by Kim Wedlock
Anthis cursed, but Rathen raised his hand for patience. They watched as the first guard disappeared around the corner, and after the subtlest countdown beneath the mage's breath, a name was called with urgency and the second guard hurried away after him.
"Go, go!" The very moment he stepped out of view the four darted back to their horses and ushered them across the short, open stretch to the ruined gates, through the disintegrated metal and safely out of sight behind the city wall.
They slowed their pace once they were clear, and Rathen spared a confused glance behind them to the warped gate. "Are they really so afraid of this place that they haven't dared to even board this gate up?" He mused aloud. "It's as good as open - anyone could get into the city this way."
"Clearly," Anthis grinned. "But they don't think anyone actually wants to come in here. Those two were just there to make sure that the occasional person who turns up with the inclination of doing so doesn't, for the sake of their safety." He bobbed his head in concedence. "And to avoid upsetting any ghosts."
"People like you, you mean?"
Anthis's grin widened mischievously. "They had no such luck."
The region was a mess of bent metal and shattered rock, and yet many roads were clear of debris despite being unmaintained, as if the ghosts who were feared to remain had taken up the task themselves. But this was not the site of a city razed in war - Rathen knew well what that looked like. Rather the buildings had crumbled and collapsed on the spot, like a tent whose central pole had been removed. As they looked uneasily about themselves, they found that, in most cases, only a few walls of each building remained standing, the rest forming a tangled heap in the middle of their foundations. There were a few exceptions, with one or two remaining in surprisingly good condition despite seven hundred years of neglect, though they were still far from liveable.
But as they passed quietly through the eerie streets, safe from prying eyes even in the open, Rathen could feel the ancient magic, the aged spells that continued to collapse, the magic that continued to disperse. It felt little like the previous ruins; there the magic was dense and lively, but here it was sparse and lethargic. It was clear that this was nothing more than the magic of broken spells, with nothing unusual or fearful about it - but though the sensation in his veins was slight, it was still difficult to ignore. This was the first time he'd been in such a place for years. Had he still been with the Order in Kulokhar, he would have felt such a thing every single day and wouldn't have noticed it for a moment, but here it served only to remind him how far removed he was from his old life. But the time he had spent in the Order was not inconsequential; adjustment came quickly and he soon stopped noticing it.
The atmosphere, however, was harder to ignore. The ruined city seemed to press down on them as they followed Anthis's lead, turning from wide streets to narrow lanes before returning to the main road, and all the while the half-standing buildings watched them as they passed. There was little shadow cast over the roads as few walls stood at their original height, but their presence still dominated the district. There were no people here, no humans, no elves. Instead it was the buildings, the standing memory of a long-lost civilisation, that occupied the area, and it seemed as though they were just as confused by the elves' sudden disappearance. Surely they should have crumbled to dust by now, the spells long fallen, but instead the city appeared to be waiting patiently for them to return and restore its glory, and it frowned menacingly upon anyone who was not of such ancient blood.
Aria shrank back against Rathen. "I don't like this place," she whispered, as though she feared the buildings would hear her, and Rathen squeezed her hand before quietly admitting the same.
He looked over towards Anthis as they stepped back onto the wide road and spoke up. "Where are we heading?"
The young historian pointed towards the towers.
"And what's in there?"
"Knowledge."
Rathen sighed. "Please don't start being vague and mysterious."
"Those towers were the centre of the city," he elaborated eagerly, his previous evasiveness no doubt nothing more than a ploy to evoke intrigue, "both geographically and socially, just as those were that still stand in Kulokhar, Tarun, Stoke and so on. It's where records were kept, high-status meetings were held, items of cultural or local importance were contained - you get the idea. But," his enthusiasm dropped warily, "this place has already been cleared out by treasure hunters. The best we'll get, as I've said, is information."
"And you're sure everything you have points here?" Garon asked from their other side as he peered up at the buildings with a shadow of Rathen's discomfort.
"I am."
"Is it possible the artefact itself would have been kept here?"
Anthis shook his head. "Not likely. Mokhan was too small and insignificant."
"But there would have been mages here that they wanted to take magic from or oppress, wouldn't there?"
"Eh, it's possible," he conceded, "but that fact is neither here nor there if the place has already been cleaned out."
"What about papers?"
"Treasure hunters don't care for papers. If it isn't shiny, it's worthless. What we want will be here."
Rathen sighed to himself doubtfully, but at least Anthis was confident, and he looked down as he felt Aria's eyes peering up at him.
"Is your magic going to disappear if we go in there?" She asked him quietly, and as he told her he'd be fine, he found himself unappreciative of the abstract interest that was mixed in with her concern.
The towers loomed before them, structures that stood as tall as perhaps twenty houses, but it was only as they stepped into the wide, open square at their foot that they could see how ruined they truly were, despite still standing so proudly. From within the populated city these twisting towers would have seemed almost pristine, if irregular, but from so close, the holes in the silver and golden metal walls were saddeningly clear. Aria decided they looked as though they had been eaten by the equivalent of a giant wood worm. In many cases great portions were missing, lying instead in a crumpled heap at the foot of the twin buildings, or leaning against the lengths of silver that spiralled counter-clockwise around the towers which, though equally ruined, were complete enough to create a dizzying effect when stared at for too long.
