by AC Cobble
“I didn’t believe I’d ever return,” replied Anne. “I didn’t want to return, but here I am. We have need of your help. Mother Solomon says you still enter the Arcanum?”
“You want inside?”
Anne nodded.
The woman scowled and shook her head, her glossy black hair shimmering with the motion. She wore a set of coal gray robes, like those worn by spellcasters, except in the king’s drab colors instead of those worn to proclaim a particular form of magic. She was tall and thin and had the look of a person who was rarely pleased. “I encourage you to forget going into the Arcanum. You will not like what you find.”
“You work for the king?” asked Rew. “What, ah, what capacity do you serve him in?”
The woman glanced at Rew and then turned back to Anne. “You should leave this place. Go to wherever you’ve been hiding and stay there.”
“She works for the king,” said Anne, speaking to Rew but her eyes still on the other woman. “She came here shortly after the rebellion, shortly before you, Rew. She’s the king’s eyes and ears in this place.”
Lucia snorted then declared, “You’re better off not knowing what is happening within that compound. The king knows, which should be good enough for you. Tell them, Captain.”
“I don’t actually know what’s going on in there,” admitted Ang. “We were told to stay away.”
“As you should.”
“We’re not asking,” said Anne.
Lucia laughed. “You can threaten Mother Solomon, but you cannot threaten me.”
“Rew,” said Anne, turning to the ranger. “After you came here the last time, in the days that followed, Lucia was blamed for what happened to the previous Mother. Some of the women were quite cross with her and expressed it physically. Those women were escorted to Mordenhold and never heard from again, and Lucia almost died. It was my healing that saved her and my word that protected her after that. You and I left before Lucia had the chance to thank me.”
“Hear me now, then,” said Lucia. “This is my thanks to you. I advise you to avoid the Arcanum. You will regret going there.”
“Perhaps. You are obligated to me, though, and we need to get inside.”
Lucia grunted, shaking her head. “I am obligated to the king as well.”
“Was it guilt that kept you here? I thought someone of your talent would have moved on now, found a more prestigious posting. You wanted to die, didn’t you, when I saved you? Payment for the suffering you caused with your arrival.”
“I am sorry, Anne, but—“ The woman snapped her mouth shut.
Rew blinked at her then turned. The children, accompanied by Vurcell and the nameless woman, had just rounded the corner of Lucia’s cottage. The former ranger was giving a tour of the colony, though there was little to see.
“They’re with you?” asked Lucia.
Anne nodded.
Sighing, the gray-clad woman said, “One last warning, because I am obligated to you—you should turn from this, but if you insist, I will accompany you. Not all of you, though. Too many and… there are things inside of the Arcanum, now. It is unwise to enter with too many people. It’s still dangerous with just a few, but more than a few and it will mean our lives.”
“I’ll stay behind,” said Zaine quickly, walking up to the foot of the porch, evidently having overheard Lucia’s comments.
Rew snorted then looked around the group. “Ang, Vurcell, your place is out here. You’ve work to do, like we talked about. Raif, stay with Zaine.”
“Hold on—” began the fighter.
“The other girl?” interrupted Lucia.
Rew frowned at the grey-clad woman. “She’ll go.”
“Very well.”
“Ranger, if it’s dangerous inside…” said Raif, trying again.
“When the twins have done what we’ve discussed, I want you to train with them. There are some skills they can share with you which I haven’t found time to. Besides, Lucia seems to think the more people we bring, the more dangerous it will be. You’re helping protect your sister by staying behind.”
Raif looked skeptical, but Cinda gave him a nod, and with Zaine’s encouragement, he agreed to return to the fort.
“I’ll stay as well,” said the nameless woman.
Rew shook his head. “No, we need you to come with us.”
