"One of only two possibilities exists, I fear, for the theft of the fragment,” Aeligon said after relaying the history of Elfstones to Pux. The Healer was thinking aloud more than anything, and truly didn't care if Pux was listening or not. He continued. “First, it was stolen by Ashinon himself, which I can hardly claim to even be a possibility, but the fragment was originally entrusted to him, so I must entertain it. The second, and most likely theory, is that an unknown entity has taken it. The culprit would have to possess one of the Wild Magics said to have cursed this land long ago. Wild Magic, born from the Hand of Wrantha, has the power to counter the gods’ power."
Pux's voice piped up from within the staff. “Well, with the way things have been going lately, I'd say such would be the most likely scenario. By the way, do you mind me asking now what happened to you in the catacombs? The others and I were reluctant to bring it up before because of your physical condition. I only ask now because all this seems to be tied together in some way. The magic of the mirror fragment appears to have been one of the Wild Magics you're talking about."
"I can't remember, Pux,” Aeligon answered sadly. “I wish I could, but I can't. I remember the voice telling me to look into the mirror fragment, taunting me, but then everything went black. The last thing I recall clearly was the fight with the Cray."
"Master, you used . . . The Song,” he said, pausing with caution before mentioning the power Aeligon had unleashed on the Cray. “Do you remember that?"
Aeligon licked his lips, then shook his head. “Some things can't be explained by mere remembrance, Pux. Tristandor briefly mentioned I had used it, but I brushed it off as insignificant. The truth is, I don't believe I was consciously controlling it."
"What?” Pux gasped. “But, Master, do you know what that means?"
"Yes, I do. The world is unbalanced. My magical energy is reacting to my emotional responses instead of following my commands. It started with The Song, but I fear it may progress into other areas. Thus I haven't brought it up to anyone. I had to wait until the opportune moment to even mention it to you. But, fear not, I may find a remedy while we're here. We're going to visit Library Hall on the fifth floor. There are many books published on magical energy and how it reacts to our world, so I hope to find an answer there. I was lax about studying these areas in my youth, a decision I now regret. Knowing the cause of this could end up saving my life in the long run."
Though Aeligon grew silent, he secretly acknowledged his own failure. He was filled with shame and guilt. Had it not been for his pursuit of a frivolous passion, he might have spent his time studying further those things he did not fully understand. He was much younger then, and no wizard was without flaw. To justify it, he pinpointed what had been set in motion, piecing events of the past with the present to formulate the future. Had it not been for the love...no, he dared not dwell on it, not even within his own mind. He needed to focus to find any clues Ashinon may have left. “Ah, here we are,” he muttered, thankful Pux hadn't pressed him further.
The pair stepped out from the dark stairwell and into a pitch-black room. Aeligon waved his hand, and instantly the room illuminated for them. They were standing in what appeared to be a small library: Ashinon's personal library. The room was simple: three bookshelves lined three of the four walls from floor to ceiling, and a reading desk sat in the middle of the room. There was a lone candlestick set on the desk, a quill set in an ink jar, and some blank parchment lying about. It looked about as simple a place as any, and it bothered Aeligon when he could sense no magical energy present.
"I need you to help me look around, Pux.” Pux's face formed in the top end of the staff, and they began looking over the room carefully for any sign of an item misplaced or out of the ordinary.
It didn't take Aeligon long to find something. “Look! A book's missing here.” He ran his finger along a row of leatherback books until he came to the opening where a book once resided. “And look here...ashes.” Sure enough, ash and charred material was scattered inside the opening, along the sides of the neighboring books and on the outer rim of the bookshelf. Aeligon wiped a bit of it on his finger and brought it to his nose for a whiff. “No way to tell how recently this occurred,” he muttered after the brief investigation. “This is quite peculiar. A volume was incinerated here without so much as singeing any of its neighbors...almost like it wasn't really burned at all, but left behind a trail of ash to mark its departure nonetheless. It would certainly be helpful to know what book used to be here."
