by Eric Vall
“What should I do with this?” I asked and motioned to the plate.
“Oh, I can take care of it. It’ll give me something to do before I have to tend to the stables,” he said.
“Alright then. See you later!” I called to him and waved as I followed behind an annoyed Gawain. I reveled in my ability to get under his skin.
As we stepped outside of the inn, I took a deep breath. The air seemed cleaner here, and I wondered if it had something to do with the seal that protected it from the rest of the world. There were only a handful of people about despite the sun having been out for so long. By now it had to be somewhere close to noon, if not a little earlier. They were friendly and waved to us as we wandered out towards the street. I waved in kind, but Gawain wasn’t so nice.
“Would it kill you to be polite when someone waves?” I asked him.
“Why should I? I have you to do all of that for me,” he answered with an air of arrogance.
Ah, there it was, the bit of pompousness that remained which reminded me exactly who I was partnered with on this mission.
“You really are an ass, you know that?” I sighed, and Gawain shrugged.
“You’ll deal with it because that’s the kind of person you are,” he replied and put his hands in his pockets. “You complete the mission first and worry about your personal feelings second.”
I huffed. He was right, mostly. I did have a tendency to let my emotions get the better of me, though, especially when it came to the girls. I would admit it was maybe a weakness, but never aloud and never to Gawain Madox, not even if I were on my deathbed.
Well … maybe if I were on my deathbed, though still not likely.
“So, where are we going?” I stopped beside him and looked up and down the cobblestone path. There were little shops along the way, with cutesy storefronts and wooden signs that hung in the lawn or the windows, but from what I could tell, they were mostly homes. Tietra really was small. It was no wonder Maelor and I never made it out this way. This place was pristine and only big enough for the mages who had fled here.
“According to Knick when I asked him this morning, the library is on top of the hill,” Gawain informed me. “Said it was the only establishment in the area, so we couldn’t miss it.”
“Oh, well that’s convenient,” I replied. “Let’s go.”
Tietra, I noticed along our walk, looked as though they hadn’t had a single monster attack. Unlike many of the other villages and hub towns in the Wilds, there were no signs of damage from past invasions, no battle scars so to speak. In other places, there were still some remnants of what used to be, homages to those who had been lost in the fight. There was nothing like that here.
“Do you think the barrier around the town protects them from monsters?” I asked Gawain.
He shook his head. “Why would I know that?”
“Because … I don’t know.” I frowned. “It’s just strange there isn’t anything that indicates they’ve ever been attacked, you know?”
Gawain was silent for a moment, then glanced at me. “Yes, I did notice that as well.”
So, it wasn’t just me. That was a relief.
As we reached the top of the hill, we were able to see the library in full. There were two small fountains, one on either side of the walkway up to the door, with angels who danced in the center of them. The building itself looked small and not nearly as impressive as it had been made out to be.
“Are we sure this is the place?” I questioned.
“This is where Knick said to go,” Gawain answered as he looked the place up and down. “It isn’t so grand, is it?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I told him, and we both shrugged.
“Go knock on the door,” Gawain ordered as he pushed me forward.
“What? You go knock, chicken shit!” I snickered as I turned to pull him in front of me.
“What did you call me?” Gawain hissed, and he swung his arm out to smack me away. I dodged him and pushed him further up the walk.
“You heard me,” I called to him. He was practically on top of the door now, so there was no reason for him not to knock.
He conceded and balled his hand into a fist. His eyes pointedly glared at me as he knocked deliberately slow, and I barely held in the laugh that wanted to bubble from my lips.
“Enter,” we heard quietly through the other side of the hefty wooden door. Gawain wrapped his fingers around the ornate handle and pulled it open. It creaked, and sunlight poured in as we stepped through the threshold.
What we saw was far beyond what should be physically capable of such a small establishment. Books, thousands of them, lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling which went well above our heads. I had to step out again then rush back in to try and comprehend how the roof was able to extend like that, but I could find there was no conceivable reason.
Lanterns sat and hung in scattered places, and none of them matched. Some were white and with colored porcelain flowers that bloomed from the top, and others were intricately designed iron wrought with thick black chains hung from their tops. The floor was mostly dusty dark wood with faded carpet runners to cover up the old scratches in the finish.
“Whoa … ” I trailed off as I took everything in. This place was like nothing I had ever seen. Even the library in Varle wasn’t this expansive, and it was kept relatively up to date with new publications and findings. The books in this library, however, looked as though they had seen a thousand suns, and they were stacked from dusty floor to vaulted ceiling.
There was a small writing desk in the center of it all, complete with a bottle of ink, a quill, and a long roll of parchment strewn across it. On the stool sat a man of short stature and a beard as long as Sleet’s though his was as white as snow. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses, and his nose was slightly crooked. His hair was as stark as his beard was short but shockingly still full.
“Hello?” I called to him, and he smiled as he looked up at Gawain and I. “We’re looking for Calamar Sterling.”
