Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

I lost the bet by hours. One of the gods fucking with things was outside of my calculations, and the sun was high in the sky by the time I finished my network.

I felt passingly clever over the whole thing, even though I was cribbing from ‘Wizard poles’, thick pillars of stone and arcanite engraved with enchantments, usually found in more rural areas where centralized networks didn’t work. I couldn’t make an entire field-wide enchantment - but I could carve the enchantments into various stones, and each one covered a portion of the field. I then needed to carefully place the stones all over the field, each one radiating an aura of the enchantments laid. Wards against insects and bugs - that one had to be carefully managed for pollination. Sigils to help handle too much water - a lack of water was fixed with a watering can and an alert when the levels were too low. More wards against pestilence and disease, and I blessed the ancient [Runesmiths] who’d made the runes into a compact form.

In many ways, the wards were a disaster. A lack of arcanite meant I’d need to constantly recharge them throughout the day, the fields double-overlapped in some places and had little holes in others, each ward radius was slightly different thanks to different shaped and sized rocks, the ink was conjured, I had to place them on now-doomed seedlings, and it was inevitable that exposure to the elements would wear them away.

But they were scalable, sustainable, didn’t require an elaborate connected network, and I could make them for my neighbors. It broke my little witchy heart to strip out the vast majority of the fun or better enchantments, but most people didn’t have the spare mana to power the really good enchantments. I was torn on making them anyway, then fueling them myself, zipping over the fields several times a day in a blur of wings and feathers.

The question I was facing more and more - was this a good use of my time?

I was a Classer through and through. My stats were absurd. I could lift 53 times what a normal woman could lift, and do it 116 times as fast. Those effectively multiplied together, letting me do roughly what 6,148 people could do.

Well, if the average person was three times as fast as baseline, and three times as strong - okay, let’s be honest, thanks to my puny stature and modest muscle mass, biomancy or no, six times as strong - that was still the work of 341 people… assuming I needed to apply my full strength and full speed to the task. Picking berries, for example, only looked at my speed, while lifting logs was a strength-only task. Shoveling stone, however, was both.

Was spending, say, thirty minutes a day, every day, buzzing every field worth it to let everyone have higher quality enchantments? Or was my time better spent doing other things, something nobody else could do? Preventing people from literally starving to death was fucking important, but if I didn’t include the water sensor, for example, people could develop the skills and the Skills needed to work it out themselves. It wasn’t like I was kneecapping them, preventing them from making a living, and we were rapidly trying to establish something of a safety net. The vast stores of food in my storage was one such net, and I’d never seen a community come together so quickly, so hard. Adversity was an excellent glue.

Then there was the question of levels. I wasn’t always going to be around to help people, and the sooner the ‘training wheels’ came off, the less I held people’s hands, the faster they’d be fully self reliant. I had no illusions I’d always be around. Mare Town - Katerina’s founded village from the Sixth - needed me, as did a thousand other places, which looped back to the original thought - where was my time best spent?

I felt like when I’d first become a Sentinel, nearly a century ago, over twenty thousand years ago. Directionless, rudderless. The basics were simple. Grow some food, protect my little community. Improve the community, our quality of life. See things grow and thrive, struggle against adversity.

Yet, I knew I could do so much more. Fly to Mare Town, see if Katerina needed me. Fly to every other city in former Exterreri, nay, every city left in the world. See what could be done, how many were torn up, which ones were defying the fall of civilization.

Was that the best use of my time? What about finding my friends, my family? Should I go hunting for Nina? I had a rough idea where she’d been last, it wasn’t insane to locate her. What about the School? Artemis and Julius? Amber?

There were a thousand, a million things only I could do, but the sand in Chronos’s hourglass was relentless. A grain a second, my Immortal time ironically limited.

I needed to step up. To make my decisions without a guiding hand. Without Command, Arachne, the Sentinels, Julius, or anyone else telling me what to do, giving me a direction to move in. I needed to find my own direction, forge my own path blindly, without assistance. Sitting and dithering was the wrong move, the worst move. I had to act.

