Elias and the Enkilder climbed up through the ruins of the collapsed building and into the light of day.
Chapter 41
Hidden Worlds
Eithne thumbed idly through the spare, black moleskin journal, paying only cursory attention to the complicated geometric figures and strange symbols inked on its pages. “Is this the clue we’ve been looking for?”
A silence fell over the queen’s private council chamber as Danica and Ogden shared a long look while Phinneas, Lar, and Bryn looked on.
The book that Danica and Bryn had found, penned by the mysterious Rasen Motyl, was part journal, part spellbook, and part philosophical ramblings on the potential existence of dimensions beyond their own. Rasen claimed that some of his colleagues had devised mathematical equations that proved the existence of other dimensions was not only possible but probable. These same colleagues had attempted to generate spells to open up a gateway into another dimension by modifying the Arcanum used to created teleportation portals, which the arcanists of the ancient world used to cross the globe.
Rasen wrote that every attempt to construct such a dimensional gateway failed, chiefly because they were unable to create a potent enough energy source to activate the gate. Theoretically, Rasen wrote, an arcanist or team of arcanists of sufficient strength could generate such power, but even joined together his fellows were not equal to the task. The wizard went into great detail about the particulars of this problem, describing strange and wondrous apparatuses which utilized crystals and enchanted ores to try to harness and store arcane energy.
Despite the fact that Danica understood little of the theory behind Rasen’s wandering prose she devoured the majority of the book in a single night, for she held in her heart the brave hope that somewhere within its pages there lay a secret that could help her find her brother. Ogden was dubious as to the authenticity of the journal and had even suggested that it may be either a clever work of fiction or the ramblings of a madman.
The Archmagus and Phinneas had poured over the journal all morning, trying to proof the validity of its claims. Danica and Ogden had engaged in a heated discussion over the matter up until they had been summoned to the queen’s private council for a meeting of the Lucerne Sentinels.
“Well,” said the queen, “what’s the verdict?”
A beat of silence fell across the chamber again. Eithne raised an eyebrow. Danica broke the quiet first. “Ogden and I have differing opinions on the authenticity and merit of the journal.”
“I see,” said Eithne, when it became evident that Danica had nothing more to add. “Do you care to expound at all?”
Ogden cleared his throat. “I am dubious about some of the arcane theories that Motyl discusses, though they are certainly thought provoking—and dangerous.”
Eithne looked to Danica. “Danni, you feel differently?”
Danica studied the table, keenly feeling the weight of the others’ eyes upon her. “With respect, I do. Ogden is the resident authority on all things arcane, but we are in somewhat uncharted waters here. I’ve a hunch that this is the clue for which we have been searching.”
Ogden sighed. “It is true that this is a discipline with which I am utterly unfamiliar, which is why I’d rather err on the side of caution.”
“Which is a worthy argument,” said Bryn, “yet I think that the time for caution is at an end. It is time for action.”
“I won’t disagree with you,” said Ogden, “but let us be sure that it is the proper action.”
“I trust Danica,” said Bryn.
Ogden blinked. He looked from Bryn to Danica. “I trust Danica too. If it wasn’t for her and Elias none of us would be sitting here today. My urge to caution is not a condemnation of her or her ideas. I just want to be sure that our emotions are not getting the best of us, that our judgment is not in jeopardy because we are so desperate to find Elias.”
“By which you mean me,” said Danica.
“Danica—”
Danica held up a hand to silence Ogden’s retort. “Your point is not invalid.”
“Danica,” said Ogden, “I do place great value on your opinion. To be quite frank, you are one of the most gifted arcanists I have ever encountered, yet for all that I understand your abilities but little. You and your brother are Innates. You wrestle the arcane forces through force of will and personality, through instinct and intuition.”
“I fail to see a problem with that.”
Ogden shrugged his eyebrows. “There isn’t. Your abilities come with advantages and disadvantages, like anything else. The problem really lies in the fact that a traditional arcanist such as myself falls short in instructing you in the arcane arts, or even understanding how you can do what you do half the time. I know of no other arcanists like you or Elias alive today.