He bent down and picked up the scattered parchments from the floor. Curiously, he began leafing through them. There were hastily scribbled markings on some of the pages, making them very difficult for Aeligon to read. He tried reading them aloud as best he could. “This will...be my last...plea before I leave you. The burning book...has let me see...all that...I can't read this part. To whomever finds this letter...let this be...warning...the secret of the elf...what is this word...Elfstones? Evil is trying to...exposure...trying to...I can't finish this either. Here we go, a much clearer part. I have put a spell on the book that will only allow the heir of the Enath-Hudain's legacy to read it without it bursting into flames. The secrets contained therein are much too . . . important to entrust to . . . prying eyes. Each time the book is read . . . another unworthy . . . it burns and turns to cinders . . . but the essence . . . follows the spell's line of . . . I can't finish the rest."
Aeligon set the papers down and reflected. It wasn't hard to see what secret Ashinon had left behind, though there were some crucial pieces to the letter missing. “Ashinon obviously had in his possession a book revealing the secrets of the Planes and the Elfstone fragments. Also, according to this letter, the book, if read by another unworthy subject, bursts into flame and turns to cinder, but not before its essence flees to another area to be reborn. Which means that someone already was here and tried to read the book. Maybe it was Ashinon testing his theory."
Pux nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, I figured as much too, but it would've helped if he left some clue to the book's path. It could be halfway across Vaaluna right now. It could be in a grave, underground, inside the belly of a stone golem. If so, we'll never find it in time. This is much more serious now than before."
"This book must prove the Planes’ existence and provide answers to the evil spreading through our Plane! Don't you see, Pux? We live in one of these otherworldly dimensions Ashinon studied so tirelessly. He's trying to clue us in on that fact."
"Yes, but how are we to find this book? What else does it contain which may be crucial to defeating the likes of Haarath?"
"I'm not worried about Haarath as much as I was before, Pux."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"I believe Haarath is also under the influence of powers greater than his own. If the Planes truly do exist, and they contain secrets monumental enough to alter our view of our world, then it would be easy to assume other forces are at work here, trying to use the unwitting amongst us to inadvertently change the course of our world for their purposes. Ashinon is thus warning us here by placing the spell on that book. He needed to hide it from the evil forces who would seek to destroy it, to ensure the preservation of its secrets for the only one who could use them to a purposeful end."
"But who is the one ‘worthy'? Is there even one single person here who has this ability?"
"Yes,” Aeligon paused, a grim expression forming on his face, “but I fear whomever I feel is worthy will not want to hear this news. No, not at all.” He looked around the room hurriedly, then back to the table where the papers were. “We need to find a clue pointing to the location of the book. The one who is able to read it is in our small company here, Pux."
"Must be an elf . . . it figures.” Pux snorted. “They get all the glory, live extremely long lives, have the best archery skills, and..."
His voice trailed off as Aeligon's focus turned to finding the clue to steer them in the right direction. Suddenly, he smiled. “There it is.” H
e slid the papers apart with his hands, pulling one out with some pattern of words written on it. He read them: Follow the blood of the most pure, then of the cursed, then back to magic's might; only then will you learn of my pages’ flight. After reading them, he showed them to Pux.
"Well, there's our clue all right, but what does it mean? The blood of the most pure could be anywhere."
Aeligon pondered and pondered. Then, he snapped his fingers together.
"The Krayn elves...they are the blood of the most pure. Remember, Pux? The Krayn elves are the direct descendents of Rasthow Srenlin; their blood is the purest of the elves who dwell in Vaaluna. Certainly not the Kelornian Dark Elves to the south and certainly not any other creature here.” Pux looked dejected. “Sorry, Pux, but it's the cruel truth. The elves are blessed beings."
"I see. So it means traveling back to Mynandrias to search...where? Doesn't it seem a waste to you?"
"The Library of Songs,” the wizard ventured. “If I were Ashinon, sending a book to an out-of-place destination would only draw more attention to it if found. Hiding it amongst thousands of books would be the most practical way of making it disappear."
