The Circles of Magic

by Gabriela Fišerová

  Seeing as they could have theoretically attacked each other—though Tempest had never been aggressive to her fellow squawkers before—this was a very good outcome.

  Once again, Wyn asked Edwyr to follow him, which he did, throwing one last look back at Tempest over his shoulder. He knew she would be fine, but Edwyr always got nervous about leaving her alone in an unfamiliar place.

  They walked back to the original crossroads and took the path on the right this time, heading up and up until finally, they reached a large circular room, almost halfway taken up by a strange machine. Edwyr stared at it with wide eyes. This must have been what Wyn had spoken about earlier.

  Edwyr frowned at the massive, bulbous object in front of him. It was blue and shiny as if made of some precious gem or perhaps colored glass. There didn’t seem to be much more to it than that, aside from thick, metal rings that went vertically over the device, and some metal at the top and bottom of it.

  Edwyr swallowed. How exactly was this device going to give him magic? He didn’t doubt it would work, but he couldn’t help but worry about the actual process. Once again, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but the sight unnerved him just a little.

  “Orenis, how go the preparations?” Wyn asked, bringing Edwyr out of his thoughts. He only then noticed a new elf standing right next to the device, apparently called Orenis. Even from a distance, she looked far too fascinated with the massive orb. Unlike Wyn, she was wearing leather armor, quite similar to Edwyr’s.

  He felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. This was likely another magicless elf, or at least she had been originally—in fact, Edwyr was almost certain of it. But he’d never actually meant another elf like him. He wasn’t sure if it should feel monumental, but it certainly did, and he wasn’t sure how to react. It was nice to know that he truly wasn’t alone in this, but being reminded that more elves were in the same situation as him made him furious.

  “It would go better if you didn’t keep asking,” Orenis grumbled without even looking at either of them, shaking her head. Edwyr frowned as he noticed that the hair on the side of her head that wasn’t facing them seemed to be much shorter than the rest. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen that hairstyle on a human, let alone an elf, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by this, given that Orenis wasn’t affiliated with the Council, either.

  Actually, it was strange that Wyn looked so normal, now that Edwyr thought about it. The elf could go back to Aendor, and he would visually fit right in, as long as he braided his hair.

  Orenis shook her head and sighed, finally putting a halt to her fiddling with the device. “Sorry, Wyn. Getting this one to work is harder for some reason.” She finally looked over at Wyn. “But I will get it done, don’t worry about….”

  She trailed off as she looked directly at Edwyr, likely only then noticing he was there. Her face broke into a grin as she practically ran over to him, throwing her hand forward for a handshake. “Oh, someone new! Hello!”

  Edwyr frowned, shaking her hand hesitantly. Orenis seemed to have too much energy, and he never knew what to do with people like this. Though this was further proof this elf had lived in the human world for a long time—she was far too expressive otherwise. “Yes, hello. I’m—”

  “Edwyr, right? Wyn’s been talking about you.” Orenis winked as she said this, prompting Edwyr to narrow his eyes at Wyn, expecting an explanation. But Wyn was firmly staring off to the side, not meeting Edwyr’s gaze.

  Edwyr wanted to outright ask him what this was about, but he didn’t get a chance to because soon Orenis started talking again. “Nice to meet you! I’m Orenis. Obviously.” She let out a laugh as she put her hands on her hips. “I know this must all be confusing right now, meeting us and all, but don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

  She’d meant that as a joke, but Edwyr was increasingly less convinced that he in fact would be fine.

  “So, this thing is supposed to give me magic?” Edwyr asked instead of commenting on what had just been said, pointing at the device. The more he looked at it, the less it seemed like it belonged in this world. It wasn’t magical, and yet it seemed to be. But someone had built it, with or without the use of magic, and the question of why they’d done so was one Edwyr would like explained.

  And also how it worked. He supposed it could be possible that it had been used to fix elves like him, assuming their ancestors had built, but this explanation seemed illogical to him. Why would the Council simply not just give elves like him magic if they had the means to? There were too few elves already without losing more to the Curse.

  “That’s right,” Orenis replied with enthusiasm. “As soon as I manage to switch it on properly. Shouldn’t take long now that you’re here and Wyn will bug you instead of me.”

  Orenis laughed again as Wyn sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he was getting a headache from her. “Yes, thank you, Orenis.” Then he turned to Edwyr, very obviously trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. “Would you please excuse us for just a moment, Edwyr?”

  Edwyr shrugged, nodding, and stood there as he watched Wyn and Orenis walk off somewhere to the back of the room, behind the device. His immediate instinct was to try to eavesdrop, but he stopped himself there. He wanted to trust these people and getting caught listening in on their conversation would not help at all. He would try to get some information out of Orenis later, though, as she seemed much more willing to talk without being cryptic.

  So instead, he walked over to the massive, blue orb, studying it closely. The room was lit better than the other parts of this place, but there were still long shadows from the torches all around the room, and so Edwyr didn’t even notice that the device was nestled in a large hole in the stone ground. Without thinking he reached out, touching the glassy surface. It was incredibly smooth, far too much to have been made the human way, but it was also very cold. So much so that within a few seconds, Edwyr had to take his hand off it as the cold started to burn his hand.

