The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

There was always someone watching Mirian now. As soon as she started to look for it, it was obvious. As she walked into her dorm, she caught sight of one of the people Nurea had pointed out. Oh well. Not much to be done about it. She needed to wait and see if the new mayor or Nurea would believe her.

Until then, what could she do to prepare? She had to stop bumbling about. She had plans, but they were all loose and unstructured. She needed to get ahead of what came next.

An idea struck her, and she got out a piece of parchment. She was sketching out a rough map of Torrviol when Lily walked in.

“Hey roomie,” Lily said. “That doesn’t look like classwor—right, I forgot, you’re an apprentice now. Is that what Professor Jei has you doing?”

“No, I’m going to make a map showing the Akanan attack. This is the rough draft. There’s a bunch of fancy symbols military maps are supposed to use, so I’ll have to look them up. Then I’ll use a spell to make copies. When the Baracuel military shows up, I can hand these out. I might even send one to Fort Aegrimere early.”

Lily bit her lip. “Right. I keep forgetting… it’s still so strange. Like… it can’t be real, but then you do things, or know things… I just don’t know what to do.”

Mirian sat back. “I don’t know either. I’ve been struggling with the philosophy of it. My parents taught me to treat people right, no matter what. But everything I do is erased. The mistakes, yeah, but also the nice things. Any kindness I show—wiped out. Compliments I give—forgotten. What’s the point of helping someone if they’re just going to need that help every cycle? Is it better if I just use people to hurry up the progress I need to make? But then, what kind of person do I become?”

Lily sat down on her bed and looked at Mirian. “I… I can’t believe it. I’ve been so focused on how this affects me I didn’t even ask—Gods, I’m so sorry Mirian. How are you doing?”

Mirian swallowed. She thought about the spike trap, about the sound the first spy’s body had made when it hit the pavement. She thought about the spy who she’d blasted off the battlements several times now, about watching the people of Torrviol get massacred, again and again. She thought of Nicolus, weeping over his dead knight, and of the wails of despair as the very sky fell. She thought of Lily dying in her arms.

Mirian didn’t intend for her words to come out as a hoarse whisper, but they did. “Not well.”

“Come here,” Lily said, and when Mirian did, she hugged her.

The floodgates burst then. Mirian hadn’t realized how much she’d been holding inside until it all started coming out. Great sobs wracked her body, and when Lily handed her a handkerchief, she soaked it. Her friend sat there and kept her arm around her until Mirian was done.

“Better?” Lily said.

“Yeah,” Mirian said, sniffing.

Lily squeezed her shoulder. “This shouldn’t all be on you. I… I mean, I’ve been focused on my classes, but that’s stupid, isn’t it? None of that’s going to matter if… hey, you said you needed a book, right?”

Mirian wiped more of her tears away. “Yeah. Modern Military Map Notation, or something. I don’t remember if it’s in the map room or the reference books.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Lily said. “And I bet I can figure out how to scribe an amanuensis spell to help you copy them.”

“Thanks,” Mirian said, and gave her a soft smile. She was glad to have her friend supporting her again, even if she knew it wouldn’t last.

***

True to her word, Respected Jei was committed. When she discovered Mirian didn’t have enough money to send her map to Fort Aegrimere by zephyr falcon, she gave her the coin, then gave her even more to continue buying mana elixirs and artifice supplies.

“It is hard to commit to this path,” Jei said. “Each reminder that I must sacrifice takes more will to overcome. Even with the preponderance of evidence present, it is easy to let doubt creep in. It is… Iliyia told me the phrase. ‘An existential crisis.’ Most people do not worry about death until they near old age. They cannot comprehend what they do now is in vain. I am glad I have the strength to keep my eyes open.”

“I’ll remember,” Mirian promised.

“I know you will.”

They worked through the weekend, but that was no change for Mirian. She rarely took the time to rest anymore. Jei continued to correct her technique, no matter how minor the error. “Selkus taught me the phrase in your language, ‘practice makes permanent.’ You cannot practice wrong. When you are tired, it is even more important. When you are too tired to do it right, stop. You understand?”

Mirian did. “What does Professor Viridian think of all this?”

