His smile turned jaded. “Honestly, a part of me wonders if it's deliberate. Happenstance and madness as much as genius is responsible for the current state of our art, and if by some chance those children are struck by a brilliant bit of mischief that causes a particularly remarkable effect to occur, well, you can bet your britches our more scholarly mages will grill those children to tears getting down all the particulars.”
Jess, however, was frowning. “But, I thought, well, transmogrification, changing someone's shape, even their color, was totally outside the elementalist paradigm?”
Malek grinned. “It is.”
Jess blinked. “So those children are already defying the laws of magic as we understand them?”
“Pretty much.”
Jess nodded, gazing appreciatively at the fine marble-faced hallway, graced with majestic frescoes telling what she was certain was a noble tale of adventure and intrigue. Certainly, the prince bowing before an ancient faerie court appeared almost lifelike, his brilliant blue eyes silently imploring, his exquisitely detailed crown and sword hilt of real gold.
“This hallway is truly a magnificent work of art, Malek. One day you’ll have to tell me the story depicted on these frescoes.”
Her shieldbrother nodded. “Happy to. In the meantime, Master Enchanter Rens's chambers are right here at the end of the hallway. You might find him a bit... different from the scholars we’ve passed by so far.”
Jess took a quick glance around the great hallway, seeing more than a few bookish gentlemen wearing finely knitted robes, armed with nothing more significant than eating daggers belted around their waist, often as not a tome or scroll in hand as they made their way from what appeared to be an impressive library to her right. They, in turn, gave her an assessing eye, nodding at her gaze courteously enough, despite her penitent’s robe.
Truly unexpected.
Jess sighed. “Courteous as these wizards are, I hate making a bad impression. I would have loved the opportunity to wear something other than the penitent’s robe for my first visit to this wing of the college, especially if I’m trying to convince a powerful mage to put his faith in my abilities as a potential Delver.”
Malek flashed her a reassuring smile. “Trust me, Jess. I think he’ll give you a chance, despite your attire. Especially if Alex and I vouch for you. Master Rens isn’t your typical arcane scholar. Most of his business comes from those lords scratching a hold for themselves on the boundaries of our kingdom, fending off raiders and such, where rough living is the norm, and the heart of a warrior is appreciated. He earns at least as much coin from them as other enchanters do from those popinjays in the heart of our kingdom, where the nobility fortunate enough to call the capital home live in opulent splendor." He chuckled softly. "As much as I love gazing upon the glory of our capital, I'm glad to be away from all the petty intrigue. There are only so many times I'm willing to bear some fop gossiping about my past indiscretions while smirking to my face before I challenge him to a duel.”
Jess nodded, giving her shieldbrother an impulsive squeeze, knowing the burdens of his heart as well as anyone. She then took a deep breath, girding herself. “Well then, shall we make ourselves known?”
Malek nodded, gently tapping the burnished silver knocker in the center of the great oaken door firmly set at the exact center of the hallway’s end. Jess heard a low hum and could sense flickers of arcane energy like madly dancing filaments of bright light whipping back and forth, gently caressing Malek with their touch. He didn’t appear aware of them, but suddenly looked uncomfortable and began sneezing uncontrollably before the silvery strands gently retreated, apparently satisfied.
It was then that Jess noted several silver strands of energy questing out towards her, though she gently pushed them away, not really wanting them tickling her nose or her flesh. The fibers flapped about in seeming confusion for a moment, then acquiesced as if admitting defeat, retracting back into the ancient oaken panels once more.
Malek stopped scratching his nose and gave Jess a curious look. “That’s strange. Normally Rens’s doorway makes everyone sneeze upon seeking admittance. Hmm... maybe it only applies to those…” He coughed, suddenly embarrassed. “Never mind.”
Jess sighed. “Let me guess. It only applies to those with the talent to cast spells? That would figure.”
Malek flushed. “I didn’t say that. But if I had, I would owe you an apology.”
Jess cracked a grin. “It’s fine, my friend. Maybe I’m just so thickheaded those strands didn’t want to bother with me.”
