by Kim Wedlock
"Where were you?!" Petra struck him hard in the shoulder.
He looked defensively from her to Garon, who seemed almost to smile in amusement despite his usual bleak rigidity, then on to Eyila who grinned quite openly beside him. She incited another flicker of surprise with the lack of white, grey and black paint smeared across her bronze skin.
Anthis, too, appeared just as startled, for he stared at her, mouth slightly but certainly agape. His cheeks flushed as she stepped towards him, and his eyes flicked away for something else - anything else - to look at. The rosiness deepened when she embraced him just as fondly as Petra had Rathen.
Who still stared at him in expectation. "Well?"
He grappled for an explanation, but after a moment of stuttering and stammering, quite unsure where to start, Petra shoved him by the shoulder again and sighed, her fury abating to leave behind nothing but fierce relief. "Well...it's good to have you back."
"Thank you. I'm sorry if we made you worry..."
"Do you have it?"
Rathen's eyes flicked back towards Garon while Eyila moved over to hug him. He'd lost all trace of his amusement and looked distinctly dull and official again. He chose not to take his lack of concern as offence - though there was a certain shortness to the way he shrugged the bag from his shoulder and withdrew the Zi'veyn.
All eyes dropped with the weight of lead upon the small up-turned pyramid, each coloured by the shared mixture of unease and fascination the relic seemed to have a habit of invoking.
Garon was the first to pull his eyes away from it, looking instead towards Anthis. "And this is it? You're sure?"
"Positive."
He looked then to Rathen. "And--"
"They are weary." Eyila stepped in front of the inquisitor of the Hall of the White Hammer, silencing his impending flurry of questions with her stern but musical voice. Her pale eyes were no less piercing for the lack of a streak of black clay. "Perhaps we should let them rest and gather themselves. After all, they have just appeared out of nowhere, presumably by the hands of our own rescuer - which suggests they've only recently returned."
The pair spared a moment to look about themselves and notice, belatedly, that Kienza was not with them.
Petra nodded, but didn't turn towards the inquisitor despite addressing him. "Eyila's right. And I think there are a few things they should know..."
Apprehension brushed the two of them with the breeze, and Garon straightened, his air of duty rising. But instead of explaining, he strode past them, leading the way down a worn road lined on one side by trees while the other rolled into farmland. The rest followed, one at a time - Petra first, then Rathen, then Anthis and Eyila, who stared at him closely with an unreadable thoughtfulness. Anthis felt his cheeks redden and suppressed the heat as best he could until she soon nodded to herself in decision and looked away, though she kept her mysterious conclusion to herself.
They soon branched off from the road where the trees thickened and disappeared into the shadows. Rathen frowned uneasily at their haste as the perfectly good road continued to wind away through the hills, but he kept his tongue still until Garon brought them to a narrow, steep-sided river and down into a groove made flat by thirsty animals.
Food was handed out, and despite the simple but nourishing meal Kienza had provided them, neither Rathen nor Anthis declined what they were offered. Garon told them as they ate of what had transpired over the past month, starting orderly at the very beginning.
As expected, Salus had still been there when they'd escaped, searching for them in a frenzy. It was unclear whether he'd noticed the portal open and spit them out, or if he'd simply been groping in the darkness, but they had fled the area as quickly as they were able - with Garon's injured leg, a detail Petra had offered quite to his irritation. They'd stopped at a reasonable distance to wait for the two of them, but the land was buckling violently, and after an hour had passed and the world seemed to begin falling around them, they had little choice but to move on. They'd headed south towards the nearest settlement, assuming that it was still standing, but Kienza had appeared out of thin air long before they were able to find out.
In the blink of an eye, she had teleported them all the way to Turunda and out from beneath the watchful eyes of the Arana's hunters, where she had then healed the worst of their injuries. She hadn't seemed surprised by the news of where they'd been, but she'd been clearly distracted, lost in thought, and said little but to ask where the two of them were. When they'd explained, she said she'd guessed as much, but when they asked if there was anything she could do, she'd fallen silent again. When she'd finished with her healing spells, she'd told them to head towards Fendale, gave them some food, and left. Her quiet alarm had exacerbated their own.
