Technomancer: Birth of a Goddess

“Welcome to the home waters, Emily,” Rimaro says, lifting his legs beneath him to sit cross-legged in the air at eye level with her. “What is the intent of your visit with your dangerous sky ship and ocean-shaking?”

“You detected that?” she asks, receiving a nod from Ion. “I apologise if I disturbed you with that: I tested one of my weapons in the open waters on the way over. As for my intent, I was hoping our visit would be one of magical and cultural exchange. I’ve only heard stories of your magics and would love to see them more closely in action, and I also have an interest in experiencing the volcanic region to the south of your homeland.”

Rimaro nods and turns to meet his companions’ eyes in consideration before responding.

“We would be glad to extend our hospitality to a fellow speaker of our tongue, but we would need sufficient offerings to allow you insight into our rituals and access to the burning mountains.”

“Of course.” Emily nods, rolling a coin between her metal digits, showing off the finely articulated limb. “I have plenty to trade for your generosity. I made this arm and my ship myself, and have designed more spells than I’d care to count. Where should we start?”

“Your word is plenty for now. We can come to an agreement after meeting the rest of the Gods’ Council. But first.” Rimaro turns his gaze to Virgil. “Can we be sure you aren’t here on behalf of the demon’s kingdom?”

“Despite my position,” Virgil answers in the common tongue, “I am here only as Emily’s friend. I joined her on this trip for a magical exchange with her, but I’ll gladly take part and pay your price to visit your burning mountains. Fire is my passion.”

Satisfied with the answer, the winged mage turns to his allies and dismisses them without a word, sending them back down to their fleet.

“Then allow me to join you and guide the way.” He nods towards Elisime as he turns back to face Emily. “We’ll need to head over the land to reach Ilysvar and call a communion.”

“By all means.” Emily releases a burst of spatial mana, wrapping her companions and Rimaro before shunting them into the ship’s bridge. “Welcome aboard The Herald of the Storm, my pride and joy.”

“Elisime? Well, it certainly sounds like an approaching storm from outside.” Rimaro muses, inspecting one of the fading runes from her Teleportation spell as his wings furl and crumble to dust. “Your country’s spellcasting is impressive in its versatility.” 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

“Whilst I follow the same branch of magic as my countrymen, most of them are a lot more limited in their range of magical usage, and I’d attribute my versatility more to my depth of knowledge. Can you not increase your breadth of skill through study with your methods?” Emily asks while charging the ship with machina, kicking her back into motion, folding up more of the loose floor plating to form a seat for her guest as she settles into her command chair.

“In a way, yes. If we make appropriate offerings and show our devotion to our gods, we can request that they grant us more of their blessings, but we are limited in the choice of development based on our deity of choice. Only The Scattered One grants any form of mastery over space, and none of their great gifts are precise in the same manner as the spell you just wove casually.”

“Oh? I’d love to see how they use space if I could. I owe most of my own understanding of the element to a little self-study and an informative conversation with Modo’s Demon, and I’m very interested in expanding my data set.”

Rimaro stares out of the front window for a moment with wide eyes before responding, taking in the ships and water rushing past despite the room barely shaking.

“Guntal hasn’t touched on it, but the first and third mouths have. One of them will likely be willing to offer you insight if you’re so inclined. In the meantime, tell me about this ship. I’ve seen a few of your country’s sky ships before, but none like this.”

“Would you like a tour?” Emily asks, making to rise from her seat.

“Of course.” Rimaro jumps at the offer.

“Let’s start with the generator. I’ve got plans to upgrade it soon, but it’s still one of my best works…”

***

The tour keeps them occupied for most of the journey to land. Rimaro shows a keen interest in Emily’s technology, asking questions about the ideas and inspirations behind the various machines and weapons she shows him, but it’s tempered by the unease that he openly admits upon seeing an expanded cargo hold full of idle metal soldiers.

“You bring an army for a cultural exchange?” he asks her as his burning golden eyes scan through the neat rows of near-identical robots.

“It’s an army, yes, but they’re also my finest tools,” Emily explains. “They have a great many more uses than just waging war, and if I really wanted to, I could do just as much damage as them with spells alone.”

