Saskia drew in a deep breath of crisp mountain air. It felt good to be back.

More than good. It felt…right.

Though she’d been eager to get back to her mum and her friends and her old life, there had been something magical about her time in Nepal. Something she’d only appreciated after it was gone. Now, as she and Ivan and Padhra walked the frozen path through the snow-dappled trees at the foot of Mount Sesayung, she felt that familiar sense of peace seeping back into her soul. This was where she was meant to be. She could feel it in her bones.

Ahead, the forest path opened out into a wide strip of houses and farms, nestled on the side of a steep slope, overlooking a swift-flowing mountain stream. The settlement of Tengsanpalem was not marked on many maps. There were no roads. They didn’t have electricity or running water. The only way to get here was to hike through endless kilometres of rugged, untamed wilderness. Even by the standards of other Himalayan villages, it was remote. Trekking groups rarely came through here, and never stayed for long. Most of the local clan liked it this way.

And right now, so did Saskia.

Not that she was under any illusions that her presence here would remain a secret for long. Everyone with an interest in finding her knew of her little cult following in the Himalayas, and they’d surely have anticipated her return.

But the remoteness of this area would hopefully afford her some respite, regardless. News travelled slowly around here. The Lingya people would do everything in their power to shelter their so-called goddess and keep her hidden from outsiders. And there were many places to hide in these mountains. By the time her enemies caught up with her, hopefully she and her allies would be better equipped to defend themselves.

The instant the trio stepped out into the open, a group of young boys dashed across the buckwheat fields to meet them. They skidded to a halt at the sight of Padhra, who eyed them sternly. Ivan grinned at them, and gave a little wave. Then one of the boys caught sight of Saskia, and shouted, “Old One!”

Next thing she knew they were tugged at her hands and legs, poking and prodding and stroking, and peppering her with questions in their native language.

Saskia endured their attention with a resigned inner sigh. Trust these children to recognise her, in spite of the umpteen layers she wore, and the hood she’d pulled over her head. Lingya kids always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to sniffing her out. Maybe they were oracles.

Producing a bar of chocolate she’d saved for just such an occasion, she broke off a few pieces, popping one into her mouth and chewing with unfeigned relish.

“You seriously hauled that all the way up here just to eat it in front of the local brats?” said Ivan. “I had no idea you were an evil goddess. Although the tentacles shoulda clued me in.”

She grinned. “This is but step one of my evil plan. Now for step two.” Holding the chocolate over the reaching hands, Saskia told the boys, “You wish to partake of this divine bounty? I would ask a favour in return…”

“Yes, Old One!” said one boy. “Whatever you wish!”

“Don’t listen to him” said another. “I’m your true champion!”

“Oh! Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!”

“You are all my young champions. But first and foremost, you are my messengers. Spread the word among the other children, and your parents, if they will listen to you. There are those out there in the wider world who would do me harm. They must not learn that I am here. If anyone comes to Tengsanpalem asking about me, don’t tell them anything. And as soon as it’s safe to do so, tell one of the priests or priestesses of the temple what you heard. Think you can do that for me?”

The answer was entirely predictable, but her oracle truth sense told her they were being sincere in their intent to help her.

Smiling, Saskia handed each of them a piece of the priceless foil-wrapped treasure. The boys’ faces turned to pure rapture when they chewed. Then they dashed up the slope, laughing and waving at her.

“See?” said Saskia. “A little bribery can go a long way.”

“That may not have been the wisest course, Old One,” murmured Padhra. “Now they will expect more divine handouts every time they see you.”

“Well they’re out of luck there,” said Saskia. “I doubt I’ll be going anywhere that sells chocolate for a while. And I’m broke.”

The sun was close to sinking behind the mountains by the time they arrived at their destination, on a ridgetop high above Tengsanpalem. Saskia’s eyes drank in the familiar sight of the painted statues and tiered structure that was the Temple of Yona. Her temple, if she ever let herself believe their propaganda.

Minganha rushed out to meet them, looking as colourful as ever, bedecked in a long, colourful dress and gold ornamentation. “Old One! Padhra! It gladdens me to see you both. And…who is this? You bring your consort to Lingyawon?”

“He’s not my consort!” said Saskia, perhaps a bit too hastily. “Ivan is just a friend. He has been a huge help these past weeks since…well, I’m sure you heard about it, even all the way out here.”