Malek looked puzzled. “Strands? What are you talking about?”
It was then that the door was abruptly yanked open by a great hulking bear of a man sporting a fiery red beard as grand as any king's, with hair of similar hue coating his body entire, if the bright red tufts spilling from cuffs and collar were any indication. His scalp was covered in a thatch of dark crimson curls, and he wore a doublet of deepest burgundy over which he had donned a calfskin jacket that looked both well-worn and exquisitely comfortable, as only silk or beaten leather could be. His trousers were of a deep indigo blue and were made entirely of silk, tucked at the bottom into well-worn calfskin boots.
His blazing eyes gave them each an appraising glare, and he huffed dismissively before speaking, his voice for some reason making Jess think of the throaty rumbling of a hungry bear. “You, Malek, I recognize. And who is this other one? As if I could not guess. As if it even mattered. What does matter is that she has not entered the Wizards Wing prior to this very day. I can tell by the scent of her aura. It has a unique flavor. One I would surely recognize, had I come across it before.”
He peered at her closely, almost as if he would cow her with his brilliant blue eyes, his powerful presence washing over her with odd intensity. Jess held her place, gazing calmly into his own fierce countenance. He grinned and nodded approvingly. “No shirking violet, I can tell that, at least. She has the stance and build of a warrior. Well then, welcome to my domain, little warrior. My college within the college, so to speak. We will pretend we don’t both know why you wear what you do. Perhaps at a later date, you can tell me how you fooled my door.”
Malek flashed her a quick undecipherable glance, even as Rens bade them enter with a sweeping gesture, shutting and sealing the door behind them.
Jess blinked, vision suddenly blurring, rubbing her tearing eyes for some seconds before everything suddenly came into piercingly sharp focus. It was as if, for the first time, after a lifetime of looking at landscapes and portraits depicting the illusion of distance, she was now beholding a mighty canyon sprung up suddenly before her. A girl who had long admired still paintings of lakes, now sailing upon a vast and mighty sea.
She had always been able to sense strands of magic, to see the humble webs of power carefully constructed by her friends, for all that she couldn’t cast a single spell herself. Long content to gaze fondly at those flickering lights of possibility, Jess now beheld the arcane equivalent of a glorious sunset of indescribable beauty and wonder.
Before her she felt the throbbing of vast and barely contained power. She could almost taste the quantum flux of arcane energies rippling about the vast chambers before her. Indeed, Rens's doorway didn’t just lead into the entrance of his quarters, but was the gateway into massive chambers cleaved into the great granite mountain that abutted the college. For the room arched vast and grand, sweeping overhead to scores of brilliant, twinkling lights set into giant bronze chandeliers, glowing with a steady luminescence that could only be arcane in nature.
As she gazed about carefully, she could just make out the deep blue and gray strands of magic locked around the chandeliers, containing and directing brilliant energies within closed circuits of power, tied off from its source and perpetually fluxing at inconceivable speeds, giving forth the illusion of illumination that was, for all intents and purposes, as bright as a cloudy spring day.
“Brilliant, isn't it?" Rens sighed contentedly. "It was my
journeyman piece, forged to show I was worthy of working in these halls as a true scholar of the enchanter's art." He gazed about the room, with its many bookcases of ancient oak and bronze worktables covered with items of eldritch enchantment with obvious pride. "I helped forge these chambers, you know; deep into the heart of Highrock itself. Truly, these halls within the Academy's halls are my own."
He gave Jess and Malek a second appraising glance as they nodded in admiration of the grand chamber and the many tomes and works within. “I know you to be a competent apprentice, Malek, and a skilled tactician who can actually get my more martially oriented students to strike their targets in concert. Yet to my recollection, this is the first time you have sought direct audience with me outside of a classroom setting. And if you would be so kind?”
“Oh yes, Master Rens,” Malek began, having been caught speechless by the wonder of Rens's great study. “Allow me to introduce my shieldsister, Lady Jessica de Calenbry. If you can disregard the robe she wears, you would see before you one of the finest tacticians our school has forged, having trained by my side since first we came, both of us skilled in all the weapons of war General Eloquin taught us to master, both of us veterans of the High Hunt, never refusing to embrace the call.”