“Most of them have an ‘alternative hypothesis,’ Viridian included. Sefora is still, what did she say? Sitting on a fence. I have done my best to convince Iliyia. She is waiting on your last prediction. I must admit, it will be a great reassurance to me.”

“And what’s Archmage Luspire up to?”

Jei frowned. “I do not know. He does not talk to me, and most of his people do not talk to me. They do not like me.”

“But they… invited you. You had to travel months, Zhighua is… really far away.”

“People are messy, and rarely consistent.”

“Isn’t that true,” Mirian mused.

“I am both useful to the project, and a thorn to his ambitions. In the end, it seems not to matter. Back to drills,” Jei said. “You are struggling with displacement most, so that must be our focus. First, remember that all mana you are channeling must originate from your aura, but the exponential drop in potency from distance can be mitigated…”

Mirian sighed, and got back to her lessons.

***

The night of the 19th, Mirian woke sometime before midnight and then spent a long time staring at her ceiling. When it was clear that sleep would not return to her, she dressed and headed to the plaza. The night was cold, so she cast a warmth spell and sat down on the rim of the fountain to watch. The guard on watch—it wasn’t Bertrus, he was off duty—saw her, but said nothing.

Above, the Divir moon hung ominous in the sky, like a sword dangling above them, ready to plunge into Enteria’s heart. She watched it, then her eye was caught by a bright flash in the sky. A streak, not unlike lightning, came across the horizon from the south. It flashed again as its wings unfurled and it came to rest atop the roost tower atop the Royal Courier’s building. The zephyr falcon’s wings still crackled with electricity as it let out a keening call.

She stayed in the plaza. No sense giving anyone an excuse to think she tampered with the message.

Mirian wasn’t sure how Sire Nurea figured out where she was, but she made her appearance, Nicolus in tow. She looked at the guard, then back to Mirian. I wonder if she’s trying to figure out how quickly she can shoot us both.

Eventually, she sat down next to Mirian. “What’s your source?” she said.

“Time travel. It was your uncle, wasn’t it Nicolus? Please explain to Nurea how long I’ve been your classmate and how at no point did I demonstrate even basic conversational skills, never mind the ability to manipulate events on other continents.”

Nicolus flipped his spellbook open. It was a very nice spellbook, with gold leaf on the spine and beautiful designs framing each page. Mirian caught a glimpse of the spell on the page. It was for deconstructing light-based illusions. He started casting. Mirian waited patiently until he was done.

“How many times were we in the same class?” Nicolus asked.

“I have no idea,” Mirian said. She started counting on her fingers. “Were you in Artifice 274 with me?”

He closed his spellbook. “Yeah, it’s her. Nur, I think we need to consider what she’s saying.”

“How do I protect him?” Nurea said.

“You don’t,” Mirian said. She was beginning to see the crux of the problem. Sire Nurea had dedicated her life to protecting Nicolus. It was her entire purpose. Now she was being told he would die and there was nothing she could do about it. “I don’t know why it falls on me. I don’t know what the Gods have seen, or even if this was their doing, though I don’t know how else it could have happened. I plan to save Torrviol, whatever it takes. It’s my second home. It’s just… it’s not going to happen this cycle.” She looked up at the sky.

Sire Nurea followed her gaze to the moon above, then looked back. In a flash, she pulled out her gun and pointed it at Mirian. The guard by Bainrose started and drew his own pistol, leveling it at Nurea.

The guard, Nurea, and Nicolus all started talking at once.

The guard said, “Sire, please put the gun away,” while Nicolus said, “Nur! What in the hells are you doing?” and Nurea said, “What if I shot you right now?”

“I told you, I’ve been shot to death a lot now. I’m used to it. Do it, and next cycle I tell you something different and see what that does. Do it too many times, and I stop interacting with you and look for someone that both takes me seriously and listens.” She said it as if she had ice in her veins, though in reality her heart was hammering. It was still too early in the cycle. She needed to see how the rest of it played out.

“Sire…” The guard approached, pistol still leveled.

Nurea snarled, and holstered her gun. “Let’s go,” she said, gesturing. When Nicolus hesitated, she said, “Now!”

Mirian watched her go. There were people like Jei, who could handle the truth. And then there seemed to be the type that couldn’t. She pondered what she would tell Nurea next time. What lie explained what she knew so that people would listen, but not despair?