“Yes, Old One, I have seen the video. The enemies of the gods have grown too bold of late. The Yagthumba stand ready to oppose them, should they steal into the shadow of Sesayung.”

“I hope it won’t come to that. Problem is, I still don’t know who my enemies are, exactly. I’ve been told the prime suspects are a group called the Unveilers, and one of my own kind, known to your people as Ogunteng.”

Minganha stiffened as Saskia spoke that last name, then her expression turned resolute. “The Infernal Spirit shall not set foot on the slopes of Sesayung. Not as long as we draw breath.”

“We don’t know it’s him,” said Saskia. “I have reason to doubt that it is. And if it is, it won’t be him coming for me personally. It’ll be his goons. And various foreign governments and other interested parties, when they track me down.”

She had already grilled Padhra and Viktor about her father’s nemesis. The stories they had told her were, frankly, terrifying, but in none of those stories had The Ram, or Ogunteng, ever showed up in person. He worked through proxies, rather like a certain god of Arbor Mundi. And like her father, he seemed to favour the ‘security by obscurity’ method. No-one knew where to find him. No-one even knew what his human form looked like. Assuming he had a human form. He could be an actual ram, for all she knew.

“Whoever comes for you will have to go through us,” said Minganha fervently. Padhra nodded in agreement.

Saskia didn’t fancy their chances if the enemy came too soon, and brought drones or helicopters or modern weaponry. But she didn’t voice her doubts aloud.

“I was hoping to lay low for a while,” she said. “The longer I can stay hidden, the more time we’ll have to prepare.”

“I will see to it that no-one talks, Old One,” said Minganha. “The guest wing is yours if it pleases you. None will disturb you in there, unless you wish it. Although there are some other visitors present who would love to see you again…”

As if on cue, a high voice rang out across the temple grounds. Glancing over, she saw that it was none other than Khenshing. Amlya, stepped into view a moment later, baby Numya in hand. When she caught sight of Saskia, a smile lit up her weather-worn face.

Saskia threw her arms around the Lingya woman. “It’s so good to see you again!” She looked down at Khenshing. “Wow, you’ve grown!”

“Will you be staying with us again, Old One?” asked Khenshing, sounding hopeful.

“I’m afraid not, child,” said Saskia. “I’ll be staying at the temple. You’re welcome to visit me here, though—just as long as you don’t tell anyone. You think you can keep a secret?”

The girl nodded, and her mother chimed in, “We mostly keep to ourselves when we’re not at temple. Your secret is safe with us.” Turning to Saskia’s bodyguard, Amlya said, “Welcome home, Padhra.”

“I am glad to be here,” replied Padhra.

“You know each other?” asked Saskia.

Padhra nodded. “Amlya is my aunt.”

“Oh wow,” she said. “It seems taking care of me runs in your family. I don’t know what I would have done without Amlya.”

Amlya looked at Ivan, and an unspoken question lingered on the air. Saskia introduced her friend, emphasising the ‘just a friend’ part. It was harder than she expected to get the concept across, because men and women rarely associated with each other in Lingyawon society, unless they were courting, married, or close family.

“Why do they keep looking at me like that?” asked Ivan.

“Because they think we’re…you know.” She made a rude gesture with her hands.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh.” A grin spread across his face. “We should jump up and down on your bed. Give them something to talk about.”

“You’re horrible,” she said, then flashed him a smile. “I like it.”

Their rooms were modest, but comfortable. Aside from a small generator out the back of the building, which Minganha used to charge her satellite phone and radio, there was no electricity here. No running water, either, and no hot water, unless they manually heated it over a fire. The toilets were long-drops. Yet this temple in the middle of nowhere was more civilised than a king’s palace on Arbor Mundi.

After they’d settled into their new quarters and bathed away their travel sweat, they joined the others for a late evening meal. Dinner that night was dal bhat tarkari; a lentil soup, crunchy rice (it didn’t cook very well at high altitude, where the water boiled at a lower temperature) and a spicy vegetable curry. Saskia had grown heartily sick of the stuff last time she was here. The individual ingredients varied somewhat, depending on which vegetables were in season, and whether they had any meat, but they generally went for weeks on end eating the same thing, morning and night.