"Yes, well, it appears we're guessing, at best, in any case,” Pux said glumly.
Aeligon dismissed Pux's negative comment and continued. “Next is the blood of the cursed. This can only mean one race: Men. Men are cursed above all others, which is easy to see because of all the corruption and deceit in their hearts. Where would there be so much cursed blood coming together in one place? There are so many choices—Resforian and her corrupt political figures, Greshgon in the south with her warmongers..."
"I know,” Pux interrupted, “the seaport of Drameda. Lots of scoundrels, pillagers, and plunderers make their home there."
"Yes, of course, good thinking Pux. Drameda is surely the strongest possibility. Now, about the third, which seems easiest. Back to magic's might... which would be here. If our assessments are correct, the book started here, someone looked at it who wasn't worthy, and it went to Mynandrias. If it hasn't been read, it would still be there, but if it has, it's in Drameda."
All of a sudden, the papers began to rustle. One of the blank sheets slid out from the main group, coming to rest on the desk. The quill rose from its ink bath by itself, floated to the parchment, and wrote two words: WELL DONE. The quill returned to the jar. Pux looked at Aeligon, who was nodding with approval, as he looked around and felt the strange warmth that had unexpectedly entered the room.
"Ashinon's spirit is still here with us, Pux. We solved the riddle. We need to tell this to the others. We don't know whether or not the book is in Mynandrias or Drameda, but we have to formulate a plan to search both places. We'll browse Library Hall later. Come."
Quickly, the pair took to the stairs, though they had to take several breaks on the flight up. Once they made it to the top, they nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Tristandor and Aerinas were waiting to help them.
Just then, a loud crash was heard out in the hallway from which the wizard had just emerged. Aerinas drew his glimmering sword, Tristandor his scimitar, and they both moved through the doorway. Aeligon rose and followed the pair.
Farrin and the others strained to see what all the commotion was about, but before they moved to investigate further, a figure was flung through the door backward. It appeared to be a wizard to them because of the lengthy garments he wore, but the burns and tears indicated potential foul play. The wizard landed heavily on his backside and began groaning and whining in pain.
"I tell you, I did nothing wrong!” he pleaded when the elves and the wizard came back through the doorway, weapons at the ready. “Please, Aeligon, it is I, Herlainis. I thought you were someone else, I swear!"
Aeligon stepped cautiously toward the begging wizard, then signaled for the elves’ weapons to be lowered. “Get him up,” he ordered.
Aerinas and Tristandor helped the injured wizard to his feet. Aeligon could see that Herlainis had gone through a good deal of abuse. The wizard was soiled from head to toe with black soot marks, burns, gashes, infected wounds, bruises, and all sorts of exterior damage to his cloak and outerwear.
"You must tell me, Herlainis, what happened here,” Aeligon said in a soothing voice.
"I can barely recall with real certainty, Aeligon, but it was awful. We were attacked from the sky by an evil thing, a creature of the night. Only when fire spat from its mouth did we get even a glimpse at the horror."
"A dragon?” Tristandor asked, confused.
"Let him finish,” Aeligon scolded. He silently motioned for Herlainis to continue.
"The first incident merely emptied the city of its wizards to fight the beast, whatever it was, but the real threat came also from the sky. Creatures I have never seen before were dropped into our midst. They had the heads of wolves, ferocity to match, and the bodies of strong men. They ran on two legs and had horrific yellow eyes."
The others exchanged glances; none of them recognized what the wizard was describing.
"The main group of them subdued the wizards guarding the Shrin'Gala, burst inside, and the pillar of Arunir's Light was quenched. Other men were with them as well—Senantor Pirates. Those we recognized. I fled, ran inside the city, and hid. Those creatures knew what they were after and wasted no time in plundering our city's depths. There were arguments, oh yes. One pirate was torn apart for attempting to come inside. Those wolf creatures followed orders without corruption, which means they were intelligent beings possessing the ability to discern between mission and gratification. I cannot remember anything else."
