by Kim Wedlock
"I sensed no traces," Rathen admitted.
"See, to me, that suggests that it's nothing of any value."
"Until you consider that they came to a short post-magic site, long-abandoned in the middle of nowhere even back then, and put this box in the place's storage cellar - in plain sight, you could say. No elf would think to come here, whether they were fervently looking for something or not, especially with no active spells to draw their attention. It would be completely overlooked. By hiding it here, they used their dependence on magic against them."
She sighed dubiously. "This sounds like a whole lot of conjecture..." Her eyes dropped doubtfully to the box upon the table, then back at him in kind, though there was a degree of patience in them. "What do you think it could be?"
"The arty-fact?"
He smiled sadly at the hope in Aria's voice, for he certainly shared it. Unfortunately, experience had taught him better. "I doubt it," he replied regretfully, "but if it's even remotely related, it could be the best lead I've had yet."
"Anthis."
He looked up after Rathen's commanding tone.
"Open it."
All eyes fell to the small and unassuming box. Plain and unadorned, it seemed displaced among the exquisiteness of the surrounding ceremonial relics, and Anthis suddenly found himself quite reluctant to touch it. It was only upon an encouraging but mostly impatient cough from Aria that he finally took a hold of the lid, which he lifted slowly, as though he feared something might leap out to bite him. His hesitance began to creep over the others, and they found themselves just as reluctant to look inside.
But when he set the lid down beside it and they saw nothing inside but parchment, they each shared some small degree of disappointment.
Anthis was the only one to disagree. Delicately, he lifted the first few sheets, crisp and unspoilt after seven hundred years of preservation, and scanned over their elegant, scrawling scripture. The others watched him in silence as he skimmed over one page, then the next, and as he blindly withdrew a book from his own satchel and compared something between the two before returning to the first. Anxiety rose and they watched him even closer, but his eyes were unreadable. He seemed excited, cautious, hopeful, and a touch confused.
"Anthis," Garon said at last, but though the historian shook his head and seemed about to speak, he ended up saying nothing at all, his eyes firmly glued to the parchment. Garon didn't try a second time.
Minutes passed as he sank deeper into words written by a long-dead people, and Rathen's arm soon began to ache. As Aria pushed herself tiresomely away from the table and began to look around at the rest of the chamber, he set the torch in a sconce and obediently followed. Petra followed the young girl's lead, leaving Anthis to his work, and Garon returned to the doorway to keep watch outside until the young man finally found his tongue. "I don't know."
Startled by the broken silence, they turned expectantly but found him still fixed to the pages.
"I need to look through it all properly, but...I think we might have something here..." He continued to compare sheets as the others abandoned their nosings, and glanced over an open journal that had also been within the box.
"What do you think you have?"
Anthis finally turned his pensive eyes upon the inquisitor. "Something about the artefact, that much is certain - it's mentioned a few times - but whether it's of any considerable use, I don't know. Like I said, I need to read through it all..."
"But it's useful?" Garon pressed. "Or it could be?"
"It could be quite useful..."
"But is it reliable?" Rathen asked.
He released a long, slow sigh in deliberation. "They're all notes, theories and thoughts about a few different things, but all linked by their overall intent...and this here seems to be a journal of--" He finally noticed the weight of their impatience. "Yes."
"Then why do you seem so uncertain?"
He cast Petra a shaky smile. "Because I don't dare to hope..."
"Gather it up." Garon stepped back towards the doorway and peered outside uneasily. "We've lingered here long enough and we'd do well to be away. Study it when we make camp tonight."
"No, we should stay here."
Garon glowered at his defiant tone. "Your own studies will have to wait, Anthis."
"It's nothing to do with studying these ruins," he assured him, "but with saving time."
"How?"
"Because Bowden may no longer be necessary." He glanced across the curious frowns. "If it works out that we have to turn around and retrace our steps out of here," he crossed his fingers, "then by staying put we can save time; we won't have to back-track as far."