Still, she had no cause for complaint. Having experienced the delights of Arbor Mundi cuisine, she’d never feel picky about Earth food again.

Besides, the meal was unimportant. It was the company that mattered. Minganha and Amlya and her family were just about the most welcoming people she’d ever met, and they made her feel as if she’d never left.

Ivan, meanwhile, seemed fascinated by the coin game Minganha played with Yungwa, one of the temple priestesses, after the meal was over. The pair would take turns spinning a rupee coin on the table—and then just sit there, staring at it, until eventually it fell over. From their expressions, Saskia could tell that Minganha was winning more often than not.

“What are they doing?” asked Ivan, his forehead creased in puzzlement. “That has to be one of the most boring games ever. I mean it’s pure chance, right? Fifty-fifty. Who cares which way the coin lands?”

“Hey Minganha,” called out Saskia. “Ivan thinks your game is boring. Wanna teach him the error of his ways?”

Smiling, the priestess ushered Ivan over. He sat opposite her, while she placed the coin edge-up on the table, and spun it around. “I wish to see Sagarmatha.” Saskia translated her words to Ivan, who only spoke the few Lingya words she and Padhra had taught him during their long trek. Sagarmatha was the local name for Mount Everest, which featured prominently on one side of the coin.

They watched in silence as the coin spun on the tabletop. Saskia felt a stirring of essence being pulled from the air. Then the coin finished its flickering spin, and rolled over. She looked down at the slopes of Mount Everest emblazoned on the top face of the coin.

It would take more than one such demonstration to convince Ivan, however. Many more. Each time, the coin landed Everest side up.

“It’s a trick,” said Ivan. “The coin’s heavier on one side or something.”

When Saskia relayed his words to the priestess, Minganha said, “Now I wish for the water buffalo to rise up.” She showed him the other side of the coin, which depicted water buffalo pulling a plough. Every time she spun the coin thereafter, it landed water buffalo side up.

“She must be using some technique to make the coin fall as she wants it to.”

“Yeah, the technique is called magic,” said Saskia. To Minganha, she said, “That’s really impressive. You’ve improved a lot since I saw you last.”

“I still think there’s some sleight of hand involved,” insisted Ivan.

Rolling her eyes, Minganha handed Ivan the coin, and asked him to spin it for her. He did so, repeatedly. Each time, it fell the way she intended it to.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “How is she doing that?”

“It really is magic, Ivan,” said Saskia. “Not magician’s tricks. I didn’t think there was any magic native to this universe, but it turns out it’s just being suppressed. It’s not as flashy as what I saw on Arbor Mundi, but it is very real.”

“So…telekinesis, then?” said Ivan.

“No,” said Saskia. “At least, not directly. It’s more…quantum mechanicy. When two events have a more-or-less equal chance of happening—heads, or tails—Minganha and the others can tip the scales one way or the other. It only works on small, nearby things. No manipulating election results. No conjuring whales or bowls of petunias out of thin air. But they can in some small way nudge reality in the direction they want. I guess you can think of it as luck magic.”

“So that game was sort of a magical tug of war?” said Ivan.

“Yeah, exactly,” said Saskia. “Looks like Minganha is the stronger of the two.”

“Can you do it too?” asked Ivan. “That time you shot down the helicopter…”

“No,” said Saskia. “At least, not consciously. According to the keystone, I would’ve had the potential to be a magus—that’s what we call Earth mages—but the power is incompatible with my foreign power set.”

“What’s the keystone?”

“Ah. That. It’s easier if I just show you.”

Saskia had been planning to give him the full tour tomorrow, but what the hell. Might as well get it over with. She led Ivan down into the basement, to the control chamber her eldritch ancestor had built all those centuries ago.

“That’s the keystone?” asked Ivan, staring at the rather phallic-looking black pillar in the centre of the room.

Saskia nodded. “Think of it as a kind of magical control console.”

“What does it control?” he asked.

She raised her hand dismissively. “We’ll get to that.”

This keystone was a stretched dodecahedron, rather than the rectangular monoliths she’d found on Arbor Mundi. There were other differences too, such as the fact that it spoke aloud, rather than hooking into her oracle interface. A fact that she proceeded to demonstrate.

