by C. A. McHugh
When he finished dressing and opened the door again, he noticed Leandros had joined Nyssa.
His best friend leaned against the wall, his eyes half closed. “Why do we have to get started so early?” he asked.
Nyssa light-heartedly shoved Leandros off the wall. “Just ignore him. When I tried to wake him, he started throwing things at me. It took me nigh on twenty minutes to get this lazy sloth out of bed. Thankfully, you were already up.” She tugged at his hand. “Let’s go.”
“Only Nyssa would be thrilled at the idea of spending an entire day locked inside the Royal Archives pouring over thousands of ancient, dusty documents,” Leandros grumbled behind them. “I can think of half a dozen other things I would rather be doing, like fencing training.”
Or launching my own investigation into the Raven Bringer’s whereabouts, Aerrin added to himself. The conversation with Master Binnius this morning raised more questions than it answered. He was used to the old wizard being cryptic, but the fact the headmaster would leave his side after confirming a personal encounter with the Raven Bringer made him worry that something more was going on than just a freak snowstorm.
Just one more thing for him to worry about as king.
At least the first thing on his agenda was already being tackled. If they could translate the strange writing in Seroney’s letter, they might finally be able to determine if she was a threat. Based on her reaction to the letter, the news it contained was anything but pleasant. But since she’d disappeared from the Academy shortly after she collapsed, he hadn’t had a chance to question her. And his brief encounter with the headmaster this morning hadn’t allowed him time to glean any clues to her whereabouts.
Too many questions. Not enough answers. Only the knowledge that his kingdom was under attack from the very fiend who’d killed his parents.
The moment the door to the vaults opened, Nyssa squealed with excitement and ran past the shelves holding the more modern books. Once she reached the oldest part of the archives, she immediately began unrolling the dusty, centuries-old scrolls.
Aerrin, however, faced the first in a series of rooms containing thousands of musty documents and immediately felt overwhelmed.
One glance at Leandros confirmed his friend felt the same way. “It is going to be a very long day,” he said dryly.
Aerrin nodded. It would be just one of many if he wanted to accomplish everything on his agenda during his brief time in the capital.
***
Nyssa rolled up another scroll and returned it to its proper slot. Two days and nothing. She could’ve sworn that she’d seen a scroll with the strange writing on it once before. But in which room? And which shelf?
It still bothered her a bit that she was investigating her roommate. Over the past few months, Nyssa had developed a sort of love-hate relationship with Seroney. Just when she felt herself warming up to the girl who shared rare books and magical tips, she was reminded that Seroney managed to get the highest score on the first set of challenges. At least with Seroney’s disappearance the morning of the last set of challenges, Nyssa was assured the top spot in their class once again.
A bit of guilt dampened her joy. Yes, it was nice to be known as the most powerful student in their class, and it would certainly help her when it came time to choose a master mage to apprentice under at the end of the year, but when she remembered how pale Seroney became when she read the letter, she couldn’t deny the pity she felt for her roommate.
She stared down at the piece of parchment in her hand. This letter was obviously written in some sort of code or language that was meant to conceal the contents from a normal reader. Whatever the contents were, they weren’t pleasant. What kind of trouble were they inviting by translating it? And did they have any connection to the Raven Bringer’s return?
Aerrin was adamant that it did and wanted it translated as soon as possible. He searched through the scrolls with the determined fervor of a man on a mission until he’d been called away yesterday to deal with the court less than an hour into their search. She knew he would much rather be down here than dealing with a bunch of brown-nosing, whining nobles, but that was cost of being a king, she supposed. And based on her previous run-ins with members of the court—who had no problems looking down their noble noses at her and even insulting her to her face when Aerrin wasn’t around—she was more than happy to hide away in the archives once again.
At least she’d gotten Leandros to finally come downstairs after bribing him with an offer to again help prepare for the next set of challenges. He’d barely passed the last ones and needed all the help he could get. Of course, he hadn’t done much of anything since arriving in the archives. Currently, he was snoring loudly in the corner, drooling on one of the scrolls.
Outrage throbbed through her veins. How dare he damage something so precious! She marched over to him and pulled his head up by his straw-colored hair, yanking the scroll out from under him.
Leandros cried out in pain, only to thump his face against the table after she released him. He rubbed the back of his head. “What did you do that for?”
Nyssa shoved the scroll in his face to make sure he saw the area that had been soaked by his drool and the ink that had been smeared. “See what you did?”
“It’s just an old scroll.”
Just an old scroll? Nyssa’s blood boiled. “All of these scrolls contain valuable information about the kingdom. If any one of them is damaged, that is information that will be lost to us forever.”
Leandros laid his head back on the table. “I’m going back to sleep. Wake me if you find anything interesting.”
She wanted to pummel the wits out of him, but she refrained from doing so after a few calming breaths. He needed all the brain cells he could get. Besides, he had an excuse for being so tired. He’d been up most of the night before, enjoying the festivities leading up to the Longest Night and drinking heavily. And probably flirting with some brainless twit instead of helping her solve the riddle of Seroney’s letter. After all, helping Aerrin find out what it said was far more important that entertaining some court tramp. Lives could depend on it, especially if it revealed that Seroney was connected to the Raven Bringer.