  He looked down at his palm as he rubbed it, still feeling the freezing cold on his skin. Edwyr glared at the device, taking a step back. What was it made of to feel like this? And again, who had made this and why?

  The fact that he yet again had many questions was irritating, but at least now he should have an easier time getting answers. And if Wyn truly was being honest, he was going to give him those answers. He had already given Edwyr a lot of them, after all, despite his cryptic way of speaking.

  So while Edwyr couldn’t shake his suspicions, he also knew that he tended to treat all strangers, especially other elves, this way, and that he shouldn’t always listen to his paranoia. Especially because of how much there was at stake here. This was his first and likely only chance at escaping his awful fate, and nothing was worth losing it.

  20

  Feyrith truly hadn’t expected thick mist to roll in and completely blind him the moment they reached the ruins, but it didn’t take him even a second to put together that it was magical in origin. Someone had summoned it, which meant an elf was somewhere around here, possibly about to attack them.

  Feyrith jumped off his quasir, grasping its reins in one hand as he took the staff into the other. Because he couldn’t see where he was going, it would be dangerous to try to journey further, and so he quickly tried to think of a spell that might get rid of the mist instead.

  Deciding to try a basic wind spell, Feyrith aimed his staff right in front of him and spoke the words, producing a gust of strong wind from the staff’s tip. A sense of pride filled Feyrith’s heart as a part of the mist was blown away, revealing the road. But that lasted only for a second as the mist returned, covering up everything once more.

  Feyrith gritted his teeth and tried the spell again, this time using a stronger version of it, but it had the same results, even after doing this several times in a sequence.

  He shook his head and climbed back onto the back of his quasir. He would simply have to run through the mist, using the wind spell to revea
l the path over and over as he went. With that decided he cast the spell again, making the quasir start walking down the ancient road.

  The beast let out a quiet snort, clearly unhappy about the mist, and Feyrith couldn’t blame it. Someone managing to create something like this and keeping it in place was disturbing on its own, but the fact that this had to be an elf was something different completely.

  Did that mean that this elf was working against the Council? That was the only reason Feyrith could think of to explain why someone would want to they make things difficult for him and his companions. But was that even possible? There was no record of any elf opposing the Council before. Not one with magic, anyway.

  Feyrith cried out as his quasir suddenly jumped up with an alarmed squawk, throwing Feyrith off. He landed on the hard, rocky ground with a cry, rolling a few times from the impact. Gritting his teeth as pain stabbed through his arm, Feyrith dragged himself to his feet as quickly as he could, grabbing his staff off the ground with both hands as he stared into the white mist. His heart made an uncomfortable flip as he realized that the quasir was gone. It must have run off.

  Why had it done that, though? The quasir had been calm until now. Feyrith swallowed, trying to not let his fear get to him, but it was difficult. The mist was putting him on edge. He could barely see his feet, let alone anything else, and it was unnerving.

  Feeling like someone was watching him, he spun around, but of course, no one was there. Or if there was, he couldn’t see them. Feyrith felt his anxiety spike at that thought. He needed to get moving, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to figure out which way to go. He needed to find the quasir as fast as possible, but if he chose the wrong direction, he would simply get farther away from it, and even though this mist had to go away eventually, who knew what might happen to his mount in the meantime.

  Feyrith tried to listen for any sound that might betray the quasir’s location, but everything was deathly silent. And Feyrith doubted that was a coincidence. His human companions had been only a few steps ahead of him when the mist had appeared, and so he would have heard their confused voices after the mist rolled in.

  Swallowing thickly, Feyrith once against cast the wind spell, giving himself a view of what was ahead of him. Unfortunately, his quasir was nowhere to be seen that way, unsurprisingly. He could try this with all directions, though this only let him see a few feet ahead, and Feyrith wasn’t sure how many times he could cast this spell before exhausting himself too much to be able to defend himself if he needed to.

  No, he knew what he should do. He had to summon a large gust of wind if he wanted to see anything. It would cost a lot of his energy, but it would at least give him a better view of the entire area—hopefully enough to either find his quasir, Edwyr and the humans, or both.

  He’d never been too great at these spells, but he at least theoretically knew them well because he’d been studying them for years now. He breathed in deeply, aiming the staff up above.

  “Ist’rah ai kes loria!” he cried, feeling a considerable amount of magical energy draining out of him as the mist above his head gave way to a clear blue sky. Loud, howling wind blew all around him, pushing the mist out of the way. As Feyrith felt his strength waning and the wind started losing intensity, he finally spotted his quasir, about thirty feet away from him. And before he could even call it, the beast was now running back towards him, its eyes wide and scared.

  “Fey!” came a sudden cry from behind him, making him turn around. Lanna was waving at him from the very edge of the mist, where it slowly taking shape again. Feyrith waited as Lanna ran towards him, dragging her quasir along with Arbane right behind her.

  Feyrith felt some of his anxiety dissipate when the humans reached him. Even though they were only human, they seemed to be quite good at fighting, and them sticking together to combine their strengths if something decided to attack them in this mist was for the best.