The moment she laid her hand on the smooth, multifaceted surface, a voice, cold and vaguely feminine, filled the chamber. “Say your command, mouthlet.”

That right there was the other big difference between this keystone and the ones on Arbor Mundi. It had stubbornly refused to yield all of its secrets, because here, she wasn’t its master. Yona, as far as the keystone was aware, was still alive and kicking somewhere out there. It recognised her as a close relative of its master, but that didn’t give her full control.

She’d been tempted to bring the keystone back home with her, and see if her tech savvy friends could take a crack at it, but getting it through customs would’ve been a nightmare. No, it had been safer here, in the care of her devoted followers. She’d always planned to come back. Just not under such desperate circumstances.

“Whoa, what the…?” said Ivan. “Where’d that voice come from? What’s a mouthlet?”

Saskia opened her mouth to answer, then stopped, suddenly confused. The keystone hadn’t spoken English. Nor Lingya, for that matter. Minganha hadn’t recognised a single word of it. Yet Saskia had understood this language instantly the first time she heard it, even without the help of her oracle translator, which had been disabled at the time. And so, apparently, had Ivan. Very interesting, and kinda suspicious…

Her eyes narrowed. “Ivan, is there something you haven’t told me?”

Now it was his turn to look confused. Well, even more confused. “What do you mean?”

Her lie detector wasn’t picking up even a hint of deceit from him.

“May as well just have it take a look at you.” She pressed her hand back against the obelisk. “Keystone, could you scan my companion, Ivan?”

“Analysis will proceed when the individual designated Ivan steps into the circle.” A light appeared on the floor.

“You heard it,” said Saskia. “Get your butt over here.”

“This had better not be some kind of horrible deathtrap,” said Ivan as he stepped into the circle.

A column of light engulfed him. “Analysing…” said the keystone.

“Disintegration in thirty seconds,” said Saskia. “Twenty nine…”

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” Ivan tried to step out of the beam, only to find he was boxed in.

“Kidding,” said Saskia. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Oh you’re so dead,” said Ivan, tapping his hand against the invisible barrier.

“Latent magus detected,” said the keystone. “Local essence suppression field prevents further development.”

“Keystone, please install an anti-dampener in the subject,” she ordered.

Ivan blinked at her. “What the hell is an—ow, what the shit!?”

Just as it had with Saskia, a robotic arm had emerged from the floor to stab Ivan in the leg with its needle.

As best she’d been able to ascertain from the keystone—as well as earlier conversations with her father—the anti-magic field intrinsic to this world was what had caused her seizures, and very nearly killed her. The needle-bot administered a counter to that—an anti-anti-magic field generator. It not only restored her oracle abilities, but also protected her against this world’s relentless assault on eldritch beings such as herself. She didn’t know if the effect extended beyond the Earth, but at least in this neck of the universe, she wouldn’t last long without the anti-dampener.

Minganha and some of the other Lingya (and Ivan too, it seemed) were similarly affected, though not to the same degree. They’d always had the potential to be magi, but the anti-magic field had been suppressing their abilities. All of that had changed after she’d brought them before the keystone, and given them the same treatment it had given her.

“Perfectly safe my arse,” muttered Ivan, rubbing his calf muscle as the needle retracted.

“Oh, your butt is safe. For now.”

His scowl deepened.

“It’s worth a teensy bit of pain, believe me,” she assured him. “Congratulations. You are now a magus. Do you feel any different?”

“Yep,” said Ivan. “I feel twice as angry. And my leg hurts.”

The column of light vanished. Ivan stepped hastily out of the circle, and stood there, still staring daggers at her.

“Anima divergence suggests the latent has no direct link to the master’s lineage,” said the keystone.

“So I’m not related to your tentacle-goddess grandma?” said Ivan. “Good to know.”

Saskia let out a breath. It was good to know. For a while there, she’d almost believed…

Turning back to the keystone, she asked, “Could you give Ivan guest access to this facility?”

“Only the mouthlet of the master can add new guests,” said the keystone.

No surprise there. The keystone hadn’t let her make Minganha a guest either, and the woman had been the temple’s guardian for over a decade.

“Okay, well, can you at least not turn the vault defences against him?” she asked.

“Vault defences…?” said Ivan.

“The latent will come to no harm as long as he is with you, mouthlet,” said the keystone.

