“You know me,” Esset replied. He waved the scroll. “But this time I just needed this, and I have to go again.”
“What is it?” Lors asked, suddenly serious; Esset supposed Lors must have noticed the difference in his demeanor to have responded like that.
“It’s… Well, it’s hopefully a solution. Toman’s being held prisoner with a geas on him. I’m hoping this will help free him.” Esset figured there was no point in keeping it a secret.
Concern flashed across Lors’s face and he glanced between the two Essets. Esset belatedly recalled that Lors had been closer friends with Toman than himself.
“Well, I graduated from the mage academy last year. Maybe I can help,” Lors offered.
“I don’t suppose you know how to undo a geas?” Esset said even as he passed over the scroll. He wasn’t sure Lors would be able to help; Esset knew Lors was only average as a mage.
“In theory, I know how,” Lors replied. “But I’m not near powerful enough. I doubt any of the mages here are. Geas spells are also super complicated. Not many people can even cast them, never mind undo them. You’d need a mage at least as strong as the caster…” Esset winced at the last statement as Lors trailed off and squinted at the scroll.
“What is this?” the mage finally asked.
Esset shrugged. “The works of Jionar Atah. He claims that if you use salt in a particular counter-pattern to the spell structure, you can undo a geas without magic. Or rather, just using what he calls the natural energies of the world.”
“That’s brilliant, if true,” Lors said. “Okay, yeah, I see it now. But do you have this diagram from another angle?”
“What do you mean?” Esset asked. “That’s the only diagram there was.” He didn’t like the look on Lors face when he looked up—it was a mix of concern, apology, and regret.
“You need another. This diagram has been flattened. Magic exists in three dimensions. This just shows two dimensions.” Lors held the scroll back out to Esset, who stared at it. Mr. Esset came over to look over Esset’s shoulder at it. He looked as crestfallen as Esset felt.
In fact, Esset felt a wave of despair wash over him. “So we know how to lay out the spell from only one angle: directly above. We don’t know how to arrange it top to bottom.”
“It seems that way.” Lors’s shoulders slumped.
“Atah never foresaw the equipment he’s referencing being destroyed,” Mr. Esset said.
“Sorry,” Lors said miserably.
“It’s not your fault,” Esset said, although it didn’t make him feel much better. “Better we know now than going all the way to Nadra with a useless…” He trailed off without finishing the sentence.
“Esset?” Lors asked when he didn’t speak for several moments.
“Are we sure this equipment was destroyed?” Esset said, suddenly looking at his father. Mr. Esset gave a bewildered shake of his head.
“Andarus said the workshop was destroyed, but if the apprentice had these,” Esset held the scroll aloft. “Why not some of the equipment?” It was a thin hope, but hope nonetheless.
“Or, maybe the apprentice made diagrams of the instrument even though Atah didn’t,” Mr. Esset said; Esset knew he was just as desperate for any shred of hope to cling to.
“Let’s ask Andarus,” Esset said. He’d already sprinted up two steps before remembering Lors.
“Thank you, Lors!” he called back, twisting to wave. Lors looked half-hopeful as he waved back, but he let the two Essets vanish through the doors ahead of him.
They found Andarus exactly where they’d left him, next to the Atah scrolls with his nose buried in the scroll.
“Andarus, how much do you know about Atah?” Mr. Esset asked as they approached. Esset went over to the table to sort through the Atah scrolls again, hoping there was something they’d missed there.
“Andarus?” Mr. Esset asked again when Andarus didn’t reply. “Andarus!”
“Hm?” Andarus finally looked up from his scroll. “I thought you left.”
“We did leave, but we came back. This diagram, it’s only half of what we need.” Mr. Esset briefly explained their problem. “What do you know about what happened to Atah and his workshop?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Andarus replied. Esset felt his spirits sinking again. “From what I recall, he died during one of his experiments, an experiment that also caused most of his workshop and its contents to be destroyed. As I mentioned previously, he did have an apprentice, but the apprentice was reluctant to come forward with any surviving material. Rumor at the time had it that someone had actually killed Atah and staged the workshop’s destruction to cover it up. Why, I hesitate to succumb to conjecture, but his work is now a rare thing, so more’s the pity. I know we would love to have more of his collection here.”
