In the lavishly furnished room, a small device sat upon the polished wood table. The floating, spinning, metal discs within the contraption regularly tapped together lightly as they progressed up and down through the glass casing. The metronomic clinking caused the panes of the cantilevered windows to vibrate. The whole room was hushed, all other sounds drowned out by the device. Above a rug on the floor a man hovered just off the ground, his legs crossed beneath him, eyes closed, his breathing almost imperceptible.
The man had shiny, curly black hair that bushed out on top of his head in perfect ringlets, and his youthful face was rounded and plump. His clothes were fine fitting over his thin frame, spun of the finest gold and burgundy silks. He rarely wore traditional wizard robes; he appreciated his fluidity of movement afforded by his trousers and wrap shirt. Barely aware of his surroundings, he focused his mind’s eye on a nearby locket that was orbiting his head.
“That’s it” an older wizard murmured from the corner, “Pick apart each thread of the enchantment.”
The balding mentor peered out at his young pupil from dark sunken eyes. He also focused on the rotating locket, sensing each unique movement his apprentice was performing. The construction of the locket’s enchantment was intricate and highly inventive, the perfect example for their lesson.
The young man’s brow creased with a frown as he attempted to separate the tangled web of magic that enshrouded the locket. Suddenly, with a smirk, he caused the locket to pop open.
The older wizard in the corner sprang into action. Casting out a hand, he uttered sinister incantations at a billowing cloud of darkness that had begun to pour from the locket.
The apprentice also fell to the ground, suddenly aware of the roiling mass of evil spilling from the locket. He scrambled away on his hands and feet as his mentor guided the inky substance toward the clicking device on the table.
A sudden knock at the door was like thunder in the quiet room and the young man gave the other a questioning look.
“What do I do?”
“Such bad timing!” the older wizard now had both hands out, manipulating the entity into the glass casing of the device. His gray robes billowed out around him with unseen forces and his tongue poked out of his mouth as he used considerable effort to continue his work.
The knock sounded again and this time the young man stood and placed himself between the door and the device, never taking his eyes from the black mass. The inky substance of the shade was now pouring into the glass casing, the constant clicking of the metal discs lulling it into complacency.
“Open up! We’ve been sent by the Lady Talovien!” A gruff voice called from the outer hall as he continued to hammer on the door.
“Would you stop that banging!” the older wizard roared as he finished forcing the shade into its new home. The apprentice reached out and quickly sealed the top of the device with the hinged dome that snapped into place.
“You could have told me there was a shade inside!” the young man panted.
“And you should have sensed it!” his mentor gave him a raptor glare before wiping his sweaty palms on his gray robes.
The wizard straightened himself, applied his serene mask of indifference to his face, then moved to the door. As the large wooden panel slid aside, a burly Bastion guard stood in the dimly lit passage adorned in golden armor, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“Are you Elder Wavras?”
“I am,” the wizard replied.
“Please, sir,” the soldier shifted awkwardly, “I am to escort you to the Lady Talovien.”
“By all means, just a moment…”
The Elder made a gesture toward his young apprentice. Again, the young man looked confused, but then quickly realized what was expected of him. The novice began sweeping around the room, gathering various trinkets, powders, and potions into a fine leather bag which he fastened with the leather cord, before he made his way to the door.
“Of course, Novice Drakken may join me?” the elder indicated the young man lugging his large bag around.
“If you please,” the guard grumbled, “but we must hurry.”
“Lead the way.”
Elder Wavras followed the guard out of the winding stone halls of the Wizard’s College and up the road toward the Alliance Keep. He was surprised Lady Talovien had personally summoned him; he was positively intrigued by what she could possibly want.
Marius Drakken followed silently behind the others his pointed ears twitching beneath his mass of curly black hair. He could sense the magic in the air and the scent of blood on the breeze. Many spells had been cast recently up near the keep. As a half-elf, Marius found the detection of magic came quite naturally, but understanding all of magic’s nuances would take many more years of study. He felt very fortunate to be under the tutelage of such a gifted wizard as Elder Wavras.
Heran Wavras was considered an expert on identifying and isolating different forms of magic. He was one of the few alive to read the collected works of the dark wizard Arganon and study the vile magics he performed. Heran for years had advocated that the best defense against the darkness was a clear understanding about how it worked. The Wizard’s College had even allowed him to take a pilgrimage to the abandoned keep, where Arganon once lived in, North of Caiman’s Folly. The road had been treacherous and much of the magic there still gave Heran nightmares, but the information and knowledge he discovered was astonishing.
Most wizardly scholars idolized the works of Breakwhite or Noxremis, studying the highly structured and carefully crafted rules and guidelines for magic. But in Arganon’s work, Heran had glimpsed a fluidity that transformed magic into an artform. He had even grown to admire the dark wizard’s genius. What if there were no limitations to magic’s potential? Arganon held that there was no greater power than bending all life and, if necessary, death to serve your own will.