The old man nodded. “You have found him, young mages.”
Gawain stepped closer and fished the tablet from the satchel at his side. “We’re hoping you can give us some information about this.”
The man who claimed to be Elder Sterling adjusted his glasses and took a hard look at the tablet. After a long moment, he looked up to us again.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, and Gawain looked to me.
“I don’t know where the tablet came from,” I admitted. “A comrade and I pilfered it from a band of thieves at the request of Headmaster Sleet of the Varle Academy.”
Sterling nodded shortly. “Is that all?”
“Well, no, sir. Not exactly,” I answered sheepishly as I brandished the cipher and book from my own bag.
With an impatient sigh, Sterling motioned for me to bring it closer. I handed them over to him, and he examined each piece carefully before he seemed to take more of an interest.
“What are your names?” he asked.
“My name is Gryff. This is Gawain,” I introduced. “We’re students from the Academy.”
Sterling looked us over with his blue, beady eyes. “A summoner and an elementalist?”
“Yes, sir,” we answered together.
He nodded again and then hopped down from his stool. It was only when his head disappeared behind the desk and he came around that I realized Calamar Sterling only came up to my hip. He waddled past me to a shelf on the far left, and then snapped his fingers.
A ladder suddenly came flying down the rails and stopped abruptly in front of him. He climbed them until he reached the second to the top shelf, then pulled down a blue-covered book, where the binding was barely intact. He descended, and then returned to us.
“What do either of you know about the Mistral Guardians?” he asked with obvious excitement in his eyes.
I looked to Gawain who shook his head, and I swallowed thickly.
“I’m not sure if it
’s the same thing you’re talking about,” I started, “but does it have something to do with the seals on the door at the inn?”
Gawain eyed me suspiciously. “What are you on about?”
“Tem, Knick’s brother, told me earlier this morning that the etchings in the doors were symbols for the guardians who sacrificed themselves to keep the balance between the monster world and our own,” I explained.
“Ah yes, they are one and the same,” Sterling confirmed. “Each of the guardians was a mage once, just like you and I.”
“What happened to them?” I asked.
“It is as you said, Mr. Gryff. They are no longer of this world. Instead, they reside in the realm of monsters as protectors.” Sterling hopped back up on his stool and opened the book flat. He skimmed through the pages at a rapid pace that made the hairs in his beard flutter in the wind.
He finally stopped at a page near the back and put his hands on the desk as he leaned close to Gawain and me.
“Ages long past told of a tale of which could end the quarrel between men and monsters, but the pieces of that story have been lost, scattered and burned through time,” Sterling started. “It’s said the Mistral Guardians were key to this process, but no one knew how they fit into the equation. The guardians always assumed their sacrifices would be enough.”
“Clearly it’s working,” Gawain commented sarcastically and crossed his arms.
“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Sterling stroked his beard languidly. “These mages gave their lives to protect us and keep our worlds from certain mayhem, but now look at us all. We’re so lost in politics and what’s right in front of us that we are too afraid to look to the past for answers.”
“That’s all well and good, but what do the ciphers have to do with these Mistral Guardians?” Gawain questioned anxiously.
“Do not rush me, boy!” Sterling rolled up a piece of spare parchment from his desk and whacked him on the head with it.
Gawain rubbed his head, more likely from the sting of chastisement from an elder than any pain, but allowed him to continue.
“This book is one of the pieces of the story,” he explained, “as is the tablet. However, it appears the text is written in an ancient language that has been long forgotten by mages today.
Gawain shook his head. “Hang on, old man. I thought the war only began a century ago. Do you mean to tell us the battle between man and monster has been ongoing for millennia?”
Sterling nodded. “If not longer, yes.”
Gawain and I looked at each other. That was a shock, to say the least.
“Do you think the powers that be are trying to lie about that as well?” I asked the elder.
“Well, I can’t imagine why it would be an exception,” Sterling scoffed and sat back in his stool. “They’ve lied about most everything else to keep the citizens in a constant state of fear.”
My stomach lurched. I needed to sit down. I looked around, and after I found no spare chairs, I sat on the dusty ground with my knees brought to my chest.
“I still don’t understand,” Gawain pressed.
Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose. For as old as he was and as eager as he must have been to tell the story, he certainly had little patience. He took out a pipe from his desk drawer and kicked his stubby legs up on his desk.
“Give me a light, would you?” he asked Gawain, who looked stunned.
“How did you know I was a fire elementalist?” He looked the old man up and down skeptically.
“My lantern lights keep growing brighter the more heated you become,” Sterling told him, and Gawain had enough manners to be sheepish as he snapped his fingers and produced a small flame for him. Sterling took a few puffs of whatever was in his pipe. It smelled like flowers, whatever it was, and it was rather pleasant on my senses despite my general feeling of unease.
“The book and the tablet you have in your possession were likely written by an old scholar like myself many centuries ago.” He barked a laugh suddenly and then continued. “For all we know, one of them could have been written by one of the sacrificed mages themselves, but we have no way of knowing the true tale until we can read the language in which it is written.”