“Where was this workshop, and where’s the apprentice now?” Esset asked.
“Oh, the apprentice is dead. His name was… Hm, let’s see, his surname was Garson, if I recall correctly. He and Atah precede your father and me by a couple generations. But he and Atah did their research on the northern edge of what’s now Symria.” Andarus paused before continuing. “I can’t remember what the name of the kingdom it used to be before it was annexed by Symria.”
“That’s fine. We’ll just have to take a look at some maps before I go,” Esset said. He was already combing over the scrolls to double-check the apprentice’s name.
“It will be the only town in the northwest corner of the kingdom,” Andarus said.
“Thank you, Andarus,” Esset said. Then he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is, John Garson.”
Andarus gave Esset a little nod and looked back down at the scroll in his hand.
“Okay, it’s time for me to go visit this town and find Mr. Garson’s descendants, if he has any,” Esset said to his father.
This time, they didn’t bother saying farewell to Andarus—he was clearly already lost in the scroll again—but they left the mess for the scholar, just the way he liked it.
Mrs. Esset walked in on her son packing his travel bag.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I told you, Mom. We may have found a way to lift a geas. I have to find what I need and then go get Toman.” If he was still alive.
Mrs. Esset started shaking her head. Her hands clenched the plate of snacks she’d brought for her son, her grip so tight her knuckles were white. Esset rose and put one hand on her shoulder and the other on the plate.
“Here, let me take that.”
Mrs. Esset relinquished the plate, and Esset sat his mother down on the bed before setting the plate on the bedside table.
“I just…you just came back, and I thought we’d have more time before you left again,” she said.
“I’ll be back again before you know it,” Esset said, sitting down next to her. He scooped a sweet roll off the plate and pressed it into her hands.
“Please don’t go,” his mother said, but Esset shook his head.
“I have to. Toman has been in Moloch’s hands for long enough.”
Mrs. Esset squeezed her eyes shut, and Esset wondered if she were wishing everything were all right again. Esset had done enough of that himself.
“It’ll be all right, Mom. I’ll make it all right,” he promised. “I’ll find out how to break the geas, then go get Toman. I’ll take care not to run into Moloch. I’ll sneak Toman out before he even knows I’m there. Once Toman is with the Nadra, we’ll lift the geas and you’ll see us both again.”
Mrs. Esset simply stared at the food in her hands.
“I have to do this, Mom.”
“I know.” Mrs. Esset finally lifted her eyes to her son’s. On impulse, she dropped the roll and wrapped him in a hug.
“Come back safe,” she whispered in his ear before releasing him. Esset nodded as his mother collected herself, wiping unshed tears from her eyes.
“Just look at the mess I’m making,” sh
e said, bending to pick the roll up off the floor. “I better clean up and get you ready to go. You’ll need food for your trip and clean clothes. If you’re leaving tomorrow, I’m getting as much food into you as I can in the meantime.”
Esset smiled, letting her fuss. In his head, he prayed that he’d be able to bring Toman back like he’d just promised.
Mrs. Esset bustled out of the room and Mr. Esset stepped in.
“Hey Dad,” Esset greeted him. Mr. Esset came down and sat beside him.
“Son…” Mr. Esset reached out and placed a hand on Esset’s shoulder. “You know I have the utmost confidence in you, but I still want you to promise me that you’ll be careful.”
“Of course.”
“And remember what I told you about power,” Mr. Esset said.
“We’re strong, and it’s our responsibility to protect people. We’re strong enough to win without taking lives,” Esset said, but his smile was sad. Were they really strong enough? Their earlier loss to Moloch suggested they weren’t. Still, he believed in the sanctity of life with all his heart. He wouldn’t break his father’s faith in him.