His snores only added to her irritation, so she decided to move to the next room before she gave in to her violent urges. As much as he drove her crazy, he had managed to instill some little soft spot in her heart for him through his loyalty and friendship over the years.
Nyssa adjusted the light of her reading lantern to illuminate the farthest room of the archives. A good smattering of dust covered everything inside. No one had been in here for months, maybe even years. Her body tingled with anticipation. This was where she would find the scroll with the strange writing on it. She was sure of it. She placed her lantern on a table and used the hem of her tunic to wipe away the thick dust from the surface of the nearest scroll.
The hours crawled by without success. Nyssa began to think she had dreamed up the scroll, that perhaps it had been a figment of her imagination. Frustrated, she shoved another scroll back into its slot and reached for the one high on a shelf above it.
At first glance, she wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her, a punishment for the hours she’d spent reading document after document. She blinked several times until the letters came into focus. No, this wasn’t a delusion. It was a whole other set of letters. She scanned its contents, her pulse faster with each line she uncovered written in the strange language.
She whooped in celebration and rushed to the table to completely unroll the scroll and compare it with the writing in Seroney’s letter.
Leandros appeared in the doorway, a yawn splitting his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I found it.” She grinned as he ran to her side. The top of the scroll was completely written in the strange writing, and the bottom was written in their own, human, language. Nyssa skimmed the bottom half. “It’s a contract between the tribe of Darvignon and a group of elves. By the goddess, t
his dates back from before the kingdom was even formed.”
“Forget that! That strange writing is Elvish?”
She suddenly understood the implications of what he’d just said. Seroney’s letter was written in Elvish, a language that had vanished from the kingdom centuries ago when the Great Divide was created to separate the humans of Elgeus from the non-human races on the other side. How could Seroney read it? Where did she learn Elvish?
Nyssa’s head was swimming with questions, and none of them made much sense. She sank into her chair, eyeing the ancient scroll.
“I’m going to get Aerrin,” Leandros said as he bolted for the doorway. “He won’t believe this.”
Nyssa snapped back to reality. “He’s holding court in his throne room. He can’t just up and leave because you go running in there to drag him away.”
“He’s the king. He can dismiss the court whenever he wants. Besides, I know he’ll want to see this.” Leandros vanished before she could argue more.
Nyssa took a moment to calm herself. Elvish? What a wonderful, yet intimidating discovery.
She reread the contract and began to recognize certain patterns of markings that matched words in Seroney’s letter. Each marking was a letter, and based on what she had before her, she might be able to match each Elvish word with its corresponding word in the human language. The difficulty would be in translating the words from Elvish that didn’t readily match. She rubbed her temples. This was going to be a long process, one that could take weeks. It was time they couldn’t spare.
She pulled out a few more scrolls from the same shelf and hoped they might confirm her hypothesis that this was indeed Elvish. The first three scrolls were completely written in the strange language. It was slightly reassuring to find more documents in the language, but without a translation, they were useless to her.
Nyssa shoved them back into the slots, only to meet with resistance this time.
Odd.
She dragged a chair over to the shelves and climbed up with a lantern to get a better look. The thick dust tickled her nose and threatened to trigger a sneezing fit as she slid the scrolls aside. There, wedged in the very far recesses of the shelf, lay a metal chest the size of a book.
Nyssa had just pulled it out when Aerrin and Leandros found her. It was heavier than she’d expected, causing her pulse to race once again. The chest was made of silver that had tarnished to black, but the embossed design reminded her of the artwork on Seroney’s chest.
One more clue, perhaps. One more connection.
“What do you have there?” Aerrin asked.
She showed them the chest. “A hidden treasure, I hope.” When she tried to open it, though, she discovered the lock was fully functional and engaged.
“Let me take a look at that.” Leandros studied the lock and set the chest on the table. He pulled a small set of tools out of his pocket. “It’s a bit antiquated, but should be easy enough to pick.”
While Leandros finally made himself useful, Nyssa showed Aerrin the scroll with the treaty written in both languages. “If my conjectures are correct, then Seroney knows a language that’s been dead in this kingdom for almost five centuries.”
Aerrin’s eyes widened as he read it. “Nyssa, please tell me this is some sort of prank Leandros is pulling on me.”
“I wish I could, Aerrin, but as you can plainly see, the writing is similar.” She laid Seroney’s letter next to the scroll for comparison. “The lettering is almost identical. And if what I’m inferring is correct—that this treaty was written in both our language and Elvish—then Seroney’s letter was written in Elvish, too.”
Aerrin rubbed his chin. The line furrowed in his brow told Nyssa he was trying to remain calm and analytical about this finding instead of jumping to absurd conclusions—a stark change from his behavior toward Seroney so far. “It just seems preposterous. I mean, the only place I can think of where Elvish could be in use would be Oudesta.”