“Good,” she said. “Now open the vault.”

One of the walls slid upward, revealing a smooth-walled passage into the mountainside. Lights flicked on along the walls.

“What powers the lights and scanny thing and needle bot and the freaky AI voice?” asked Ivan.

“I…don’t know,” said Saskia. On Arbor Mundi, she would’ve just said magic, but she rather doubted that non-explanation would fly here.

“More to the point, will the power eventually run out?”

“This facility has been here since the Middle Ages. Yona built it to last.”

The passage took them down into a much larger chamber with a high ceiling. And in the centre of the chamber…

“Whoa,” said Ivan, staring up in awe.

On six broad, armour-plated legs stood a bulbous machine, bristling with solar arrays and sensor stalks and swivel-mounted guns. Two wide, curved panes of dull grey metal swept back across its sides. They looked almost like wings, but they were not for flight. The dents and scorch-marks marring the ancient metal hinted at their purpose: they were shields, designed to protect the more delicate, but still impressively chunky interior from all manner of firepower.

It was built like a tank, and as far as she’d been able to determine, that was its closest analogue among modern conventional forces. An all-terrain robotic tank. She liked to think of it as a mech, but since it wasn’t even remotely humanoid, she’d stick to the most commonly used term for six-legged robots: hexapods.

“It’s like something out of War of the Worlds,” said Ivan. “And you say this has been here for a thousand years? Does it still work?”

Saskia stepped beneath the ancient machine, which stirred slightly at her approach. A platform extruded from its undercarriage. Stepping onto it, she found herself drawn up into its interior, where she slid into the soft webbing of the cockpit, buried deep in its well-protected core. There were no windows. She didn’t need them. Her oracle interface hooked seamlessly into the machine’s AI, allowing her to see out of its sensors and control it as if it were her own six-legged, fifty tonne body.

Saskia turned the forward-facing sensor stalks toward Ivan, then made the machine dance a little jig.

“That is so awesome!” said Ivan. “I’d like to see the looks on our enemies’ faces when they get a load of this! Can I take it for a spin?”

“Not by yourself,” said Saskia through the hexapod’s external speakers. “I couldn’t get you guest access, so I doubt it would obey you, anyhow. You can come aboard and take a look around, though.”

This vehicle was clearly designed to be operated by a crew, though her oracle interface circumvented some of those limitations. Three other hammocky seats hung beside her—for co-pilots or gunners, she’d surmised. Sealed below the cockpit was an empty cargo bay the size of a small bedroom. It could also hold passengers at a pinch, although they’d get jostled around a fair bit whenever the hexapod moved too fast.

She watched through internal and external sensors as he stepped cautiously onto the platform she’d lowered for him, and drew up into the cockpit beside her.

“What the hell is this weird mesh?” he asked, plucking the fibres of one of the seats. “I wonder what it’s made out of, to have lasted this long.”

“Without them, we’d get pretty banged up in a combat situation, the way this thing moves around,” she said. “No idea what they’re made of, though.”

“Can we take it outside?” he asked.

“About that,” she said. “I haven’t been able to get this thing out of the hangar yet. It’s obviously not going to fit through the passage we took to get here. The doors at the other end of the exit ramp seem to be jammed.”

“I could take a look at them,” said Ivan, who had, among other things, worked as a mechanic and freelance fix-it guy.

“Sure,” she said. “It’s getting late, though. We can come back tomorrow.”

“You expect me to sleep after seeing this?” he said.

“I dunno about you, but I need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

She also had to think about whether to make Ivan into her vassal—if he consented to it. There was no need to rush into that decision, and no guarantee it would work, but given that he was a magus, he might be a suitable candidate. If he became her vassal, surely then she’d be able to give him proper guest access to the keystone.

Before she went to bed, she handed Ivan a coin. “Here. Imagine which way you want it to fall, then give it a spin.”

He did so. When it landed Everest side up, he clapped his hands together. “Oh shit, it worked!”

Uh, no it didn’t, she thought. She’d felt no stirring of essence being drawn to him. Even here on Earth, magic was still fuelled by essence, though outside of her body there wasn’t much of the stuff to go around, and there were no foci to help direct it.

Inside her body…well that was an entirely different story. A couple of weeks ago, while crossing into Nepal, something big had happened.