Jess shivered, to hear Malek speak so candidly of things she thought never to be mentioned at all.
“She also has quite the knack with wood, and is considered quite gifted in the herbal arts as well.” Malek grinned. “Otherwise she is a horrible student, currently suffering the ire of numerous professors for earlier folly, for most of those fools don’t realize the awful price we pay, hunting by our master’s side.”
Jess swallowed, blinking in disbelief, but neither Malek nor the professor seemed to think his candor at all odd.
Rens nodded, gazing at Jess with appraising eyes. "And now I may properly greet you, recognized for your virtue alone. Lady Jessica of the Calenbry clan, once its heir. Your father is Baron Arthur de Calenbry, one of King Richard's right-hand men during the conflict recently past when first you came, long ago as that was. Your reputation does, in fact, precede you, my dear." He flashed a grim smile. “And being a protégé of Eloquin's, I do not doubt that you are quite familiar with all the martial aspects of our fine college. And I understand I owe you a debt of thanks, as well.”
Jess blinked in momentary confusion, even as the larger than life wizard chuckled softly. "For Lady Vaila has oft confided that the rare herbs I request from her, as potent in essence and aligned to their higher forms as a wizard could possibly hope for, are cared for and harvested by none other than yourself, my lady." Rens gave an approving nod. "You are reputed to have an unusual way with plants of finicky disposition, flourishing in your care when they would wilt in any other's greenhouse or garden." The master enchanter gave a theatrical sigh. "Our college will be sorely pressed to find your replacement, when this wondrous season finally ends.”
He clapped her shoulder and nodded approvingly, and Jess couldn’t help grinning at the compliment. “I am happy to make time for two of Eloquin's Chosen, who have served this college and this nation long and well. So tell me, how I may be of assistance to you both?”
Jess cleared her throat, quelling her sudden nervousness, determined not to stumble over her words. “You see, sir, we were given to understand that a rift in Shadow might be forming with the equinox, and that you were embracing ceremonies both to ward the college and, if it does manifest, to peer inside that realm of Shadow, and glean what information there was to be had.”
Rens stepped back with a huff, his look fierce and measuring. “And what interest would you students have in the Shadowrealms? You are both aligned to the seasons themselves. Such forces have no place in living dream.”
Malek flushed and Jess was rendered speechless, to hear those words said aloud. So many glimpses of things terrible, wondrous, and forbidden they had caught sight of, this summer, and it was so very easy to explain it all away as battlemadness or vices savored during the revels that always followed their dark little missions. Jess could sense Malek's carefully constructed arguments for why they should be allowed to participate in Rens's attempts to pierce the veil between the mundane realm and the realms of Regio wilting under the master enchanter's cool gaze.
“Forgive us for troubling you, Master Rens,” Malek said at last, “we were given to understand that you will be taking some students in an attempt to glimpse the barrier between this realm and the Realm of Dreams within which the echo of an ancient tower, once a part of this college, can be seen in all its lost glory. As if it had not fallen centuries ago, as if it shone still with all its splendor, not a moment past its prime.” Malek scratched his head. “Alex had explained it, implying that even as we captured its image, we forced it away, protecting our college while getting a bird’s-eye view of the tower and what might lie inside. Jess and I, well, we would like to witness it. Perhaps we could aid you in some way.”
Rens frowned, giving a slight shake of his head. “I am sorry, Malek, but as much as I normally am one to indulge good intentions, a working of this magnitude is not something I wish to leave open to casual voyeurism. Too many variables to consider. Too many things, quite frankly, that could go wrong, unless everything proceeds according to our exacting regimen, carefully rehearsed beforehand.”
Jess felt her heart sink, realizing Alex had been in error, afraid she had made a fool of herself. And she had strode in so confidently, knowing her friend would never lie to her. But there was the rub. She could sense the hostility of a spiteful lie, but an honest mistake would shine as brightly as heavenly truth to her mind. It was malicious deception alone she had a knack for sensing, not the accuracy of an answer, or she would be far more the scholar than the dunce of all her classes.