Their sudden return to Turunda had allowed them to evade the Arana's notice, granting them some degree of freedom, so they headed north from somewhere south of White Rapids towards Fendale, stopping to gather information on Salus's actions wherever they could along their way. But such was, of course, hard to come by. And though Eyila had remained hidden outside of settlements, and the others had replaced or covered their garments, they couldn't avoid the eyes of everyone and were soon pursued. Garon had managed to lose them with abrupt course changes, but they could never know when they'd picked up a new tail.
"Otherwise," Garon finished, with a whisper of defeat, "we've uncovered next to nothing about what Salus is up to. Not that that's a surprise. But we'll find something, one way or another - and with your return, we have the Zi'veyn, at least. We can return our focus to the magic in the mean time."
"It's gotten worse, hasn't it?" Anthis asked, turning away from the water as he washed the last of the cut hairs from his skin, but the quick looks exchanged among the three answered his question long before Garon could nod.
Petra looked hesitantly between the two of them. "What...happened in there? Why didn't you follow us?"
"The, uh...place was collapsing." Rathen turned his eyes away. "The magic gave way."
"But why?"
He became suddenly engrossed in the surface of the passing water. "When I...cancelled out the spell protecting the Zi'veyn...I...upset the local balance. I didn't trigger any of the traps, I just...destabilised the surrounding magic. And with the whole place rearranging itself on a whim, the door had moved - we would have followed, but I couldn't risk using my magic to find it so quickly, so I had to..." He paused, feeling Anthis's eyes on him. He cleared his throat, watched a passing piece of driftwood, then looked up at last with glassy eyes. "Well, it took a while, but I located it eventually and here we are."
"You were in there for--"
"A month. We know."
"What did you do for all that time?"
The pair looked away from each other. "We worked through Eizariin's scrolls."
"Eizariin's scrolls? You did?"
Rathen's expression flattened. "I did what I could. That's also why it took a while."
"I don't understand."
He leaned over and fished about in the bag for a moment, then withdrew a scroll nowhere near as aged as they'd expected, unrolled it and presented it to them. It was covered in illegible writing, slender lettering with angles just a little too harsh, and multiple inkblots. It had been written in a hurry. And recently. "It seems," he said as Anthis took it with a frown, "that Eizariin had set us a task that went beyond retrieving the Zi'veyn."
All eyes lingered expectantly, and the young historian soon shook his head, his frown growing in awe. "Destroying Khryu'vahz..." He looked towards the mage with even more astonishment. "You did this?"
"You don't remember?" Petra frowned, but his eyes flicked quickly away from her in shame.
"There won't be any more magic leaking out of that place," Rathen declared, sparing him her scrutiny. "I can assure you of that. Khry's Glory imploded behind us." He glanced towards Anthis who regarded him again in shock, no doubt for having been able to read the elf's hand at all, hurried scribblings or not, l
et alone for casting the spell it described. It was, no doubt, only the threat of incriminating himself again that prevented him from voicing his surprise.
"What about the Zi'veyn?" Garon asked. "Have you made any progress?"
"I couldn't risk casting any more spells in there, but I had plenty of time to analyse it."
"And? Can you repair it?"
Rathen took it again from the bag and held it out before them all. He didn't notice himself sit taller in pride. "It's already done."
"What?"
"Well we've been out for two days--"
"No, I mean are you sure it's done?"
Rathen's posture deflated. "I...well I've not tried to use it, if that's what you mean, but Kienza couldn't detect anything wrong with it."
"So, in short, no. You're not sure."
His lip curled. "How I've missed you, Garon. No. I'm not sure. But I've spent a month analysing it, thoroughly probing it, and through no small effort, all the links have been repaired. I can see how it works, perfectly."