Heran Wavras never felt the empty craving for power as Arganon, no contempt for his fellow man, but he did learn a new appreciation for seeing things from a different perspective. The world was not neat, orderly, or structured and neither was magic.
Heran let out a shocked gasp as they reached the Mythic Gardens and Marius almost dropped the bag he was carrying. The Mythic Gardens were in flames, charred craters in the earth and crumbling stone where once it had been smooth and pristine. Dead soldiers were scattered everywhere, limbs missing, hair and flesh scorched to the bone. Nearly every rare magical plant was dead or burning. The cost of procuring these rare species again would likely cost as much as building a new keep.
The traces of magic assaulted Marius’ senses and a tear rolled down his cheek as he took in the horror of the sight before him. He turned away to wretch several times but managed to keep his breakfast from resurfacing.
Elder Wavras ignored his apprentice, his expression grave as he took in the destruction. His critical eye was already assessing every spell that was cast. He could see the mark of necromancy in the rapid decay of the plants. There was also evidence of power and strength beyond that of most mortals. Most intriguing was the arched stonework that served as a portal to the inner council chamber, he immediately set off in that direction.
“Wait…” the guard escorting them made to stop the elder, but Heran didn’t even acknowledge him as he made his way forward.
Realizing his master had left, Marius quickly followed.
The great stone arch was in perfect condition, but each of the five seals that surrounded the portal had been shattered. Heran leaned down and dragged a finger through the crumbled dust and tasted it on the tip of his tongue. He snapped his fingers toward Marius without looking in the boy’s direction.
“Winnowed bone meal.”
Marius quickly set the bag down and fished around for the requested item. He knew not to interrupt or question any order when his master was in such a focused state. Finding the correct item, he held out the flask of off-white powder that was sealed by a cork stopper.
Heran pulled the stopper and took a pinch of bone dust, closing his eyes he whispered incantations as he sprinkled the bit of powder over one of the broken seals. Both wizards could see the slight shimmer as the powder drifted through the air leaving sparkles of red light reflecting at them.
“That’s impossible,” Heran mused as he rubbed the slight stubble on his chin.
“I present the Lady Talovien of the High Council of Wizards,” the guard suddenly spoke, catching up to his charges.
Marius made to bow to the stunning woman in a flowing dress that reminded him of seaweed swaying in crystal clear water, but Elder Wavras shoved the flask of bone meal back into his hands along with the stopper.
“Put that away, please.”
While Marius fumbled and tried not to spill the open container, Heran stood to greet the one that had summoned them.
“Lady Talovien,” Heran bowed deeply, “How may the Wizard’s College be of service?”
“Is it true you can isolate and track a wizard’s magic?”
“I have achieved such a feat,” Heran nodded, “If the signature of the magic is distinct enough.”
“I see you’ve noticed their point of entry,” Talovien motioned to the archway, “How is such a thing possible when the seals were in place?”
“This archway existed before the wizard’s commandeered it for their own purposes,” Heran explained, “It served as a convenient egress point from the Oratorium when the keep was constructed but before that it was part of a network of Hidden Paths.”
Here, Heran paused to give the fine Lady a reproachful look.
“But you already knew that,” Heran continued, a smug smile touching the corners of his mouth.
Marius swallowed nervously at the silent exchange between the two powerful people. Talovien’s jaw tightened with distaste, biting back all the things she wanted to say.
“And what of the seals?” she finally asked, “Even were the Hidden Paths to be open, which they have not, we’ve been assured by the Wizard’s College that these seals were unbreakable.”
“No seal is unbreakable,” Heran looked with concern back at the broken seals, “But it took considerable power and blood magic.”
Marius stifled a surprised cry at the mention of blood magic. The Wizard’s College had taught him early on that there was nothing more dangerous and unstable than the use of blood magic. Once a wizard used such vile practices, their soul was permanently tainted.
“That’s not possible,” Talovien also looked alarmed, her iron exterior momentarily shattered.
“You have no idea,” Heran nodded grimly as he studied the broken seals. He recognized the signature of this magic right away, but he dared not give voice to the notion. The thoughts whirling through Heran’s mind were terrifying but also exciting. He had to know more.
“So, can you track the ones responsible for all of this devastation?” Talovien asked, “The guards cannot track them, and we’ve activated snares throughout the Bastion and the surrounding city. There has been no trace of them since this initial incursion.”
“And how long did you wait to summon me?” Elder Wavras cast an irritated look to the Lady.
“They have a head start,” she replied cooly.
“What do you sense, boy?”
It took Marius a moment to realize that Elder Wavras was now looking at him. He stammered and tried to formulate any type of response, but his mouth was suddenly dry. His cheeks bloomed bright red with embarrassment.