“Master Rens,” Jess interjected, fearing rudeness but not wanting the professor to close the discussion without at least fully hearing them out. “Perhaps we can bring something to the table. Malek here is actually striving to bridge the gap between perfect forms and reality with his arts, and feels the arcane path he is pursuing may serve as a key to allow us to enter the Realm of Dreams in the flesh one day. I do not know the particulars, not being an adept of the arcane, but perhaps seeing your own masterful magics at work will give him added insights into his own research.”
Jess took a deep breath, gazing calmly into the fearsome instructor’s imposing gaze. “As for myself? Let me put it this way. In a best-case scenario, should you successfully form a bridge of magic between your circle of students and that realm of Regio soon to overlap our mundane realm, wouldn’t it be nice to have a Squire who is well-trained in the warrior’s arts as backup, should we encounter anything less than friendly?
"If you are considering bringing martial reinforcements of any type, we would be honored if you would count us among their number. I am given to understand that if, gods forfend, the protective ritual does not work, adventurers alone can close the rift by embracing the story within, drawing it to its natural close. And the dance of the Delvers, risking their very existence for the sake of the tale, is one Malek and I both find ourselves willing to embrace, especially if daring this tower might somehow protect our school.”
Rens's furrowed brows transformed to a thoughtful nod. "Not seeking to counter the dark working by external means, but by embracing the magic directly, making its story your own.” He flashed a grim smile. “Bold, daring, clever. Befitting of Eloquin’s Squires.” He nodded thoughtfully. "And for all that you are aligned to the harvest, who better to dare a Delver’s dream than those who have so long embraced the High Hunt? Very well then, young Malek de Sousel, describe and demonstrate to me your workings, and I shall see if they have any possible application to the ceremony we will be attempting."
Flashing a panicked look Jess's way, Malek quickly snapped to attention and explained his theory regarding the realms of images, illusion, and Regio, how he theorized that the branch of spells pertaining to the manufacture of light and so
und were, in fact, nothing less than dreams of reality hidden behind the veil of mundanity. A porthole of sorts to the very Shadowrealms themselves, and not simple fancies.
Malek's voice became animated despite his attempts at formality as he explained the reasoning behind his conclusion that perhaps, somehow, the illusionary arts could be used to bridge the barrier between the realms of reality and dream. With that, and a few moments concentration to center himself, Malek began to recast the spell he had shown Jess in the library, and soon the great chamber resonated with what Malek assured were echoes of hauntingly beautiful harp music playing melodies not heard by mortal ears for centuries.
While he did so, Jess found her attention caught by the many curious items Master Rens had placed on bookshelf and workbench alike. She noted the curious flickers of light and energy that spoke of magical chords wound tight around said artifacts, seemingly self-contained, not channeled actively by any wizard, but rather running continuously of their own accord.
Magic. Shaped and channeled to loop in an infinite chord of power resonating down through the ages: complex, fascinating, beautiful. She gazed at one small silvery cube playing a gentle series of melodies, quite fragile. For the dozens and dozens of silvery filaments that were the chords of arcane energy that made its framework, they seemed almost to rustle and vibrate with her breath as she gazed at it carefully, admiring its ephemeral beauty. She thought perhaps, if she gazed at it deeply enough, she could gain a sense, a taste of what it was used for; understand how it worked, but she was distracted by the many other elegantly constructed wonders that caught her eye. Humming contentedly, she immersed herself in examining the many fascinating constructs left out on display.
She smiled warmly even as Malek’s tone grew increasingly urgent before Rens abruptly cut him off. She enjoyed what she could almost imagine was a faint harmonious song vibrating from the rainbow sheen of chords emanating from the crystal head of a staff mounted on a bronze display beside a particularly finely crafted bookcase. Almost despite herself, she raised her fingers as if to caress the fragile strands of harmonic energy flickering from the staff head. Grimacing, she forced herself to hold back at the last moment, lest her gentlest touch somehow snap the threads and disrupt the arcane harmonies.
Squire of War Page 36