"But if Bowden is still on the cards, by staying put we could be wasting time," Rathen countered, and all eyes followed his as he looked towards Garon for a decision.
"We stay," he said after a moment, then looked to Anthis who smiled at his easy victory. "You have the rest of the day. If you come to no conclusions that can give us a direction by nightfall, we will continue on to Bowden in the morning."
He nodded his agreement and eagerly set back to reading, the conversation forgotten regardless of further questions.
Rathen sighed heavily and followed Garon as he moved back outside to keep watch. "I don't like this," he said quietly.
"Anthis is right. The odds are high that we'll end up turning around; there's little but Bowden to the east. And if not, then we'll have lost an afternoon. You said yourself that in the scale of this place, it won't make much difference."
"That's not all I mean." He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice as Aria and Petra peered at some of the more ornate items. "I'm not happy here."
"Believe me, I can appreciate that," he sighed quietly, "I have an uneasy feeling myself, but Anthis knows what to look for. We'll be back on our way in a few hours and we can set up camp somewhere less conspicuous."
Anthis spent every last moment of that afternoon in the cramped old chamber. No one interrupted him, even as their impatience mounted, leaving him to find the answers, understanding or whatever it was he sought without hindrance in the hope that they could be away before nightfall. But there was no such luck.
"Well?" Petra asked hopefully as Rathen returned to the nook they'd found at the edge of the ruins, safe from sight by a cluster of trees and a fallen statue and bordered now by subtle, watchful spells.
He shook his head. "Nothing." He sat down heavily beside her, dropping his hand away from his upper arm and glancing around to note Garon still standing guard atop the darkened pavilion.
"You don't sound sure..."
"It's the magic," he replied, his nose wrinkling, but he offered Petra and Aria beside her an honest smile. "But I don't think anything lives here. I walked all around and checked near the cliff. There are no dens or warrens, no make-shift beds, no caves. I saw nothing to suggest anything even passes through here. This magic, or maybe the structure itself, probably discourages them."
"But you said there might be something living here," Aria reminded him, and she earned herself a flat look.
"Then this must be one of those rare times in which I am wrong."
"At least you admitted it." She grinned impishly as her father shook his head, but a frown warped her brow as she noticed a glint about Petra's neck as she chuckled between them. "What's that?" She asked, leaning over and pulling a necklace free from beneath her blouse.
"Aria," Rathen sighed wearily, "manners, you can't just--oh, never mind."
Petra released another elegant laugh, one that continued to contradict her harsh demeanour, though that, too, had begun to give way in recent days to something more approachable. She raised her hand to take back the pendant and show it to the girl herself, moving her fingers deftly through the fabric of her elongated sleeve, and again Rathen wondered at the extent of her scars. "This," she replied, turning back to Aria and opening the silver oval, "is a locket. It has a picture of my father and mother here, and my sister, Celise, here."
"It's beautiful," she smiled with enchantment. "Do you wear it because you're afraid you'll forget what they look like?"
"No," she laughed, "of course not. It's to keep them close to my heart. I don't...I don't see them as often as I'd like."
"Why not?"
"I travel a lot," she replied easily, but Rathen noticed the subtle, evasive tone, and how intensely she stared down at the pictures.
She looked back up a moment later and smiled at the girl, pushing aside the darkness that had befallen her young features, and Rathen chose not to mention it.
"I want one," Aria grinned, though a frown of disappointment quickly slipped into its place. "But I'm always with my daddy. I'm not sure there would be much point..."
"I can always leave you at home when I go to meet traders."
"No! You wouldn't dare!"
He smiled teasingly. "I was only offering you a solution."
"Well it isn't worth it."
Petra smiled at their bickering, but her gloom returned as her eyes dragged back down to the small, faded portraits. "You're not with the Order, are you?" She asked suddenly, looking up at the mage.
Rathen's surprise was replaced just as quickly by resentment. "What has Anthis said?"