“The failing lies not with you as a student, but with me as a teacher. I cannot offer you sound tutelage or advice in all things, and certainly not all the time.”
Danica smiled at the old wizard. “There’s not one of us that doesn’t find ourselves in the dark with this whole thing.”
“So where does that leave us?” asked Eithne. “What’s the bottom line?”
“Regardless of the validity of Motyl’s theorems, they are incomplete,” said Phinneas. “He works through some of the Arcanum on these pages but they are fragmentary. There are no complete spells here, or full instructions for building one of these gates. At least not as far as I can tell.”
“No, I agree,” said Ogden. “If we were ourselves well-grounded in this subject we might be able to extrapolate enough information to, for example, construct a containment field or otherwise seal the portal.”
“Containment field?” asked the queen.
“Motyl describes a spell he calls a containment field,” answered Ogden. “It is not unlike the shield with which most arcanists are familiar. It is the first bit of defensive magic any Arcalum student is taught.”
Yes,” said Eithne, “I’ve seen you and Bryn use them many times over.”
“The containment field Motyl describes is like a dedicated shield, commonly called a defensive ward, meaning a shield that is anchored to a specific spot and designed to endure,” said Ogden. “The difference is that the containment field is designed to, well, contain vast quantities of volatile energy instead of just deflecting it or absorbing it.”
“Huh,” said Eithne. “So if you could create one of these containment fields you would theoretically be able to seal the vortex?”
“Theoretically, yes,” said Ogden. “But what we have is a puzzle with only half the pieces, if that.”
“Nevertheless, the journal is still valuable,” said Danica. “It provides some clues as to the nature of Elias’s disappearance, for one. It also provides us other avenues to explore.”
Phinneas tugged at his nose. “How do you mean?”
Danica leaned forward, glad to have finally gotten to the heart of the matter. “Rasen spoke at great length about the need for an energy source to activate the dimensional gate.”
“This we know,” said Ogden.
Danica’s smile turned wry. “If only we knew of such a power source. Perhaps an arcane implement of unknown origins possessed of the ability to store and channel mass quantities of arcane energy.”
Ogden flushed and cast a sidelong look at Phinneas who snorted. “Don’t worry, friend,” said the Doctor, “it didn’t occur to me either.”
“I thought it was odd that Elias had left his sword behind,” said Lar, who had watched the discussion mutely up until now.
Ogden cast a withering glance at the Marshal. “Oh, you did, did you?”
If Lar was perturbed by Odgen’s comment it didn’t show on his stoic features. “It seemed unlikely that he would not at least see something of this magnitude coming, if only at the last moment. It’s even more unlikely that he would leave his sword behind if there was danger present.”
“Still, it is quite possible that he was caught unawares,�
�� said Phinneas.
“No,” said Bryn who studied the far wall with flat eyes. “It was in my chambers but it was Elias who disappeared, not me. He’s gone because he knew this vortex was coming. He either sensed it, or somehow created it.”
“You think that Elias did what exactly?” asked Ogden. “Constructed such a gate? Intentionally?”
Danica sat back and laid a hand over Bryn’s as the princess bristled. “It is a thought that has occurred to me as well. If, for arguments sake, Elias’s sword has the ability to power such a gateway, it would explain why it is left behind but he is gone.”
“It is an interesting theory,” said Ogden, “yet I fail to see how Elias would have come upon the knowledge to manage such a feat.”
“We found such knowledge,” said Danica, “hiding in plain sight, right under our very noses. I cannot help but think Elias could have done the same.”
“I know,” said Ogden with a long sigh, “a fact that seems a little too convenient if you ask me.”
“You think it may be a trap?” asked Lar.
Ogden eyed the Marshal. “Perhaps even one that Elias fell into.”
“Either way, it provides us with an easy solution,” said Danica.
Ogden snorted. “How’s that?”