Right. Things only I could do.

I didn’t know of any other [Couriers] still making rounds. Nobody had visited Orthus or Mare Town, and I had promised I’d report back to Katerina now and then, and bring news. It also let me expand the number of places where I could see if I was urgently needed, more places to act as a courier. The bird’s eye view as I traveled could let me spot problems and resources - we desperately needed wood. Millions of acres had burned, and the fundamental assumption of ‘we can go chop wood to build houses’ was being severely challenged, as all the wood we wanted to use was currently raining down in a fine layer of ash.

A plan made, goals set for the next… hour… I took off to find Iona. Auri and Titania were working on a project together in the bunker. Operation: Daycare. There just wasn’t a great way to handle all the kids, and while children as young as three could be vaguely trusted in the fields - everyone had to pitch in when it came to survival - there was a consensus that the very youngest could be spared, along with a few hands to look after them. I felt a little bad for Titania - we all agreed she was part of our household, and we were responsible for her, but the two of us did almost all the work already. I was happy she was finding a way to be useful.

I took off towards the river rerouting project, spotting Skye trotting along on Varuna’s back. The unicorn was looking shiny, and Skye was carefully taking notes on how everyone was doing, who needed help, and generally being The Great Communicator.

I spotted Iona a minute later, my wife barely visible from the utter plume of soil and rock she was leaving behind. Wielding a pickaxe in one hand, shovel in the other, she was tearing through the rock and soil at a running pace, digging a significant riverbed the whole time.

“Hey love!” I floated backwards in front of her, giving myself enough room not to get brained by a flung rock. “Going to Mare, then…” I gave Iona a full list of my flight plan, a way for her to try and find me if I should go missing. The gods knew it was dangerous enough out there right now that the precaution was warranted. “Also going to try and find a small untouched forest.” R̃ãＮＯᛒЕŞ

Iona grunted.

“See if it’s near the river, I’m not looking forward to multi-mile hikes carrying logs over my shoulder.”

I shuddered at the thought. Logs were simply… hang on. Assumptions were no way to operate, I had the numbers and reference tables. I started doing some calculations, pleasantly surprised at the outcome.

“For smaller logs, I can teleport them into my [Tower].” I said with some surprise. “Assuming 40 cm diameter and three meter length, I can teleport around 400, maybe 500 an hour into and out of [Tower]. I’m capped on the largest logs… well, not too terribly capped… but I think my main problem is actually space inside the [Tower], but I’m quick enough to zip over and unload them, then come back. Huh. That actually works.” I said with quite a bit of surprise.

I was leveling fast, with a black quality class. I wasn’t quite used to my new powers, my new levels. I had far more options than previously, and things that had been dismissed as ‘not possible, don’t even think about it’ were now in the ‘sure, why not?’ group.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

A relieved look flickered over Iona’s face of intense concentration.

“Well, that’s a relief.” She said. I was all for a bit of teasing.

“It’ll be much faster if we use all logistical methods available.” I said.

Iona expertly angled her shovel to fire a clod of dirt at me. I casually [Teleported] out of the way.

“Ha-” I barely got the word out before a second shovel full of mud smacked into my face. Through my splutters and [The World Around Me] I could see Iona smirking.

“You always teleport to the same spot.”

Katerina and Mare Town were fine, but the giant vine that had taken over a city was withered and dead, most of the population scattered to the winds. I spotted a few people eking out a living in the dead city - using the vine as a house was interesting, if structurally unsound - and I made sure to fly low enough to top them all off, heal them up. That was my duty, my calling, my [Oath] - to heal, and that was exactly what I was going to do. I couldn’t fix all problems, I wouldn’t bog myself down in those details, but I would provide aid. Sometimes, it was that simple.

I flew back, staying low enough to see the ground. Extra bonus, it helped conceal me from anything flying higher up. My wings glowed, but the light was eaten by the ever-falling ash.