Rathen turned his eyes to the floor to avoid falling over. Aria should have done the same, but with a gentle pull on her arm to counter-balance her as she began to topple, he was able to keep her on her feet and the others from noticing.
With no one to hide their presence from, they tethered their horses outside of the tower, far enough that they would be safe should another panel decide to fall, took what they needed from the bags - which, for Anthis, seemed to be everything - and warily ascended the steps to slip in through the broken doors.
It was only a little darker inside than out, as daylight flooded in through the decay to illuminate what would once have been the atrium to such an official building. But with the walls, floor and high ceiling ruined and the rest reclaimed by wild plants and the expanding reach of the city's unkempt gardens, little of its sophisticated charm remained. But despite its size and regality, Anthis told them there would have been more guards in there than anyone of status, and they would have served only as a reminder of the building's importance rather than to maintain any kind of order. Their uniforms would have been elegant but imposing, making the guards themselves into decorations, but they would still have been more than capable with their magic. "Our status is determined by wealth and bloodline," he explained as they walked, though no one had actually asked, each torn between looking up and around themselves as well as where they put their feet, "but for the elves, wealth didn't come into it. With their magic, everyone had access to the same things, so instead it was bloodline and magical strength that determined their importance. The kinds of guards that would have stood in here may have been nice to look at, but they weren't given their armour on a whim, they had to earn it,
and that training elevated them socially, too."
"Does that mean this place is full of their ghosts?" Aria asked warily, but Anthis cast her a handsome, reassuring smile.
"I expect they're all with their gods. And anyway, I've been here a few times and never met any."
There were scrolls and books strewn everywhere, many torn and broken, and as Rathen turned his eyes up to the collapsed ceiling and the rooms revealed beyond it - and the rooms beyond those - he realised that most of them hadn't been stored in the atrium at all. Clearly Anthis hadn't been kidding when he'd said that papers were worthless to treasure hunters, but surely they had to be worth something to a historian. How Anthis wasn't picking everything up and trying to find space in his bag and pockets for it all, he really didn't know.
Aside from the weather-beaten tomes, little else had remained in tact. The only furniture to be seen was broken - chairs having fallen beneath broken legs, side tables shattered by collapsed walls - or things that were simply too big to steal, like enormous display cases or a long conference table he spotted in a nearby room that would have seated at least sixteen. Little decoration remained, either, as that had surely been the first to go, but the damage to the walls made it clear that some late-comers had been so desperate as to try to pry the gilding from skirting and crown mouldings.
They stepped carefully over the debris and avoided the tangled mat of roots, keeping close together, never straying from Anthis's lead nor what they felt was the reach of Rathen's magic, and after edging with particular caution around a hole partially concealed beneath a tattered and rotten rug, they reached the end of the hall and the foot of the elaborate, twisting staircase.
Anthis chose his steps prudently. He kept at first to the outside edge, then shuffled over tightly to the right after three, where he remained for another five. The others followed his chaotic path exactly, noting that many ledges were rotten while others were missing altogether, and when the need arose, whoever was in the best position lifted Aria over the gaps, though she still tried to make the stretch by herself. And so it was with much trouble and greater relief that they finally reached the top of the staircase - but no sooner had they done so and Anthis had led them along a short, shattered corridor than he had them climb another. But no one complained. He seemed to know precisely where he was going, passing countless rooms without casting them even a cursory glance, and after twenty long minutes of careful footing, they followed him into a room so small that the four of them almost filled it, and there were far fewer parchments and books within than any but he seemed to have expected.
The young historian shared not a word as he ducked beneath the beam that obscured the second half of the room, dropping his bag down on an upturned wooden box with barely a thought to begin rummaging excitedly through the remaining boxes and shelves, forgetting the others as he fell into his element.
They frowned at him curiously but didn't distract him with questions. He was looking for something quite particular - that much was clear by the fact that he didn't stop to pore over every little thing he found - but it left the others quite uncertain of what to do with themselves.
Rather than stand idle, Garon began looking through the shelves beside him much more carefully. Perhaps he thought that Anthis's haste was foolish, but Rathen doubted that the inquisitor had much of an idea of what he was doing. Rather than make an equal nuisance of himself, Rathen stepped back outside, taking Aria with him. She objected initially, wishing to watch him work, but soon huffed and folded her arms when he explained that there was simply not enough room. No sooner had he turned his head away, however, than she'd charged off into the equally dishevelled room next door, and it seemed that in the very same moment he heard the careless patter of her feet moving away from him, she'd already occupied herself with ancient books.
His heart leapt into his throat. He dashed after her as she made herself comfortable among the papers on the floor, surely the largest book in the room resting open in her lap, but after a very close look around, by nothing less than luck, she seemed to be safe where she was - though he gave her a stern word all the same.