It had started with a hot flush. Within hours, she’d been reduced to a sweating, gasping puddle on the ground. Confined to her tent, with Padhra doing her best to sponge her off, Saskia had been certain she was going to die—in those moments when she was capable of any semblance of coherent thought. It had quickly become apparent that what she had was no natural fever. The arlium beneath her skin had lit her up like a neon sign. This light show was the only reason Ivan and Padhra hadn’t taken her to a hospital, in spite of the risks. After a day and a night she barely remembered, the fever had ended, and it was only then that she’d discovered her essence store had expanded to many times its original capacity.

As for what had triggered the change, that was anyone’s guess. Maybe her undermind had been up to something. Maybe she’d stepped through an unusually dense concentration of the essence that permeated the air, and absorbed it somehow. Whatever it was, it appeared to have been a one-time boost. She’d experienced nothing of that intensity before or since.

“Try again,” she told Ivan.

This time, the coin landed the wrong way. His face fell.

“Keep at it, and don’t expect results fast,” she told him. “By the time I left the temple, Minganha could only get it right six out of ten times—barely better than random chance. Since then, it’s taken months of practice for her to get as good as she is now.”

“When I master this, I’m gonna go clean out a couple of casinos,” said Ivan.

Back in her quarters, she burrowed under her warm covers, feeling a blissful, drowsy sensation engulf her. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed this place, its people, and all of its strange dichotomies: alien and familiar, simple and gaudy, low tech and future tech. Though her stay here had been brief, it felt like home to her. She felt…safe.

 

Drifting. She was drifting away.

Caught in the gentle currents of a warm breeze, she drifted out the temple doors and into the air; a silent, unseen observer.

A man walked backward across the temple grounds, before disappearing beneath the trees. Why backward? She had no idea. Stars turned overhead. A woman flickered back and forth between the temple and an outhouse—also walking backward, her legs moving almost too fast to perceive. Night became day, and the temple grounds became a blur of motion, as people backward-walked to and fro, faster and faster. Those two blurs—they were herself and Ivan stepping out the temple doors, returning whence they’d come.

More nights and days unwound, each one passing quicker than the last—than the next—until the sun and moon and stars wheeled overhead, and people blurred out of existence amidst the ever-shifting scenery.

The temple grounds began to disassemble themselves around her. First the statues vanished, then the outer buildings, then finally the temple itself; torn down to its stone foundations. A different building rose in its place, simpler than before, built out of rough-hewn logs and straw. That too unmade itself, and now she found herself looking at crumbling stone ruins, which began to uncrumble before her very eyes. Metal panels and struts unrusted into existence across its ancient walls, dented and twisted. The resulting structure was like no temple she’d ever seen; a strange dichotomy of old and new; ravaged and unyielding; elegant and intimidating.

Time continued its backward march across the years. Perhaps another century unwound before the flicker of days and nights began to slow. The surrounding trees shrank, then vanished, replaced by blackened, snow-covered stumps.

The stars wavered in their passage across the sky. Dark shapes flitted over the smoking, shattered landscape, illuminated by a series of bright bursts of light.

Amidst the brightest explosion of them all, the dents and splotches and torn metal of the temple reformed into what must have been its original configuration. The trees reappeared around it, tall and green and vibrant once more.

Moments later, the stars were holding steady overhead, and the passage of a small rodent through the trees told her that time was moving forward again. Lights played across the exterior of the temple fortress, emanating from rows of swivelling rooftop turrets.

The air next to the temple entrance seemed to ripple, and for a long moment, she couldn’t tell what she was looking at. Then the blurry shape moved, leaving footprints in the snow as it—no, as they—raced toward the treeline. The blurs coalesced into two giant hexapods, looking much shinier and newer than the one in the vault, a thousand years hence.

Coming to a halt at the edge of the temple clearing, the robots levelling their guns at some unseen foe lurking in the underbrush.

A voice called out; strange, yet eerily familiar. Her own voice.

And just like that, the hexapods stepped aside, making way for the new arrivals. Through the trees stepped five figures: two trolls, two dwarves, and a mer woman. All except the mer, she recognised. They had changed much since last she’d seen them. Yet here they were. Here she was.

Though she was without form, she felt her heart skip a beat.