Rimaro considers for a few seconds before nodding as he seems to accept her answer for now, letting them continue.

They return to the bridge at the same time as land crests the horizon, giving them a clear view of the sheer cliffs jutting out from the sea along the shoreline. Emily spots several slots cut out of the middle of the cliff face every hundred metres or so, covered in a dark film.

“What are the holes for?” she asks Rimaro, pointing to a zoomed-in video feed focusing on one of them.

“Housing Ship Destroyers,” he replies, marvelling at the clear image of the distant island. “None may approach our shores uninvited.”

Emily recognises the name he uses refers to the heavy crossbows installed on the ships that met them in open waters.

“What’s their range like? Can they take down airships?”

“Of course.” Rimaro swells with pride. “Our Ship Destroyers can take down sky ships from thousands of metres and sink water ships from further. They’re the pride and joy of our war weavers.”

“Incredible. I’d love to speak to some of your war weavers. I’ve made some enchanted cold weapons before, but I’ve never achieved results like that without some form of propellant.”

“We shall see. I expect they will be eager to take inspiration from your creations.”

Elisime reaches the coast and crosses over the land without meeting any resistance. They glide over vast fields of green and yellow, quickly approaching a sprawling settlement filled with tents and livestock in view of the cliffs. Emily notices runic engravings on the fabric of their homes and the fences containing their oversized cattle, but isn’t surprised, already expecting casual magic use thanks to the records in The Covenant’s library.

Rimaro helps Emily correct their heading, using the small settlement to point them towards Ilysvar. They fly high, trying not to bother the men and women tending the fields below, and quickly leave the coast behind.

The flight over the island is short, lasting only a few hours, but they see several unique species on the way that Emily resists the urge to collect. Halfway through their flight, they even pass over a hunting squad clad in the grey armour of clan Lisori, riding on the backs of a pack of honse, large, muscular quadrupedal beasts with jagged horns in the centre of their heads, and chasing after a large group of goblins in bloodied rags.

“Are you not on good terms with most of the island’s goblin tribes?” Emily asks Rimaro as they watch the honseback mages cutting down the small green creatures with spells and blades.

“Most of them, yes.” He nods, sneering with distaste at the fleeing creatures trying to fight back with rocks and small stone daggers. “But some of their smaller groups insist on following their old man-eating ways and breaking our agreed-upon peace. It doesn’t happen a lot, but the lesser breeds spawn at a frankly unnatural rate, so we occasionally have to deal with small rogue bands of troublemakers like those.”

Emily nods in understanding, noting that most of the blood dried to the goblins’ clothes is far too bright to belong to them.

They finally spot Ilysvar as the sun is beginning to meet the horizon, and a sea of tents of varying sizes greets them, bathed in golden light. There are packed-earth paths leading out of the tents in all directions, some with bands of people leading honse-drawn carriages in and out of the city, and others only people on foot lugging heavy packs on their backs.

A few of the larger tents have people gathering around them, wrapped in tanned leathers and woven cloth, milling around burning braziers while sharing food and drinks. Emily spots a few children by one of the social hubs surrounding a cheerful, old-looking woman covered in runic tattoos who’s forming writhing images of twisted beasts from conjured water, playing with the shadows cast by the nearest flame and ensnaring the young ones’ attention in the waning light.

“I’m guessing you don’t happen to have an airship dock, right?” Pod questions, only glancing at Rimaro for a moment to make sure he understood before turning his attention back to the view.

“We do not,” Rimaro responds, frowning for a moment at Pod’s lack of respect before settling into an expression of pride when he sees the young man’s interest in his culture. “But if you head for the far side of the Exchange, there’s an empty plot we keep clear for training. It should just be large enough to fit this craft.”

“Exchange?”

“It’s what they call this city,” Emily explains, decreasing the power to the ship’s engines to reduce the sound of their flight as they lower in altitude, getting closer to the sprawling tents below. “Ilysvar. It directly translates to faith exchange, or trading place of faith.”