“We do what Elias would do. We follow the trail of evidence until we find the truth, one way or the other.” Danica held up Rasen Motyl’s journal. “If Elias did indeed find this, then he must have found more, for, as you say, the knowledge contained in these pages is but the tip of the splinter.
“Either Elias or someone else employed an Arcanum not unlike that described in these pages and tore a hole in our world, and I swear on my salt that I will leave no stone unturned until I find my brother and get to the bottom of this foxhole. The only question is, are you with me?”
A pregnant silence fell over the chamber. Danica studied Ogden, searching his sagacious features. She knew how fierce he could be when moved, but his was a kind heart, shaped by his dedication to the service of his realm, and his queen, whom Danica knew he loved as a daughter.
Ogden offered her a spare but firm nod.
“What do you need, Danica?” asked Eithne.
Danica’s trademark, half smile lit up her face. “Oggie, how do you feel about sharing your study with me for a while? We’ve some experimenting to do.”
Chapter 42
Malak’s Oath
The day was bright and crisp, but still. In fact, thought Elias, a little too still.
He thought that he had been prepared for the ruins of Peidra, as he had ruminated on it much over the preceding weeks. Yet being confronted with it now left him numb and light-headed. Like a colossal graveyard the weather-worn remains of buildings poked up from the earth like crooked headstones. The cobblestones of the roadways that were once mortared so close together as to appear a solid piece of stone were now pulverized to pebbles or else turned to glass under the power of some unimaginable Arcanum.
“How is this even possible?” asked Elias, to no one in particular.
Teah answered him. “I told you of the rain of fire. That is responsible for much of the damage, but in the wake of that terrible storm tornadoes rose and decimated what remained. How the Obsidian Queen and her court escaped is anyone’s guess. Some portal I imagine.”
“To think she destroyed what she had fought so hard to win,” said Elias.
“The queen never wanted the human cities,” Malak said. “She despised them. She merely occupied Peidra because it was a sound strategic stronghold. For all we know, destroying it was always part of her plan.”
“Where is she now?” asked Elias.
“Fortunately, far enough away,” replied Teah.
“Not far enough for me,” said Malak.
“Despite what you may have guessed,” Teah said, “the Dark prefer the forests and high places of the world like all fey. The queen has made the Renwood the heart of her domain.”
Elias grunted. “I can see that. I once spent some time in the Renwood. It was an...unusual place.”
“The Renwood once stretched for hundreds of miles,” said Malak. “All the way to the foot of your Peidra, in fact. Illedium was once part of it.”
“The humans took the Renwood from the fey in ages past,” said Teah, “and then cut most of it down for lumber and to make roads. The fey always wanted it back.”
Elias’s sense of outrage deflated a little. It was an old tale—an ancient feud born from land disputes and a struggle over resources. It wasn’t much different from Galacia’s difficulties with Ittamar. Or Aradur and Erastes’ over the border mines.
“I’ve had enough talk of the past,” Elias said. “Let’s move on.”
Despite his words, Elias could not ignore the ghosts of the past as they picked their way through the ruins. In stark contrast to the eerie quiet that lay over the city, the air felt charged, pregnant with an invisible, weightless and yet crushing force. Whether it was the stain of so many thousands meeting their end on these grounds, the residual traces of magical energy, or the eroding of the ether, he knew not. But the sensation heightened as they moved closer to the center of the ruins, where Arcalum once stood.
Lost as he was in his musings, Elias was content to let Teah lead. His feeling of apprehension and sensitivity to the arcane charge in the air had reached an almost unbearable level when Teah stopped and took a knee behind a half buried archway.
“We’re getting close to something,” Elias said.
Teah nodded. “I sense it too. Now you know why the Wilder, and every other living thing keeps clear of this place.”
A sound escaped Elias that was somewhere between a mirthless laugh and a sigh. “You ain’t kidding.”
“Take a moment to collect yourselves,” she said. “We’ll need to have our wits about us.”