She frowned at him, but he remained firm. He hoped she thought he wanted her expertise on the Cursed Father, but the truth was they simply could not trust the woman. If she was working with Heindaw, then Rew wasn’t going to let her slip away and alert the prince of what they were finding, and whatever they did find, Rew wanted to see the woman’s reaction to it. He didn’t know if she was complicit in the prince’s plans, but he hoped to find out.
Lucia eyed the nameless woman silently. Rew had expected an objection, but it didn’t come. Anne looked to Rew, and he opened his mouth to tell her to stay as well.
“You should come,” said Lucia, staring at Anne. “We might need you.”
Cringing, the empath nodded.
Lucia declared it was best to go right away, if they were set on doing it. Rew shrugged, so she led them from the women’s colony up the hill toward the looming walls and towers of the Arcanum. The jagged thrusts of stone stood out like teeth when looked at from below. Rew swallowed and kept following the gray-clad woman, hoping it was just his imagination granting the place such an ominous aspect.
The nameless woman marched beside Lucia, and Rew studied both of their backs as they hiked the quarter league it took to come to the rambling walls of the Arcanum. The two women wore their attire like badges of allegiance, but allegiance to what? Rew wished he had time to conference with Anne, to learn what she knew of Lucia, but since they met the woman, there’d been no chance to break away and speak out of earshot.
Rew sighed. He yearned for the simplicity of facing his brothers with his longsword in hand, like when he’d tried to strike at Valchon in Carff or when he’d fought Calb in Jabaan. He needed that—unambiguous combat, simplicity. As they stood before a small entrance into the side of the Arcanum’s sprawling compound, he realized he would not have that, not here.
The wall around the Arcanum was built of large blocks of granite quarried somewhere in the mountains beyond. It was sturdy, but it had no battlement, and none of the normal defensive features of a serious fortress. The wall was built to keep out stray travelers who might have wanted a peek, not to withstand a siege. It seemed to have grown organically, crawling over the hills and cutting through the foot of the mountain as the Arcanum had expanded within its confines. Towers and halls, storerooms and workshops sprouted randomly like mushrooms after a storm. They’d grown as needed, with little planning, and had gnawed across whatever space the arcanists required. With no significant bodies of water and nothing but open plains beneath it, the Arcanum could spread unbound.
Rew frowned. Why was there no water nearby? Who built a city away from fresh water? He’d never considered it, but why was the Arcanum perched on the far fringe of the kingdom? It was as remote as Eastwatch, except outside Eastwatch, there was nothing but wilderness. Eastwatch had no visitors from the capital. No one ever had a reason to go there, but the Arcanum was a vital piece of Vaisius Morden’s power base. The arcanists there developed the tools and weapons he used to rule. Why was it so far away? It was as if it’d been placed there to make it difficult to visit.
Rew had little time to wonder as Lucia paused in front of a blank steel door. It was set discreetly in the wall, only a slender dirt path through the grass giving away its presence. She removed a short iron club from her belt and rapped sharply on the steel door. She repeated the sequence, and Rew realized it was a code.
In moments, he heard a scrape of steel, and the door swung outward. In the entrance was a man clad in the black tabard of the king’s legions. He had a short sword on his belt and clutched a gleaming, black steel crossbow. His face was covered by a sturdy helm, and in the shadows of the doorwa
y and the armor, Rew could not see the man’s eyes.
The ranger was taken aback. Ang and Vurcell had told him that none of their men were stationed within the Arcanum. No one from their command had ventured inside of the place for a month. Who was this man? Was it one of the missing soldiers?
After evidently recognizing Lucia, the guard wordlessly stepped out of the way. The woman led them inside of the Arcanum. Then, the guard slammed the steel door and turned a crank, locking it. Rew glanced behind them as they walked through a tunnel in the wall and saw the silent guard facing the inside of the steel door, standing motionless in the dark. Rew shuddered. They’d expected it, but now, he could feel it. Something was wrong.
He regretted not insisting either Ang or Vurcell accompany them, but both of the twins had tasks to do back at the fort—work for the king and work for Rew.