The pages she peered down at were a mixture of words and runes, and though there were no pictures to capture her amazement, she still gasped at the sight of the flourishing lettering, their shapes so elegant she could never have read them. "Did they write this with magic?" She asked him, and though he knew her question had been posed out of disbelief, he found himself unable to answer. But surely the elves had never truly been that pompous.
Aria so amused herself for what seemed like an hour, and whenever she tired of a book, Rathen fetched her a new one rather than have her move around carelessly herself. He had taken to peering over her shoulder in between as there was little else to do, but even that seemed as good to him as doing nothing. He found their contents just as cryptic. He'd been taught a few elven words during his time as a student in the Order, as all mages were, but reading even simple sentences was beyond him. It was only through the occasional and far too elaborate sketches that he was able to glean a vague idea of the subject matter, but accounts of the city's construction or events in local history didn't seem relevant to Anthis's hunt. None of it interested him in the slightest, and time dragged by just as slowly as it would have had he stared at a wall.
The tower was quiet but for the occasional thud from the room next door, always followed by a muttered curse and the sound of paper brushing paper, but never any cries of success nor even a single, encouraging mumble. Rathen's hope dropped even further with every such scuffle, but when a different series of sounds disrupted the stillness, punctuated by hurried footsteps, Rathen was quick to react.
He almost walked right into Anthis as he blustered out of the doorway, who in turn almost elbowed him in the face as he slung his bag over his shoulder, but though he jumped slightly at the sight of the mage, barely a moment later he seemed to have forgotten him.
"It's not in there," he explained mildly before he could be asked, and immediately started further along the corridor without waiting for a word.
Rathen frowned, but he and Aria quickly followed as Garon fell in behind, a look of disappointment creasing the inquisitor's middle-aged brow. "I thought you knew where it was."
"No," he said as he passed blindly by more rooms again, paying little attention to anything more than the ground as he spoke, "but I know where it isn't."
"He did say it wouldn't be quick," Aria reminded him, and Rathen sighed as he recalled it. He'd been foolish to hope.
The search continued along the same pattern: without a word to the others, Anthis would enter a room picked seemingly at random, spend up to an hour rifling through books and papers and then move on without offering any update. They hadn't even had the chance to question him as they took a break for lunch, as he chose to eat as he worked instead. Despite the consistent lack of results, Anthis's mood remained buoyant, but that only made the hunt seem even more endless. If the passage of four hours of fruitless searching didn't faze him in the slightest, they could be at this for days. Rathen could only hope there weren't enough rooms in the tower for that to be the case.
Aria continued to enter anywhere the historian had missed when the room he picked was too small, but rather than try to stymie her insatiable curiosity, Rathen attempted to carry out his own futile search to try to hurry the pace. Anthis could have missed something, after all. But, as each time before, everything he found appeared to be worthless, and those recounts with a comparative abundance of images served only to worsen his opinion of the elves. It was clear from the attention that had gone into particular details that they placed too much emphasis on insignificant matters, like the aesthetics of the city rather than the running of it, the fact that there were too many humans walking around freely and invoking stricter curfews and punishments for them, or the import of hand-crafted silks being a catastrophic three days late. By comparison, the human mages they so despised were far more noble, both in their time and t
he present.
Rathen entertained that little sense of smugness.
But try as he might, he found no reference to a 'great magical advancement', nor anything that came close to the description in any of the rooms he searched, and they moved on again and again with no clue as to their progress even when they asked.
Upon leaving the next room, however, Anthis didn't immediately hurry off. Instead he stood quietly in the hallway, a thoughtful frown creasing his face as the others watched him impatiently, though none of them gave their feelings voice through fear of distracting him. After so long, none of them wanted to risk interrupting any train of thought.
Finally, he shook his head. "There's nothing for it," he mumbled to himself, but once again, rather than elaborate, he turned on his heel and marched them back towards the staircase. They were already quite high in the tower, but rather than climb further, they descended three floors and followed him across to a closed door. He stopped and turned to face them, his expression finally shifting from the mask of focus he'd worn since entering the building, but they weren't quite sure that his sudden hesitance was a change for the better.
He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to change his mind and reached for the door handle instead. "You're not going to like this..."
Despite the pleasant warmth of the early afternoon sun as it spilled across their skin, panic sparked through their cores like struck flint and they each recoiled a swift half-step. But despite the dread that sank their faces, Rathen's lips did momentarily twitch into a grim smile. It seemed strangely fitting that the only door still wholly in tact actually had something to hide.
The collapsed ceiling buried the floor, trapping whatever little the most desperate scavengers had left, while the broken chairs and tables from the floor above stood upon the debris as if placed there intentionally. Even the rug that had accompanied them still seemed to lie where it had originally been unrolled, as though the whole room had simply been displaced to a lower level. But while the wall to the left still stood and the wall to the right was no more broken than any of the others, the rounded wall directly ahead was nowhere at all to be found.