Petra's hand reached slowly out towards it, lured by fascination. Rathen handed it over with surprising ease and heard Anthis stifle some kind of noise, unintelligible even had it been released. "How does it work?"
"The elves perceived their magic as its own being," he explained just as easily, "something alive, not owned, just like the tribes do. The elves may have been arrogant, but that perception wouldn't have changed, it's too fundamental a thing in their culture, a physical truth. And after Eyila explained to me how she perceives her magic and helped me make the water in Ut'hala turn blue, I started to grasp the concept. It's almost like symbiosis; magic forms and resides within them - within us - and we are able to use it. It moves on its own, willingly; we have no control over it. We can't force it to multiply any more than we can stop it from forming.
"The Zi'veyn, however, can, but only because it is external, separate from the magic and the caster, and its spell is immensely complicated, uncastable by any individual in any single moment. Magic is formed in the heart, but the Zi'veyn doesn't affect the organ. For it to be viable as a weapon, it would need to be immediately effective, so there's no use halting the production of the magic by affecting the heart and leaving whatever is already in the blood. So it halts the magic itself." He withdrew another scroll and pointed to two neat and anciently scripted words. "'Suspend' and 'particle', or 'fragment'," he read. He didn't glance towards Anthis, who hadn't translated them quite so precisely, but had at least given him what he'd needed to muddle through. "It picks out the motes of magic in the bloodstream and suspends them while the blood continues to flow past it. This renders the magic - and only the magic - unusable, and highly vulnerable."
"It sounds very..." Petra pulled a sceptical face, "precise."
"Yes, but it's not about picking out minuscule details one by one. Magic is very nearly its own element, its construction is that unique, and the Zi'veyn itself uses elemental magic, almost. The spell has been designed to touch things only like itself: magic, in any form. In any setting."
"Even outside of blood..."
"Exactly."
"...And it works?"
He glanced towards Eyila. "I presume so, but only against elven magic. Elven magic is formed in an elven heart, perfectly suited to one another, whereas human magic is formed in a human heart with elven adaptations - the third ventricle - without the...physical essence of the elf to influence its formation. Human magic is..." his lip curled in personal offence, "impure. It won't react the same way."
"It will not work on me," she concluded without insult. "You are half elven - would it work on you?"
"To a degree; not completely..."
"Then it will not work on Salus."
Rathen straightened "No." He looked at Garon critically, who himself had straightened at the impending question. "What did he mean when he said he doesn't need the Zi'veyn?"
"We don't know, but we presume he has plans."
"And he's not been giving out orders himself?"
"It seems not, but my contacts are not among the Arana's ranks, so anything we uncover is second- or third-hand, or completely untrue."
"And you base your work on their word?" Petra scoffed, drawing a flicker of interest from Rathen and Anthis. But Garon didn't seem troubled by her subtle yet directed venom.
"I've learned to identify a lead worth pursuing. And I believe them. Salus's orders are being given by proxy."
"So he can work on his plans, no doubt, whatever they are. Or train his magic...he's likely growing more adept every day..." Rathen sighed dubiously. "And you have no idea what he's up to?"
"Nothing beyond assumptions; nothing at all we can act upon."
A rustle on the opposite bank reined the tense conversation to a halt. A water vole scurried out along a projection beneath the overhang and vanished among the reeds.
Rathen's dark eyes dragged back onto the inquisitor. "You say you've been pursued. By the Arana?"
"Presumably."
"Only them?"
"...I hope so."
"The elves would know where we are," Petra reminded them, just as quietly. "It would be no trouble for them to locate us, reach us and abduct us, or destroy us. And they haven't."
"Perhaps they were waiting for us. Without the Zi'veyn, you three are no threat."
"Why would they think any of us were a threat?"