"Herlainis, I want you to stay here and don't come outside for any reason. Keep the door to the underground sections locked and sealed. Go to Library Hall and...” Aeligon's voice trailed off; he took Herlainis by the shoulder and walked him toward the door. The Healer handed him a vial of potion, shook his hand, and watched him go through the door.
Aeligon returned to the gathering, a quizzical look on his face. “Herlainis just told me he recalled something else. Those creatures were taking the wizards alive, if they could. One by one they were forced to the ground, bound, and whisked away, which is very strange indeed.” Aeligon stared into the sky for a moment. “All of you come closer and have a seat."
Everyone came over and sat down on the cold, hard slate walkway. Aeligon relayed the story of Ashinon's personal library, burning book, and trail of clues Ashinon left to its location each time it was read by the unworthy. Everyone listened intently, curious eyes cast in Aerinas’ direction when mention of the word ‘worthy’ came to Aeligon's lips. He felt them probing for answers, but he ignored them.
"So, we have two choices: follow the line of clues to either Mynandrias or Drameda. Either way we are risking valuable time. You've just heard what happened here. More of the same will be unleashed on our world."
"We are also forgetting to mention the risk to our lives if we enter Drameda,” Tristandor said grimly. “Foreigners aren't welcome there, and we are the sort of foreigners they most despise."
"It matters not,” Aeligon snapped. “If the book is there, we must try to locate it. The secrets contained inside are key to figuring out what Haarath's plans are for the fragment stolen from this city. I will not placate fears by going in the other direction or ignoring this task's importance."
"So, which way do we go?” Lynais asked. “We just came from Mynandrias, Aeligon, through the most treacherous ground we have covered yet. We can't turn back. Is there no other way we can find out if the book is in Mynandrias?"
"Let us send Wesnoc to find out,” Foran offered. “He can get there much faster. If it weren't so cold, one of us could go with him. Perhaps if we used magic to shield us from it?"
Aeligon shook his head. “That will arouse too much suspicion and curiosity amongst your people, to say nothing of the fact that sustaining a magic spell for the distance you're talking about is impossible. Politics will get in the way, and the book's secrets will be compromised."
<
br /> Ithyllna stood up and stepped forward. She drew something out of her pocket and showed to it the wizard. “Here, Nimoni gave me this. She told me I could use it when I needed help.” She dropped the silver and ivory whistle into his palm.
Aeligon's eyes widened. “Ithyllna, this is a most precious gift from the elves. Do you know what it does?"
Ithyllna shook her head.
"This whistle has a counterpart which Nimoni possesses. When your whistle is blown, the magic of the Krayn elves is unleashed.” He handed it back to her. “Go ahead, give it a blow."
Ithyllna looked around nervously, but took the whistle in both hands, brought it to her lips, and blew into it with all her might. Nothing happened. She tried it again, but still no sound came out. She started to shake it, feeling it may have been damaged internally during their journey.
Aeligon stopped her. “No, look, the soundless whistle calls the spirit of the other piece's possessor."
A cloud of smoke formed in the air above the group. The grayish plumes swooshed and swirled until a scene appeared in the middle. Everyone gasped.
"Nimoni!"
"Mother!"
The scene depicted some elves gathered around the still form of Nimoni at the infirmary in Mynandrias. An elf nurse was taking care of her, cooling her forehead with a moist cloth, while another was trying to make her comfortable. Three Elf-Lords were talking about what had happened. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the scene vanished.
Aeligon stood up and tossed his cloak around his shoulders. “I think the vision has spoken. She has seen something not meant for her eyes. We make for the seaport of Drameda at first light. Burn the roc's carcass.” His eyes shifted carefully to Aerinas, who had turned his hanging head away from them. Aeligon could sense the anguish without the elf uttering a word.
Tristandor grabbed the wizard's arm. “This is not fine. My wife has been hurt. How can you just turn and make a decision like this? I am the Elf-Lord here!"
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