“Taking a life is always wrong, even when it’s necessary. But…sometimes it is necessary.” Mr. Esset pulled his son into a hug. “Protect yourself. Come home to us. And if you can, bring Toman home too.”
“I will, Dad.” Esset hugged him back. “I will.”
The sun was setting as Esset circled over the northern town. It was of a reasonable enough size, but Esset still hadn’t been able to find a map that had actually named it and not just marked it “town.” Esset landed his fiery mount at the edge of the community so as not to create too much of a stir, and he walked to the inn on foot. The sign proudly displayed a black bird toasting a mug of ale, labeled “The Happy Crow.”
Esset entered and took quick stock of the clientele: mostly locals, and judging by their garb, the town was reasonably prosperous. A trade town. Recalling the number of sheep he’d flown over on the way in and the signs on the shops outside, he’d guess their main source of income came from wool. Only a few of the customers looked to be travelers.
A few people looked up as he entered and headed for the bar.
“A bowl of stew and an ale, please,” Esset said to the barkeep, pushing coins towards him.
“Staying the night, too?” the barkeep asked. Surprised, Esset nodded; he’d pegged the woman overseeing the room from the corner to be the innkeeper, and had planned to talk to her later.
“I’ll let Matron Laney know,” the barkeep said.
“Ah, thank you.” Esset grinned as a large bowl of stew was placed in front of him, along with a frothing mug of ale. Two bites into the stew, he found himself thinking that Toman would have liked the stew, and the thought cast a grey pall over his mood. For a single moment, things had felt normal; a new town, a new objective, a new adventure. But there was no adventure without Toman. It was time to get to work.
“You from around here?” Esset asked the man next to him.
“Shepherd Derek,” the man said, extending his hand.
“Esset,” Esset replied, taking it.
“Where you from, Esset?” Derek asked, clearly enthused to talk to someone new.
“Sedina,” Esset replied.
“Oh, aye,” Derek said. “We get enough of you coming up the trade road. Where you headed?”
“Here,” Esset replied, and Derek’s bushy eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“I’m looking for someone…or something,” Esset replied.
Derek laughed. “Well if it ain’t making wool or made of wool, you won’t find it here.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Esset said, but he was smiling back. “Do the names John Garson or Jionar Atah mean anything to you?”
“Huh.” Derek rubbed his beard. “They might not have, but just a month back there were some treasure hunters asking about that Atah guy. They found some stuff too, not sure what. They were quite happy when they left town to find someone to buy the stuff.”
“Treasure hunters,” Esset repeated. He remembered one of the scavengers who’d found him muttering something about magical instruments.
“Oh aye, three of them,” Derek said. “They asked around about Atah, then headed up to the old ruined house. No one goes up there except foolhardy kids, since the structure’s not sound, but they went up there anyways.”
“And you don’t know where they took the stuff they found,” Esset said. Derek shook his head. Esset figured that would have been too easy.
“These treasure hunters…was their surname Herega?” Esset asked. It was a long shot, he knew, but he needed a break.
Derek shook his head. “Not sure, but I bet the barkeep’ll remember. Two men and a woman though.”
“Thanks, Derek. Have a drink on me,” Esset said, figuring he’d reached the limits of the man’s knowledge.
Derek’s eyes lit up. “Thanks.”
Esset waved the barkeep over and confirmed the scavengers’ names: Raf, Beow, and Teheba Herega. Esset was pensive as he arranged his room and headed upstairs. Was this luck or misfortune? On one hand, if the scavengers had never come, there might have been something to find here. On the other hand, at least it was those particular scavengers, whom he’d have a chance at tracking if there were nothing left at the house.
Regardless, he murmured a brief prayer to Bright Hyrishal—a prayer of thanks if it ended up being a blessing, and a plea for help if it turned out to be another obstacle. The scavengers’ recent presence was an odd coincidence in any case.