Burnt house after smoking field, a forest of ashes and trees of charcoal, the apocalypse had arrived and been thorough. I didn’t even know what hit most of these things, or if it was simple fires that had raged out of control. I hadn’t seen a dragon trying to burn down most of the country… but given how quickly it could happen, I might’ve missed it.

I hit several major settlements, mentally adjusting my map, quietly mourning how places were eliminated, and no new ones were added.

Then I got lucky. The entire world hadn’t burned, and I found a modestly sized forest left standing. I hesitated as I hovered over it, my mind working, trying to balance the pros and the cons.

The forest had enough trees to supply everything Orthus needed in the short term. It wasn’t enough to fulfill Skye’s grand long-term plans, but then again, we didn’t need or want most of the things she was planning to survive the upcoming winter. We needed shelter, heat, and food.

Cutting down enough of the forest to provide all of that would destroy a huge amount of habitat for the animals living here. My reading on long-term forest ecology had been more of a skim than an in-depth study - curse the billion random things I needed to know, and less than a century to learn them all - and I didn’t know if ripping out the root of one of the only existing forests would cause the eventual regrowth and expansion of greenery into the world to slow down. I mean, I knew the basics and fundamentals, I could speak relatively intelligently on the topic to non-experts on the field, I just didn’t have the super-in depth ‘do these actions lead to long-term collapse?’

I tried to synthesize the information I had. It was unlikely that any of the methods and descriptions in the books I’d read had a ‘by the way, this destroys the forest in the long run’ without that being mentioned earlier on… but I had a small curse of not being arrogant enough to assume I knew. If my actions would result in a vibrant and green forest, or slowly strangle it all.

Of course, the ashes could simply choke and kill them all, and my dilemma was moot.

Meh. I should sic Planter on it either way. Get him with a bucket full of acorns and some rich soil, and see what his skills could do. Nature tended to find a way.

Well, if we all froze to death in the coming winter, none of my concerns would matter.

I spent three minutes flying in a great circle around the forest, trying to spot anyone living in or near it, relying on the forest for life. I didn’t want to accidentally murder someone else’s source of survival in pursuit of my own - down that path lay turning into a vicious raider, breaking down everyone else’s doors and robbing them so I’d be well fed. I anticipated meeting some of that ilk in the future, but that would not be me.

I didn’t spot anyone, and I hoped nobody had hidden so well from me. I grabbed a saw and got to work, flying up a thick tree near the edge of the forest.

“It’s been way too long since I did this.” I muttered to myself as I lined the saw up with one of the topmost branches. Wrapping my saw with [Clad in Twilight] - my skill saw it as enough of a weapon to work - I placed it on the joint, and started sawing. The teeth bit into the wood, and up-down, up-down, I got going.

I couldn’t quite use all my speed and strength. I would be fine, my saw would be fine, but it was even odds if I’d light the tree on fire or otherwise break something horribly. I ‘only’ went through it like a knife through cold butter, instead of warm butter.

Whoever made the expression ‘a hot knife through butter’ has never tried to cut warm butter. There is no resistance at all.

I held onto the branch as I finished sawing, the weight of it causing me to dip in my flight a bit. I wanted to store and bring it with me. Best-case, it would be a shelf, worst-case, firewood. Either way, valuable. I didn’t want to teleport into my tower for every little branch though… ah!

I flew out into the charred field, kicked down a couple of the burnt down trees - hang on, I should totally harvest these for charcoal and firewood, they were perfect - and threw the branch onto the ground. Perfect. A little storage pit, and when I had enough branches, I could teleport them all into [Tower] in one trip.

A second idea hit me in a brainwave, and I felt like an idiot. I put my tools down, darted back over to the tree, and unfurled my wings. I flew up and around the tree in a dizzying corkscrew, using [The Rays of the First Dawn] to surgically remove the branches, only a small char left where I’d beamed through. All the branches started to fall in a great crash as I reached the top, and it was extremely satisfying to watch them collapse one after another. I then flew down the tree and made three cuts, thirding it. I was pleased as punch that my cuts had been so fine, that my dexterity and skills helped keep everything perfectly level, that the tree was just standing there. It was dead, it was in three parts, but to any casual observer the trunk was whole and hale.