  Feyrith frowned as he suddenly realized that Edwyr was nowhere to be seen.

  “What the hell is this stuff?” Arbane asked, waving his hand around as if he was trying to touch the mist that was once again encroaching on them. His quasir, which was standing behind the man, its eyes wide and concerned, looked a little hazy to Feyrith due to the mist already.

  “Yeah, and where’s Edwyr? Have you seen him?” Lanna asked Feyrith, who simply shook his head. Edwyr had been ahead of them before the mist had appeared, so it would make sense that even with the strongest wind spell Feyrith could muster they hadn’t spotted him.

  Lanna sighed, brushing her hair off her face. “Can you do that wind thing again?”

  Feyrith didn’t want to admit that doing so would be beyond his abilities, but he would have to. “Unfortunately not.” He bowed his head in apology. “If I do, I will exhaust myself too much and not be able to protect you. An elf must have summoned this mist—”

  “An elf?” Arbane repeated, sounding even more confused than before. “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Feyrith replied, trying to swallow down the feeling of helplessness that came with that admission.

  Lanna and Arbane exchanged a worried look. “We need to find Edwyr.”

  Yes, Feyrith agreed with that, though in his opinion getting out of the mist first and therefore actually being able to defend themselves in case they needed to seemed like a better option. But he knew they wouldn’t listen to him in this situation, so he simply gave a nod, bracing himself as he once again summoned a small gust of wind to clear a path.

  He would need to contact the Council about this as soon as they got to safety. He was supposed to contact them only after he had useful information about the ruin, but this seemed much more important than that. If this truly was an elf who had summoned the mist—and Feyrith was sure it was because he couldn’t think of another explanation—then he had to report it immediately, and the only reason he wasn’t doing it right now was that it took considerable concentration to use a communication stone, even if the magic stored within it was enough to power the entire spell.

  Hopefully, the Council would send someone more experienced to handle the situation and they would be able to leave as soon as they found Edwyr because staying here seemed very unwise. He might have been in the Third Circle, but that didn’t mean much beyond the fact that he was expected to become very powerful. He still had much to learn, and if this elf had summoned this mist and was strong enough to maintain it for this long then they definitely were more powerful than he was.

  He did his best not to keep checking if there was someone behind them as they continued following the road, with Feyrith occasionally casting a spell to clear the way for a few seconds at a time to make sure they were still heading the right way, as the road tended to take unexpected turns.

  But the longer they went, Feyrith’s fear of being ambushed kept growing, not helped by the fact that his human companions seemed more interested in finding Edwyr than protecting themselves. And this only got worse and worse because Edwyr wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  Feyrith supposed it was possible that Edwyr had already made it out of the mist, but how would he be able to keep track of the road when it was practically impossible without a way to get the mist out of the way. But the mist would disappear eventually, of that Feyrith was sure, which was why he wanted to get out of it as fast as possible.

  He continued throwing glances over his shoulder as they finally managed to reach a point where they could see the road without any help from his magic. Thank the Goddess, Feyrith was feeling fairly tired from having the keep casting it.

  He took in a deep breath as the ruins reappeared in front of them, finally able to relax a little. But if anything, Lanna and Arbane looked even more worried.

  “Dammit,” Arbane muttered, looking back at the impenetrable, white wall of mist. It somehow managed to look even more unsettling from the outside now that the entirety of it was visible, covering up everything. “Do we go back in there?”

&nb
sp; “The mist will disappear soon,” Feyrith reminded him before Lanna could join his side. They couldn’t go back there. The two humans didn’t seem to understand how dangerous this situation could be. “A spell like this cannot be easy to maintain.”

  “Yeah, and what if you’re wrong?” Arbane snapped at him, which made Feyrith pause in surprise. They’d been fairly friendly to him until now. Was it normal for humans to use harsh tones when they were concerned for the safety of someone? He didn’t like how that made him feel.

  Still, Feyrith had to keep himself composed and calm. “You won’t find him if you go back.”

  Instead of replying, Arbane huffed and turned around to face the mist again. He pulled at his hair before beginning to pace. Lanna immediately walked up to him, telling him to relax, which if anything had the exact opposite effect on the man. Feyrith watched for a moment as the two began to argue, waiting patiently for them to decide whether to go back into the mist or not, but as the dispute continued, Feyrith decided that it would probably be safe to leave them for a moment to contact the Council. He walked to a nearby tree, which the quasir were standing beneath, trying to reach its leaves to eat them.

  As Feyrith stopped, standing by his quasir, he reached into his satchel. But his throat went dry as his fingers made contact with everything except the communication stone. His heart clenching, he took his hand out and looked down into the satchel, opening it as wide as it would go and frantically trying to find the stone. But he couldn’t. It just wasn’t there.

  Trying to handle his oncoming panic, he tried to think where he could have lost it. Maybe it had happened when he’d been thrown off his quasir? Nothing should easily fall out of the satchel, but he supposed it could have happened.

  But before he could assure himself that that was definitely what had happened, a second wave of horror hit him as he remembered that he hadn’t checked if he had the stone since after being rescued from the bandits. He could have lost it at any point.