"Our recovery of the Zi'veyn could be enough to undo every effort their ancestors have made to conceal their past from their descendants," Anthis suggested, his eyes still scouring the far bank. "While I don't think Eizariin shares in the sentiment, he's made it clear that Tekhest and her followers would take any means to preserve ignorance in order to prevent their history from repeating itself."
"Tekhest has a darkness inside her," Rathen agreed. "I wouldn't want to find out what 'means' were within her reach."
"Of course, it's also possible that they were uninformed at the time Eizariin sent us on our way. If they know now that we have the Zi'veyn - as you say, it would be no trouble for them to find us, nor to spy on us from a distance - then surely they also know what we intend to do with it. And we've destroyed Khryu'vahz. They could conclude that we're handling their ancestors' mistake for them, slowly but surely, without the need for them to step in and reveal themselves to the world nor their past to their younger. If they leave us alone, they can continue to disown their responsibility."
"Unfortunately," Rathen sighed, "not even Garon's contacts can enlighten us. Whatever the case, we should keep our eyes open. We have the Zi'veyn; we're safe from them."
"Assuming you can use it. Understanding how it works and making it work are two different things."
"We will find out soon enough." Petra rose tightly at another rustle from the bank and snatched up the bags as the water vole hurried again about its business. "Fendale's been ruined by magic. If we continue as we were, we'll arrive tomorrow morning and you can try it then."
Rathen and Anthis looked about them as the others followed her lead, searching for any distinguishing landmarks in the compact, unremarkable forest. "Where exactly are we?"
"Mosshorn."
They moved quickly and quietly, suddenly uneasy, throwing glances over their shoulders for movement in the shadows. Only Garon didn't seem to succumb, his sights set calmly on their path through the trees.
Rathen moved up beside him, rubbing his raw but hairless cheek. "How is Eyila?" He asked quietly, though she was too distracted to overhear. "There's a shadow of something in her eyes that I don't like."
Garon nodded slightly. "She's improved since we left Dolunokh; she's cogent, but she's not perfect. And she's still haunted by what happened to her people. She withdraws into herself often, and from time to time it looks as though she can see or hear something the rest of us can't. It's hard to tell when she's lost in thought or when she's affected by magic. Kienza did nothing for her, but there may not have been anything she could."
"If there was, she'd have
done it. The elf did warn us that she'd be affected if she went in there, but it was so much more concentrated than I'd expected. I doubt there's any way of knowing if it was just the potency, or if she's just as vulnerable as those few in the Order." He glanced towards him, then looked nonchalantly off to the side. "The magic has gotten worse, you say. Has the Order?"
"In regards to mages losing control of themselves, I don't believe the rate has changed."
Now he frowned, and looked openly towards him. "'In regards' - Garon, what else has happened?" He watched the inquisitor's face remain conspicuously unchanged, and quickly drew his own conclusion. He paled. "No..."
Unfortunately, Garon nodded. "The Order has now truly rebelled. Four weeks ago the populace finally broke, began rioting, and groups of mages began actively standing against them. The first attack was in Orton - one mage struck out, obliterated the tavern, the high street and the western gate. No one was killed, but since then groups have followed his lead, and they're organised." He rolled his left shoulder, an absent habit. "We witnessed an attack in Stonbridge a couple of weeks ago. A group of mages - about four or five - stole casks from the tavern and spread their contents around the square, then set them alight. The flames grew quickly, but they enhanced them with their magic and started to control them. The watermill burned down, as did their grain stores. The tavern, I think, was an accident, but none of them tried to correct it." His lip curled, his shoulder rolled again, and there was, for a moment, a clear presence of shame and disgust, for himself and for the mages, in his grey eyes. "The flames were... People were hurt. And we could do nothing. Even had we not been concerned with being hunted, we couldn't have stood against five mages. We couldn't even risk bringing Eyila in to heal anyone."
They walked in silence, consumed by thought, until Garon spoke up again, his voice suddenly unaffected. "Why didn't Anthis follow us out?"