***

The next round of despair came later in the afternoon. Mirian was in the Academy’s crafting area, watching Ingrid demonstrate how to better precisely cut and shape brass pieces. A great deal of the technique involved using force spells in the right spots and the gratuitous deployment of measuring sticks.

By then, another zephyr falcon had arrived, this one from Palendurio. Its miniature thunderclap had come three hours after lunch.

This time, the mayor came to her. He was flanked by two of his assistants, the one she’d seen and another she hadn’t. He also was accompanied by a Torrviol guard that she didn’t recognize. Mayor Ethwarn’s tophat was crooked and his doublet rumpled. This time, he looked scared.

“Tell me about what happened,” Mirian said.

“It… it happened like you said. But why would—I’ve met the governor! He’s a fine man. A fine man. Why would he order…? Something’s wrong.”

“It is,” Mirian assured him. “The army group in Akana Praediar was going to attack Persama, but now, just as it’s ready to depart, it coincidentally has a new target. There’s a lot of bad luck involved in our predicament, but it seems suspicious to me. Tell me more about the massacre. I only know what I read in the papers.”

It came spilling out of Ethwarn, while one of his aides shifted uncomfortably. A small crowd had gathered, and listened in.

Rumor had it that Lord Governor Quintus Palamas, patriarch of the powerful Palamas family, had ordered the extermination of the Akanan embassy. The entire thing had been burned to the ground, the fire so intense it had blackened most of the bodies beyond recognition. The few people who had made it out, shouting about a conspiracy, had been cut down in the streets in front of crowds of people. The attackers had been wearing the uniforms and armored masks of the Palendurio Guard. They had then retreated to the governor’s mansion. Another rumor spread that the governor was dead, maybe in retaliation, or maybe assassins had gotten to him first. Then there were whispers that Akanan merchants were planning on burning down warehouses, including the grain warehouses. Several merchants had been either driven out of town or beaten to death as fear of food shortages ignited mobs. There were clashes of mercenaries and crowds at the docks.

Mirian let the story run through her mind again, trying to memorize the details. Then she dug out a pile of battle map copies she and Lily had made, and said, “Order the maintenance crews to prepare to repair the tracks to Carinmouth. I’ve already sent a copy of the Akanan battle plan to Fort Aegrimere, but I have more copies here. You might want to send them another one, marked with the seal of your office. Tell them you got it off one of the spies, perhaps. I’m not a strategist, I barely know anything about the military, but I imagine if you know exactly how they attack, it will be easier to fight back. And raise a militia. We will be badly outnumbered, so everyone who can fight will be needed. The evacuation of Torrviol will have to go by road. There’s banebriars and frost scarabites along the trail, so you’ll need teams to clear a path to the river.”

When the mayor left, Ingrid stared at her. “Why are you really here?” she finally asked.

“To learn from you.”

“What do you need artifice for? You know the future.”

“That’s right. I know in the future, I’ll need to be better at artifice.”

The older woman’s gaze continued to bore into her. “You don’t think we’re going to stop them?”

“I know we’re not going to stop them. Not this time. But for me, there will be a next time. You all—you’ll just forget.”

That sent a shiver through Ingrid. She suddenly turned and walked away. So did several other people in the crowd. Scaring people isn’t going to work. Already, it was becoming clear there were people who simply couldn’t handle what the future held. But how else should she talk about it? She needed people to know the scope of the problem, or they might think they could just put it off. Would things go any better if she lied to them?

After that, word seemed to spread quickly that Mirian was more than just some student. As she left the crafting center, people were already looking at her differently. She wondered what she was supposed to do. In most of the previous loops, people had just ignored her. Now, they all watched her, but she was equally alienated from them.

She headed back to the grove to be alone with her thoughts. Jei found her there, simply contemplating the wilderness.

“They finally made their decision,” her mentor said.

“Who?” Mirian asked.

“All the wizards and magi on the project. They’ve agreed to show you.”

Mirian looked at her and stood, excitement building as she realized what Jei was talking about.

“The project we’ve been working on. The one beneath Bainrose. The one behind the stone doors.” She smiled. “Are you ready?”