The tunnel through the wall was thick with shadow. There was no light except for the opening at the far end. The guard evidently spent his entire shift in that darkness. Why didn’t he come out on the street where he could still hear the clang of Lucia’s club but enjoy the light of the sun?
The tunnel was longer than Rew would have guessed, looking at the wall from the outside of the Arcanum. It was darker as well until, in the palm of Cinda’s hand, a pale white-green glow emanated, casting its light in front of them. Even her funeral fire seemed wan inside the tunnel.
Lucia eyed Cinda but did not comment. She led them out onto a broad, dirt street. It was as wide as one might expect to find in a medium-sized town, but instead of hard-packed soil or mud, the way was filled with grass that grew tall beside the buildings, and only a small strip was worn bare in the center from the irregular passage of feet.
The street twisted languidly, curving around buildings and towers, flowing naturally deeper into the compound. The thrusting towers had been raised with little concern as to what was around them, simply stabbing upward where they were to suit the esoteric needs of the arcanists. In the distance, Rew saw the one tower which leaked tattered purple smoke, and he heard a rumbling nearby coming from some contraption hidden within a building. And that was all. There were no people on the streets, no one peeking out of the nearby windows. No animal sounds, not even birds. There was also no damage that he could see to the place, no bodies in the streets or charred rooftops which indicated an attack. The Arcanum was just empty. It was like the place had been abandoned.
But that wasn’t it either because they’d seen the guard at the door, and Lucia regularly came to visit to keep an eye on someone. Mother Solomon said she had other women bringing food and supplies periodically. To whom?
Rew stepped toward Lucia. “Where are the people?”
“Gone,” she declared. “I warned you. You shouldn’t have come here.”
“We had to,” retorted Anne.
Shrugging and giving the empath a sour look, Lucia turned to Cinda. “Allow me to guess why. This is the girl responsible for Jabaan?”
Rew coughed, suddenly regretting allowing one of the king’s spies to lead them.
“Pfah, you didn’t think word of that event would spread like wild fire? Blessed Mother, the girl is wearing the robes of a necromancer. Do you take me for a complete fool? I knew what you wanted the moment I saw her.”
“You’re right,” said Cinda, her voice cutting life a knife. “I was responsible for Jabaan. It… We want to make sure that does not happen again. We thought that here, in the Arcanum, there may be someone who can help me… help us, that is.”
“There’s no one here, lass,” said Lucia, some of the ice melting from her tone. “The arcanists who could have helped you are gone. Dead. You will not find what you are looking for.”
“Someone is here,” said Cinda, pointing up toward the tower where the purple smoke spilled out. “Perhaps they are not who we came for, but—“
“That is not someone you want to see,” declared Lucia. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “There is something you can see, a place I can take you. You may… learn something there about yourself, about what you’re capable of, and about what happened to the Arcanum. Some things are better left unknown, but you are here, and this place has some of your answers.”
“Let’s get on with it,” said Rew, tapping his foot impatiently.
Lucia continued, “Anne, I will take you, but not because you helped me in the past. Instead, because you helped me, I’ll offer you one last chance to turn from this.”
“Well, after all of these dramatics, you have to take us now,” quipped Rew. He offered, “Bring us to someone, or somewhere, that can be of help, and then you may leave.”
“I don’t work for you. I can leave anytime I want.”
“Take us to this place, and then, your obligation to me is completed,” said Anne.
Grunting, Lucia picked up her gray skirts and began walking confidently into the Arcanum at a brisk pace. The dark granite was silent around them except for occasional muffled sounds that even Rew found difficult to source. He spied a few additional streamers of smoke from towers in the distance, but the street looked abandoned, with scant evidence of regular traffic. Lucia strode with purpose, though. She knew where she was going.
“Does the king know the state of this place?” asked Rew, thinking back to how bustling it’d been years ago when he’d last visited. It’d been a grim place, dangerous, but it’d been alive. Now…
“Of course the king knows what happens inside of his own Arcanum. The king’s coffers support the work that occurs here.”
