made of a more friendly material, she might have been tempted to tear a few strips to bind her feet. Unfortunately, the sequin-sewn fabric was more trouble than it was worth. There wasn’t enough to spare either. It’s stupid skirt barely made it to mid-thigh.

  After a quick assessment of her scratched up feet, she took another quick drink from the stream and reached for her boots. Her fingers fell short as some inner voice rose in warning. Goosebumps danced along her skin and the hair along the back of her neck pricked as it rose to stand on end. She drew in a careful breath, realizing the whole of the forest had gone silent.

  She didn’t dare move, not when she saw the distorted reflection of the cloaked figure in the stream.