I finished my cutting flight at the top of the tree, blessing the lack of a strong wind to blow it over. I placed my hand on the trunk, and teleported into [Tower], where it just barely, awkwardly, fit in the central ‘column’ that was usually my passage between different floors. I gave it a gentle shove, letting it drift up to the top of the tower. I didn’t wait to see how well it did, and I had a suddenly horrifying moment as I teleported out.

I really, really hoped I was careful with my launch. If the log caught on the lip of one of the floors in my tower, it could wreck my supplies.

Two more trips got the rest of the tree into my [Tower], and I roughly guesstimated that my mana regeneration wasn’t going to be the bottleneck on my lumberjack excursion - storage space being far more limited than anticipated combined with travel time was going to be my bottleneck.

I flew down to the forest floor, stored all the branches, and picked up a dozen of the best-looking pinecones I could find.

The best time to plant a tree was sixteen years ago, the second best time was right now. I was blessed with Immortality. If all went well, I would be able to enjoy the shade of the trees I was planting.

Planting was far better than dithering over the best course to take. Nature always found a way.

Then it was onto the next tree.

“Sorry about this.” I said before I turned into a one-woman lightshow again.

“What’s all this?” I asked Iona and Auri near the entrance to the bunker. A roaring fire - purely Auri - was cooking a pair of oviraptors on a spit roast.

“Brrpt!” Auri was very proud of herself, and with good reason. “Brrpt, brrpt BRPT!”

The monster had been sneaking around the bunker where the babies’ nursery was, and Auri had taken that personally. Most of the fields were plowed by now, and a small party was being thrown.

We didn’t have much, but that seemed to make everyone all the more determined to enjoy it. A lute was produced, skills made light, and [Chef] Auri was enjoying every minute of it. Not only was she the heroine of the hour, but she was also doling out huge chunks of meat to everyone. We weren’t starving, not yet, nor were we on half rations, but the days were long and hard, and there wasn’t enough to feel stuffed, not until now. A clearing was made, and couples started to dance.

“Want to dance?” Iona suggested, and I needed no encouragement. I grabbed her hand and we giggled as we both sped towards the floor. Iona slipped her arm around my waist, and the whole world seemed to fall away as I gazed into her eyes.

We danced, we sang, we ate great food, and as the party wound down, I gathered everyone nearby.

“Come closer, come closer.” I extolled everyone as I doused the lights with a flicker of thought. I rested on a throne of stars, my chair large enough that I was looming slightly over everyone. I lit myself up with [A Light Shining in the Darkness], and was really getting into my role.

“Aye, come one, come all, from ye little babes to you slightly older youngsters.” I shot a cheeky wink at one of the greybeards, just a year younger than I was. By Ciriel, I was possibly the oldest person here, tied with Iona.

“You know me as Sentinel Dawn. As Elaine, as the healer. As ‘that crazy mango lady who lives on the hill.’”

I paused a moment for the ripple of laughter. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew what people thought of me and what my reputation was.

“Ah, but throughout the years, I’ve held many jobs, many roles. Why, just today I was chopping down trees, a proper [Lumberjack!]. Except chopping wood is boring, so I just magicked it.” I grinned at my joke, and the crowd was in a good enough mood for me to get a soft chuckle out of them.

“But now, tonight! I reprise one of my oldest jobs, my oldest roles. The one that got me here in the first place, that set me on the journey, that opened all the doors.” I had them now, young and old, leaning in with interest.

“A singer of stories, I was! A teller of tales! Old tales, ancient tales now, for I passed on a few notes to the one now known as The Bard. Tales from another land, another world! Each one of these you have heard before, twisted and distorted over time and retelling. And now, tonight, directly from the horse’s mouth, you will hear them again, in their original glory!”

We could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet. I started off with a bang, roaring the song from the depths of my lungs.

“Rage! Sing, Goddess, Achilles’ rage…”

[*ding!* [Dexterous and Handy] has evolved into [Everywoman]]

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