“That’s where the ciphers come into play, right?” I grinned to myself as I put the pieces together.
“Exactly, young summoner.” Sterling smiled. “Unfortunately, I do not have any myself, but I do know of a tale that alludes to where they could be located.”
I perked up. That was indeed some useful information. I wondered if that was something Sleet already knew, though, since he had sent us all to various parts of Mistral to find them.
“Well, out with them then,” Gawain pressed.
“Hmmm … ” Sterling trailed off in thought. He hopped off his chair again and waddled to the back of the library this time. He motioned for Gawain and me to follow, so I jumped to my feet.
The further back we walked, the quicker I realized we were actually descending in a spiral. The books on the shelves began to slant, and the lanterns started to burn brighter the deeper we went.
“Just how many books are here?” I asked in a complete state of wonder.
“Exactly nine hundred thousand and four,” Sterling replied matter-of-factly.
I chuckled. “Not that you’re counting or anything.”
“I have, Mr. Gryff,” Sterling sniffed, “over one thousand times.”
My jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
“Of course,” he replied. “What reason would I have to joke about such a serious matter?”
I shook my head as I tried to backpedal. “Er, no reason, sir.”
Gawain snorted behind me, and I shot him a glare over my shoulder as we continued our journey lower and lower.
The bottom opened up into another large room with even more books. The back wall, however, was the only place void of any texts. Instead, there was a large map of our world, Mistral.
Sterling hobbled up to the map and stepped onto a small wooden stool to examine it more closely before he turned to face us again.
“This map has been passed around through my family for generations,” he began. “As a lad, I was told the map itself held a great power, one that was strong enough to destroy the entirety of our people.”
I gaped. “Why would you keep such a thing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Gawain asked. “To keep it from those with ill intentions.”
“Oh, right.” I grinned.
“Precisely,” Sterling agreed. “However, it is also said the map wields the power to save us as well, and it is increasingly more and more apparent we mages need all the help we can get if we plan on keeping the balance between Mistral and the world of monsters.”
“A map can do all that?” Gawain asked skeptically.
While I was inclined to agree with him, it did seem a little farfetched, but maybe there was something I was missing in all of this. I decided to hold my tongue and let the elder tell us what he could.
“Come, come.” Sterling motioned us closer still.
As we stepped up to the map, I noticed there was writing in certain places. Each of them was four lines long, and they had appeared to be in a similar pattern, like a poem.
“I don’t get it.” Gawain sighed as he grew frustrated. “How is this supposed to help us?”
I continued to look closely at the map of Mistral, and I pulled out my own that was given to us in our mission file. I held it up to compare. Sure enough, there were a few differences over the years, but they were, in essence, the same.
“Maybe we don’t need the text,” I mumbled, and it was more to myself, but it drew both Gawain’s and Sterling’s attention.
“What do you mean?” Gawain scoffed. “Of course we do.”
“Maybe, but look at where the text is,” I argued as I pointed to one spot in particular that was near Ortych Sands, our ultimate destination. “This one seems to be relatively close to where Sleet is sending us, right? Maybe there
’s a connection.”
Gawain seemed to consider this, but he still looked skeptical.
“Ah, Marangur Sleet.” Sterling chuckled. “He is a wise one. It is possible he had a vague idea of what he was doing when he deployed the two of you.”
I shook my head. “So then, these texts on your map … do you think they’re supposed to show us where the other ciphers are?”
“Why, I think that’s exactly what it’s showing us, Mr. Gryff.” Sterling nodded. Then he turned back to the map on the wall. We were silent for a moment, and then Gawain began to read one of the poems aloud.
Shield your eyes, a storm comes.
Its heart will beat just like the drums.
The sands of time will weather you
And lead you to untimely doom.
He frowned and crossed his arms. “That isn’t helpful at all.”
“It’s a warning,” I suggested. “Where it’s placed on the map is the location, but maybe the poem is a warning of what’s protecting it?”
Sterling stroked his chin. “A possibility indeed.”
“Read another one,” I told Gawain, and he leaned over to one near where the Academy was now erected.
He squinted his eyes and then shook his head. “I can’t. The writing is too faded.”
“Try a different one?” I tried again, and Gawain rolled his eyes.
This time, he leaned close to one that appeared to be in the middle of the sea.
Within the ebb and pull of the sea
That is where you’ll find me.
Sink into my tidal depths
And find me before your final breaths.
Gawain stepped back and looked over his shoulder at me. “Happy now?”
I hung my head in thought. What did it all mean?
Sterling cleared his throat. “If I were you boys, I’d take the utmost precaution during the rest of your journey.”
“That much is clear,” Gawain replied flatly. “As if there wasn’t enough to worry about between bandits on the roads and the chances of rifts popping up at random, now we have to worry about whether the hunt for these ciphers is going to be the death of us.”