“Do you know why we call it that?” Rimaro asks, turning a curious gaze on her.

“I believe so. When your clans first joined hands, you met here to discuss the terms of your cooperation, right?”

“Correct. How do you know this? Do you have relations hailing from the Isle?”

“No, but Modo’s Covenant holds a few journals of past mages who’ve paid the Isle a visit. It’s not a lot, but they’ve written a little information on your language and history.”

“Ah, that’s how you speak our tongue?”

“Yes.” Emily nods, not feeling the need to mention her system-assisted understanding which aided her fluency, based on the first few sentences he spoke, more than anything she’s read in the past.

“Your pronunciation is impressive for one who learned through your written records.”

“Thank you. Do you not use written records here?” Emily questions, noticing a tone of disdain in Rimaro’s voice despite the compliment. “I’ve read nothing of your history-keeping.”

“No, we tend not to.” Rimaro shakes his head, slipping his hand into the folds of a small pouch of coiled animal skin in the small of his back, pulling out a conch-shaped bone covered in pale green runes. “Most of our important knowledge is passed on by word of mouth, and anything valuable enough to warrant saving, in case it loses its keeper, gets recorded in these Living Whispers.”

He pulses mana through the bone, and a moment later, it speaks with a perfect copy of his voice, repeating his last sentence.

“Doesn’t that mean only your mages have access to your knowledge?” Pod questions, his brow crinkling in distaste. “What if an unawakened person needs that information?”

“If it’s relevant to them, they need simply ask one of the blessed, and it will be shared appropriately. We only record information pertaining to our faith and gods’ blessings,” Rimaro explains as if it were obvious, looking at Pod with genuine confusion. “Why would one not chosen by the gods need access to it?”

Pod blinks in surprise before shaking his head.

“Right, of course. Silly question.”

“I apologise if I have caused offence,” Rimaro frowns, not letting Pod’s disdain pass. “But I fail to see the problem. You don’t feel mortal…”

“Pod is awakened, but he isn’t a mage: he’s a mechanic.” Emily clarifies, letting machina dance across her metal arm and holding it up to show him, drawing his gaze away from her apprentice. “We gather machina instead of, or in my case, as well as, mana, and bend the world to our whims with technology instead of magic. And Pod, you know my opinions on the free flow of information, but their views on it are closely linked with their religion and, from what I understand, formed with no malice towards the unawakened. Hold your judgment until you’ve had a proper chance to understand how their customs have formed and function.”

“I understand,” the young mechanic nods, turning towards Rimaro and dipping his head in a shallow bow. “I’m sorry for my poor manners.”

“That’s quite alright.” Rimaro waves off his apology as he finally tears his gaze away from Emily’s arm. “It’s good to see the younger generation showing compassion for those less blessed than them, and now that I think about it, I believe that’s rare in your country. We have a solid belief here in assisting and protecting those weaker than us. After all, we are but the humble limbs of our gods, given their blessings to enact their wills in this world and guide their believers.”

“A commendable stance.” Pod nods. “Though, they’ve actually started changing that recently in Modo.”

“They have?”

“The current royalty has a respectful stance towards their people,” Emily explains. “And they used my rise to help align their nobles to the same path rather forcefully.”

Rimaro nods, not needing her to explain further. After a few minutes of silent flight, they spot a large, flat expanse of packed earth in the distance occupied by a large group of leather-clad warriors sparring with a wide variety of weapons.

“Ah, sorry.” Rimaro frowns. “They should have emptied the training field when my fleet sent a message of your approach.”

“It’s okay,” Emily replies. “Elisime doesn’t need to touch down.”

“My fellow council members will take time to respond to my call and reach the Exchange: we may be waiting a few days.”

“That’s fine. This ship can stay in the air indefinitely so long as she has sufficient fuel.”

“Truly?” Rimaro’s eyes widen in awe. “In that case, leave her here and, if you would like, I could give you a tour of the Exchange in the meantime?”

“I’d love that,” Emily replies, bringing Elisime to a halt and preparing a spell to warp them to the streets below. “Why don’t we start with some food? I’d like to sample some local cuisine…”