“And we all know that no one can cross the Divide.” Leandros grunted as he pulled on the small tool lodged in the chest’s keyhole. “Too many cases of people going into those mountains and never being seen again.”
“That just means they never came back to Elgeus,” Nyssa countered. “For all we know, they could’ve made it into Oudesta and liked it so much, they stayed.”
“Maybe so, but on the flip side, I’ve never heard of anyone coming into Elgeus from Oudesta.” Leandros yanked the tool out and tried a different one. “And this lock is trickier than it looks.”
“Have you tried a detect magic spell on it?” she asked.
Leandros’s mouth fell open for a moment before an embarrassed cough closed it. “No, but I’ll give it a try.”
He cast the spell, and a dim blue light emanated from the lock.
“Break the spell first before you try to pick it.” She grinned and added, “And pray it’s not cursed.”
Leandros grumbled something, but started casting a counter-spell.
Nyssa turned her attention back to Aerrin, who still stood in front of the scrolls with his chin in his hand. “It raises too many questions,” he said at last.
“We all knew she was odd.”
“But what if she’s not from Elgeus? What if she’s from the other side of the Divide? Is she a spy? An enemy?” He picked up the letter and stared at it as though he might be able to decipher the cryptic writing from pure willpower. “It’s more important than ever to find out what this says. Nyssa, do you think you’ll be able to translate it?”
Could she? She nibbled on a strand of her hair. This wasn’t going to be easy based on the limited resources she had. It might take her days to figure out the corresponding words based on the treaty, and even then, there could be words she couldn’t translate. But at least her stay in Dromore wouldn’t be boring. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you.” Aerrin wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
“Yeah, thanks, Nyssa,” Leandros added, making no effort to hide his relief at being freed from his obligations within the vault. “Oh, and if you don’t stop chewing on your hair, you’ll get a hairball like Seroney’s cat.”
She wanted to hurl the nearest object at Leandros. Unfortunately, there was nothing within reach that she would risk damaging on his hard head. Instead, she jabbed at him with words. “Still struggling with that simple lock?”
“It would be easier without all the constant nagging.” He gave another grunt, and blue sparks flew from the lock. “Spell’s broken. Now, on to step two.”
In less than a minute, the lock clicked and gave way.
Nyssa rushed to his side to see what treasure the chest housed.
Leandros’s hazel eyes gleamed with excitement, too, only to dim when he threw back the lid to reveal an old leatherbound book. “Oh, come on. There should at least be something of value hiding behind all those locks.”
Nyssa snatched the book from him before he did something to damage it. “Those of us with some semblance of intelligence would see the value in this.”
“Then prove it.” Leandros leaned back in a chair and propped his feet up on the table.
Her hands shook as she opened the cover. What secrets did the book hold? The ink on the pages had long since faded from black to umber, but after reading a few lines of the messy script, her breath caught. Although it was dreadfully disorganized, the book was a homemade dictionary of Elvish. “We may have found the missing piece of the puzzle.”
Aerrin moved beside her to take a look. “It seems like someone has saved us hours of work by translating Elvish for us.”
She nodded and turned the fragile page. “It definitely helps, but I can’t help but wonder why it was hidden in that chest when it could be in a library.”
“Maybe the owner didn’t want anyone to find it?” Leandros offered.
“Or destroy it.” She delicately closed the book and traced the initials embossed on the leather cover. “G.M
.”
“Any idea who that could be?” Aerrin asked.
She shook her head. “But if I can find some time after translating the letter, I’ll look further into it. Obviously, someone thought it important to leave behind a written record of Elvish.”
“Well, have fun in the dark and dust.” Leandros rose from his chair and wrapped his arm around Aerrin’s shoulders, leading him away from the table with all the evidence they’d gathered. “We have more important matters to attend to.”
“Such as?” She could hardly imagine anything more important than figuring out the contents of Seroney’s letter, especially in light of the possibility she might not be from Oudesta.
And if that was the case, how many lies had she fed them along the way?
“To get dressed for this evening’s festivities, of course,” Leandros replied. “Last night was just the preliminary stuff. You know, dancing and feasting and flirting so you can narrow down which lady you’d like to cozy up next to in front of the bonfire.”
“Oh, I see.” The courtly games were for the nobles, not her. It was just another reminder of the wide social gap between her and her two best friends. “I suppose you two think that this party is more important than translating the letter.”
Aerrin had the good grace to wince at her accusation. “You know you’ve always been welcome to join us, Nyssa. And if you want to—”
She silenced him by shaking her head. Shame burned her cheeks as she looked down at her dust-covered, coarse woolen tunic and leggings. She knew she didn’t belong up there, despite his repeated invitations. Her clothes, her appearance, her manners—they all proclaimed she was a baseborn commoner. No, she knew from past visits she would only embarrass herself if she tried to mingle with the upper class of Dromore.
Wiping her sweaty hands on her tunic, she shook her head again, this time with more conviction. “Who wants to go to a silly party when the safety of the kingdom is at stake? One of us has to be responsible and work on the translation instead. Do you think the head librarian will let me take these documents up to my room so I can have a bit more light?”