“And what does he say about it?”
“The king does not explain his plans to me. I report what I see and what I know, and he does what he pleases with that information. He… His plans are not for me to know.”
Lucia turned and began a brisk walk down the weed-strewn street, and Rew and the others were forced to scurry in her wake without further questions. Before she’d moved on, Rew had caught her look and saw that beneath her exterior, which was as hard as the granite walls of the place, she was disturbed. She must have known what Arcanist Salwart was working on and had told the king, but why hadn’t Vaisius Morden done anything about it?
Or had he? It was one of his legion who’d been guarding the door.
The last time Rew had seen the Arcanum had been a decade before, and then, it’d been a noisy, thrumming hub of activity. Dozens of arcanists had lived there, supported by ten times as many assistants. They’d had others who tended to the place and cared for their mundane needs. Women from the colony were frequent visitors, and it was common to see guests from all over the kingdom coming to inquire about esoteric knowledge or to commission research.
The occupants of the Arcanum had been feverishly plumbing the depths of possibility. They studied ancient texts and conducted new experiments, all striving to be the one who wrote the next tome which would be enshrined in their libraries. It was all that such men cared about, understanding what others had discovered then adding their own contribution to the repository of human wisdom. If they could do so while disproving some theory laid down before their time by another arcanist, all the better. Something had interrupted that work. Something had caused those men to flee.
It wasn’t uncommon for arcanists to be maimed or killed during their experimentations. They pushed the boundaries of what was safe, or sensible, in a gamble to unearth the next major leap in understanding. Usually, they managed to ensure it was their assistants who bore the brunt of experiments gone afoul, but even in the worst cases, the largest explosions or the more virulent releases of trapped magical energy, it was only a handful of people and a few buildings that were destroyed. There was a reason even the meanest structures in the place were constructed of thick granite blocks, but it didn’t appear anything had been destroyed. Each building they passed was perfectly intact, if uncared for in some cases.
Lucia knew. She had to know.
They passed the slender, pale-stone tower where the wisps of vibrant purple smoke blew off
into the breeze far above their heads. It was the place they’d seen from outside of the walls.
Rew caught up to Lucia and asked, “Can we… Should we stop here and speak to whoever is inside? Perhaps they can tell us—”
“This tower is Arcanist Reynald’s abode,” explained Lucia, cutting Rew off. “He rarely leaves his tower, and he doesn’t know much more of what’s going on in the Arcanum than you do. He’s dangerous, and we’re all the better for the fact he rarely ventures out. He’s a madman, and even I avoid him as much as possible.”
“What’s he working on?” questioned Rew, pointing up at the trailing smoke.
“Chemical combinations which could be used in warfare. Poisons,” responded Lucia with a wicked smile. “He intends to bottle the concoctions and have soldiers throw them at their enemies or perhaps fling them from some device. If he’s successful, it could harken a new era of warfare.”
“Chemicals that would… poison the enemy?”
“Yes, but on a mass scale. Clouds of toxic vapor, like some spellcasters can unleash, except every soldier in an army would be capable of it.”
“That’s horrific,” said Rew, unconsciously taking a step back from the tower, looking nervously up at the smoke drifting innocuously on the wind.
“Don’t worry, Ranger,” assured Lucia. “The man has been working on it for the last two decades, and he’s yet to perfect his mixture. He’s also yet to kill himself during the process, which makes him rare amongst practicing arcanists. I’m not certain if that’s due to uncharacteristic caution or a lack of skill in mixing the potions to be deadly. Not that he never stumbles across something lethal. You can see the buildings around his tower have been unoccupied for years, long before the current troubles. Trust me, there’s a good reason. It’s best to stay clear of Arcanist Reynald.”
“How many others like him still reside within this place?”
Lucia shrugged. “I’m not a tour guide, Ranger.”
“You’re being rather obtuse…”