Malak produced a flask and took sip. He passed it to Elias. “Just a small sip to fortify yourself. We don’t want to dull our wits.”
Elias took the flask and swallowed half a mouthful. It was the same honeyed draught that they had drunk on the night of Leosis’s Abeotium. Warmth radiated at once through him, and he felt a little better. He handed the flask to Teah who offered him a tight smile.
The shadows of the ruins lengthened as the day wore on to late afternoon, and as they moved on a cloud cover rolled in, darkening the day further yet. Presently they passed into a small clearing. It was a city square that was only partially occluded. In the center of the square stood a statue upon a dais.
As Elias looked upon the effigy the breath went out of him.
“Careful!” cried Teah. “The paving stones of the square are spelled and the statue is warded.”
“Don’t worry,” Elias said in a toneless voice. “This place holds no danger for me.”
The runes on his arm tingled and his sword grew warm in its scabbard as he neared the statue. He studied the likeness of the woman carved from the single piece of white marble. The detail was remarkable. The sculptor had truly captured the essence of his subject. For the first time since Elias came to this blasted future he felt that everything was going to be all right.
“What is it, Wayfarer?” asked Malak. “You’ve gone as white as a shade, or look as if you’ve seen one.”
“In a way I have,” Elias answered. “This is a statue of my sister.”
Malak joined Elias. “Truly?”
“Truly,” said Elias.
“She has a noble face,” observed Teah.
“But what does it mean?” Malak asked.
“It’s a message,” replied Elias. “A clue of some kind.”
“There’s a ward around the dais,” said Teah. “And not a weak one.”
“Curious how it remained untouched all this time,” Malak said.
Elias felt himself smile. “Danica always was the tenacious one.”
“I can only imagine that this stymied the Obsidian Queen as well,” said Teah. “She would have wanted to learn the secret of this thing.
Frankly I’m more than a little surprised that she didn’t.”
As they neared the perimeter of the ward, Elias’s sword began to veritably sing with crackling energy and the pins-and-needles from his runes had crawled up his arm to the shoulder. “She didn’t have the key,” he said as he freed his sword from its scabbard.
Elias summoned his arcane sight and saw the shimmering sphere of energy that cocooned the dais. It was the pale yellow of a springtime sun. It felt like Danica.
He brandished his sword. Skeins of blue lightning raced up its length and arced to the ward. A magnetic force pulled the blade toward the sphere. Gingerly, he laid the point of the steel against it. The ward whispered and without violence collapsed in on itself and funneled into Elias’s sword.
Elias examined his blade. To the eye it hadn’t changed at all, but he could feel the gravity of an immense power secreted away within the steel. He knew that the warding spell had a singular purpose. It was a gift from Danica, left for him centuries in the past. More than that, it was the key to his passage home.
Without looking up he felt the presence of Teah and Malak as they joined him at the foot of the dais. “We came seeking some forgotten secret in Arcalum,” Teah said, “but perhaps this is what we truly came for.”
“What now?” asked Malak. “Now that we captured the spell, what do we do with it?”
“Danica was never one to play coy,” Elias replied. “I’m sure she left another clue.”
Elias mounted the dais and examined the face of the statue. The likeness was a mirror image of Danica at the age he had last seen her, but she wore not the white habit of a Physician but the robes of a wizard. Her hands were held low, almost touching, palms facing down, as if she were holding something. Elias looked down below her hands and saw a silver disk with a hinged slot.
Malak followed Elias’s gaze and said, “What do you suppose that is?”
Elias smiled. “It’s a keyhole.”
He took his sword in both hands and held it above the slot. With a little effort the hilt managed to squeeze between her hands, aligning the blade with the slot. He pressed down and the sword slid easily into the fissure. At once both the blade and the silver disk emitted a yellow-white light and a low-pitched hum. Elias danced back from the dais, watching in wonder as the entire statue slid back to reveal the entrance to a subterranean stairway.
Wayfarer (The Empyrean Chronicle) Page 34