In the morning, he’d search the ruined house for anything they might have missed, but the scavengers didn’t seem like the types to miss anything. No, more likely than not, he’d have to hunt them down to find out what they’d found, and who they’d sold it to.
Esset skipped breakfast and flew out to the ruins of Atah’s workshop with the break of dawn. It wasn’t hard to find; the large, two-story stone building was set apart from the rest of the town. Esset circled to study the building from above, noting that though the structure was thoroughly blackened by fire, the stone supports and main structure of the building were still intact.
Esset landed next to the building and banished the fiery bird. Plant life was well regrown around the building and was, in fact, starting to take it over. Vines crept up the walls, although Esset noticed there were a few patches where the vines had been torn away lower down, like someone had tried to scale the wall using the foliage and had not succeeded.
There were other obvious signs that the place had been searched, and relatively recently. Plants around the door had been hacked away, and footprints riddled the interior of the dilapidated building.
Thanks to the fire, nothing wooden had survived. Only the stone remained, which meant that though the walls stood, most of the second floor had collapsed down onto the first. Esset picked his way carefully through the rubble. Clearly some of the cave-ins had happened after the fire; he found a large chest broken on its side, the interior displayed but untouched. Recent indeed.
Esset tried to find a way upstairs, but evidently the stairs had been constructed of wood as well. Considering that most of the second floor had been burned or collapsed anyways, Esset supposed there was nothing lost.
After an hour digging around the inside and finding nothing, Esset summoned his bird again and rose aloft. He circled one last time and was about to leave when he noticed that one corner of the second story was virtually untouched by scorch marks. The roof was even partially intact.
Esset directed the bird lower; sure enough, one upstairs room had mostly withstood fire, elements…and intruders. It was a small room on the corner with only a narrow slit for a window. Esset flew by the slit several times to peek in; his heart beat faster when he saw there was still furniture inside. Maybe, just maybe, the instrument—or information on it—would still be there, inside.
Esset flew the bird closer and set it to hovering by the window so he could get a closer look.
He leaned towards the narrow opening, craning his head to see inside. Just as he spied a small chest on a desk, his hand slipped. An undignified yelp escaped him and tiny flames danced in the air around him as gravity took over. His fiery mount tilted its wings so he slid along it—right into the wall. Esset’s senses scattered when his head connected with the stone wall; he couldn’t tell up from down or right from left. Not until he hit the ground.
Esset groaned but remained still as the bruised side of his body reminded him which direction was down. He did a mental check of what hurt, then rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He saw fire.
Panic sparked again when he saw the flamelets dancing in the air around him. If anything was left in the house, he couldn’t afford to burn it. The flames grew more intense with his emotion until he forced the panic back, taking slow and steady breaths. Over the course of a minute, the flames shrank, then vanished. Esset heaved a sigh of relief and closed his eyes again, making sure he would remain calm and fire-free before even thinking about getting up.
A single story wasn’t too far to fall—less than that, considering he’d bounced off the bird’s wing and the wall on the way down. Esset figured he’d have some colorful bruises and a nice lump on his head, but nothing seemed to have been seriously damaged.
Esset sat up gingerly. He glanced up to see his summoned bird still hovering above him; the increased obedience of his summons was definitely a nice perk of the phoenix’s loaned power. Under the old Contract, the summon would have certainly flown away—if he’d even been able to get it to hover so calmly in the first place. Time to test that control a little further.
Esset murmured an incantation and a tiny, ashy black bat appeared in the air next to him. Its squeak sounded like a sizzle from bacon in a hot pan. Closing his eyes, Esset sent his consciousness into the tiny creature to use its senses.
Esset adjusted to the altered perception on the fly; he could smell sound, taste colors, and see the scents in the air as the bat flew up to the window. Fortunately he could also still see and hear in something of a normal fashion, or he’d never be able to adjust—at least not to the level of adeptness that he had.
Fire Within: Book Two of Fire and Stone (Stories of Fire and Stone 2) Page 5