"Nothing," she smiled softly, "I figured it out for myself. You sound disconnected whenever you mention it, and other mages. How did you get away from them?"
Something besides curiosity had tinged her voice, and as he noticed her touch the illustration of a young woman within her locket, he understood why. He frowned in sympathy.
"I don't like how people view my sister as a monster," she continued before he could answer. "Celise wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Believe me, I can understand your frustration. Mages aren't well-liked anywhere. People are ignorant to what we can do and how we work. But honestly, I promise you that mages in Turunda are far better off than they are anywhere else. Here we have freedom, for the most part. More freedom than most will ever see."
"You do."
Rathen flinched beneath the accusation in her eyes, but his guilt was quick to pass. "Neither of you would wish upon her what I went through for my freedom," he assured her firmly. "If you can even call it that." He folded his arms and turned a thoughtful gaze towards the black sky, the stars entirely hidden behind the swollen clouds, as was any clue of dusk. "But, if I'm honest...I do believe that mages belong with the Order. For their safety as well as everyone else's. If mages were allowed such individual freedom with the power they possess...well, I'm sure the world would be in an even sorrier state than it is. One rotten apple, and all that. The Order is, at the end of the day, a necessary evil." He nodded to himself. "The trouble comes from the cloaks."
She cocked an eyebrow. "The cloaks?"
"They draw attention, isolate the mage in crowds. They make segregation much easier - to some degree I think that's the point. But they're there for...people's safety and peace of mind." He shook his head, and she hadn't missed how unconvinced he sounded of that last, recited statement. "And that won't change. But," he offered another confident smile, "she'll be all right. Dirty looks have never killed anyone, and no one is brave enough to take it any further than that. Lack of understanding might lead to hatred and mistrust of magic, but the mystery also lends mages protection." He cocked his head as curiosity formed a crease in his brow. "What wing is she in? Your sister?"
"Military."
Rathen baulked in surprise. "Really?" He paused as he considered the nature of the woman sitting on the ruined stone tiles before him. "I suppose strength must run in the family... In that case she'll definitely be all right." A grin of amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. "'She wouldn't hurt a fly'?"
"Not if it was unarmed."
"What about midges?" Aria asked thoughtfully.
"Oh, they're certainly armed," Petra assured her, and Aria nodded in agreement. She tucked her locket away safely beneath her blouse, but paused in a wash of fear as a low rumble rose very close by. She looked first to Rathen, but he only smiled, and then to Aria, whose little cheeks had flushed red.
"You know, little one, I suppose it is about time we eat."
It was meagre, but the warm broth would at least lift a few spirits against the tense and eerie atmosphere, and the very moment Rathen reached for a bowl to begin dividing it up, Anthis stepped out from the chamber as if he was carried by his nose. He stumbled in momentary surprise as he discovered the darkness.
"Well?" Rathen asked as the historian joined them, and Garon stepped to the nearest edge of the pavilion to listen and maintain his watch, but once again, the young man was difficult to read.
"I learned a few things," Anthis began in an unidentifiable tone, "about the artefacts, and about people and places."
"And is any of it of any use to us?"
"Yes..."
"You sound uncertain again," Petra warned him. "Have you found anything useful or not?"
"Well...the artefacts are certainly separate," he began quite carefully, "which renders our initial--"
"Wait - what do you mean 'the artefacts are separate'?"
He turned his increasingly cautious eyes upon the mage and shrank a little beneath the ferocity of his gaze. "Well, context plays a big role in elven language - I've told you this before - and more times than anyone in the Historical Society would like to admit, it was thought that two or three separate things made up a full set when it was really just one item referred to in entirely different ways, other aspects and details ignored whenever they weren't relevant. Elven can be...ehh, challenging to decrypt..."
"All right," Rathen growled, doing his best to restrain his frustration as Aria reached out to calm him, "so what does this mean? In this case, it's reversed? There are multiple?"