“I get it,” Heran laid a calming hand on his pupil’s shoulder, “You’ve never seen such carnage or met someone as important as the Lady Talovien…”
“Or as beautiful!” Marius spit out and immediately wished he could turn invisible or maybe it’d be better if he suddenly winked out of existence.
Lady Talovien simply flashed a flirtatious smile of brilliantly white teeth as she relished in the novice’s obvious discomfort. Heran shook his head in frustration.
“Let those thoughts go from your mind,” the elder purred in a soothing voice, “Focus on the trouble at hand. Close your eyes and let your senses guide you.”
Marius complied. With his eyes closed, his pointed ears began to twitch again. Blood and burning, outright horror accosted his senses. He couldn’t comprehend anything beyond the screaming sounds he heard in his mind. Blood spraying from a torn throat as above there sparkled a thousand glittering stars. His eyes fluttered back open, and he realized he was crying freely, tears streaking down his cheeks.
“You’re not concentrating!” Heran growled, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice any longer, “You have to learn to see beyond all of this!”
The elder waved his arms out to indicate all the death and destruction around them. Then he indicated the sky and then with his arms out wide, perhaps the whole world.
“This is a lot to take in,” Talovien interrupted, taking pity on the young novice, “Perhaps this isn’t the best time for lessons? While your quarry is getting farther away.”
“Yes,” Heran attempted to mask his agitated expression, “Perhaps you are right.”
Elder Wavras stepped around Talovien, his hands out parallel to the ground. He moved in a shuffling crouch across the ruined gardens, stopping from time to time to wave his hands out or even pick at something on the ground. Talovien followed with interest and Marius caught up to them clutching the heavy bag. At last, they arrived at a portcullis cut into the side of the keep, whose heavy metal grating blocked the way forward.
“They went in there,” Elder Wavras pointed through the gate toward the sturdy door beyond.
“The catacombs?” Talovien sounded surprised, “Why in Neptune’s name would they go in there?”
Marius knew from his studies that the construction of the Bastion’s keep was a massive project that required great effort from all the wizards involved. They wanted the center of the city to tower above the rest and atop it all the High Council’s keep would watch over the people. The quickest way to achieve this feat was to simply build over the previous royal palace and surrounding structures. The time of kings and queens ended and that part of their history was symbolically buried beneath their glorious new future.
The former city became a dark twisting catacomb to house the noble dead. The High Councilor’s past, famous wizards, and warriors of note were all entombed beneath the keep in the remains of the old city.
“I do not know why, but I know they passed through here,” Heran pointed adamantly at the portcullis.
“There are limited exits from the catacombs,” Talovien smiled, a tension seeming to leave her shoulders, “They’ve trapped themselves!”
Lady Talovien motioned for some guards and began issuing orders to post patrols at every exit from the catacombs. She also ordered others to acquire more wizards to stand watch and place wards and snares, because they were dealing with a powerful enemy.
Heran Wavras stared through the portcullis barely aware of Talovien’s frantic orders. He should have been afraid, but he was not. Understanding that he would likely die if he went inside, he nevertheless had to know the truth. Was the magic he sensed really that of the dark wizard Arganon? He’d studied it long enough and he was able to tell the signature, taste the tang of blood magic. Could such a powerful wizard have survived nearly three hundred years? Maybe he’d been trapped inside the Hidden Paths, which were clearly open again. He feared and admired the diabolical genius of the dark wizard.
“I will go in and flush out the ones that did this,” Elder Wavras spoke to Talovien, his mind made up.
“That’s foolish,” Talovien scoffed, “We have them cornered, eventually they will have to come out of there.”
“And what if they raise the entire keep from below?” Wavras pointed out, “They clearly possess magic we cannot comprehend. I’m the only one that can effectively track them through the maze of passageways in the undercity.”
“Master,” Marius suddenly found his voice, “Please don’t do this.”
“I’m the only one who can,” Elder Wavras flashed his apprentice a warning glare; he didn’t want anyone to stop him. Marius even detected a wild hunger behind his mentor’s determined expression.
“Then you can’t go alone,” Marius found him saying and wishing he’d stop talking, “I’ll go with you.”
“You’re both mad,” Talovien glanced between them, “But you make a good point, we don’t know what we’re up against. You may pursue and investigate, but do not engage! Report back to the Council and we will make an informed decision.”
“Pursue and investigate, do not engage,” Wavras nodded in agreement. He wished Marius had not volunteered to come, the foolish boy, it would complicate matters.
Several molekin servants manned the large winch up above and the portcullis was slowly opened. Marius looked apprehensively down the dim passageway leading to the catacombs, wishing he hadn’t agreed to go inside. Heran struggled to appear somber, while his heart eagerly galloped toward this next great discovery.