Anthis hesitated. "...Yes - but, it does explain why what we found in Mokhan was considered a 'great magical advancement'. Being able to create a force of air out of nothing was being compared to something certainly on par, but not as grand as we thought. Being able to silence the magic of humans was clearly a feat when it was created, but with the way they lorded themselves over them, it probably made the ability to silence their magic seem like a bare essential, even if it was a new advancement. It was quickly taken for granted, just like creating that force. But rather than that comparison being made to an aspect of a certain item, it was made to a specific item in its entirety."
"So it was your misunderstanding," Garon said flatly from behind them.
Anthis turned red, though the torchlight didn't reveal it. "I'm not the only one that would have done so," he bristled.
"How can you be sure you're right about this? That you're not just misreading context again?"
He raised the sheets of parchment he'd brought out from the chamber with him and snapped them up towards him. "Because this says as much. Clearly and concisely."
"I notice you don't sound surprised by this revelation," Rathen said suspiciously. "I'd almost go as far as to say you already had an idea."
Suddenly, Anthis felt every gaze harden and bore into him from all sides, and his aggravation returned to submissive caution. "Well...I sort of did--but I never had anything to back it up with, it was just a feeling, so I didn't want to mention it. But now I know, and then some, which is why I just did."
"Anthis!"
"In short," he hurried, "we should go after the weapon, not the magic-removing artefact."
Rathen blinked as his growing exasperation faltered. "That makes no sense."
"It makes plenty of sense. The magic remover was made for use against human magic; the weapon, against elves. It should have no problem targeting elven magic, which is what we're dealing with. From what you've told me, the human artefact could be modified, but there's no telling that it would work as we want it to, while the elven weapon might need no modification at all."
"Could the elven weapon not be used against humans as well?" Garon asked, and Anthis frowned in puzzlement as he looked back around towards him.
"Maybe; human magic did descend from elven - but why would we need it to be?"
"We don't. But my concern is that the magic may not be as simple as Rathen's friend thinks. It's already disembodied, that might change things, and Rathen couldn't tell it was elven--"
"I am--"
"Not a scholar, we know, but even so, mistakes can be made by anyone, and if the artefact was capable of affecting any magic rather than exclusively one or the other, would we not be better off?"
Anthis thought for a moment. "You have a point. But honestly, I couldn't tell you for certain." He looked slowly to Rathen.
The mage's irritated frown twisted in thought. "Neither can I, but I'd be willing to hazard a guess. Going by what you've said about elves and context, I'm not so sure the artefact itself would be tailored specifically to people. They would have to distinguish between loyalties and regions that way, so I think it's more likely that it would be aimed at the magic itself, directed by the wielder's intent upon his enemies and away from his own allies, because both allies and enemies can change by circumstance." Rathen sighed meekly as his thoughts progressed. "If - and I stress 'if' - this most certainly complex spell can be adjusted, it may not be a big leap. But that's assuming I can make heads or tails of it at all."
"And what would happen to the original spell if you got it wrong?"
"I could remove my interference. Mages can't deconstruct spells, we can only patch over them, so the original spell, breaks and all, remains beneath it - and from what I've gathered, I'm probably going to have to patch it anyway."
"Well, I'd say that's that decided, then," Anthis smiled, feeling somewhat redeemed.
"Do you know where it could be?"
He hesitated once again, and the group's suspicion returned.
"Never mind," Rathen sighed, giving up to save himself a headache. "What else did you find?"
"Well, there were a few different mentions of places and people. The latter I can't glean much from, but the places could be helpful. There's also vague mention of somewhere being referred to as 'ravein'okh', which literally translates to 'place of magic', but nothing by name - though I have a few ideas of where that might be and I assume it to be our best bet. Then there's talk of where the artefacts were originally created, again not by name but that the location was famous for its craft, so again I think I can work it out, but I'm not actually sure that would be worth pursuing."