Book 1 - Chapter 4

Elias

“Are you alright, Mr. Sydio?”

Elias took a deep breath, blinked to clear the blur from his eyes, and took a moment to regain his bearings. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep at last in the wee hours of the night that followed the dire wolf’s attack. Now, he was stood on an elegant rug that ran down a hallway, marble columns and flying buttresses interspersed between panels of dark walnut walls, a series of gilded candelabras lighting the way. A halfling woman stood in front of him - wrinkled brown skin and greying chestnut hair, wearing a familiar uniform of elegant greys and blacks that stood out in stark contrast against the bright colors of his own clothes.

Soft music echoed down the hall. A violin.

Elias cleared his throat and went about pulling down the gods-awful top knot his hair had been tied into. “Fine, Miss Penfold,” he replied. “Just wanted to make sure I was presentable for the Dean.”

Miss Penfold studied him for a second, her brow furrowed as she watched him shake out his golden curls. “Very well,” she said. “Please be quick about it. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Nor would I, were I in his shoes.” Elias straightened his shirt and nodded at her. “Proceed.”

She turned on her heel and led him down the hall. The sound of their footsteps reverberated off the walls, polished floorboards beneath the rug creaking with every move. All intentional, of course. It made sneaking around the premises harder, and the Dean so enjoyed the forewarning that the sounds promised.

Elias reached into his satchel and retrieved his journal. The most recent entry was dated six days after the last one he remembered penning, on the night that he, Molly, and the ranger were separated from the caravan. Grinding his teeth and breathing in deep to offset the fire of anxiety already beginning to burn in his stomach, he forced himself to read through the new entries, each rough, angular letter standing in stark contrast against his careful cursive.

6/5

What the fuck have you gotten us into?

Uneventful day, no thanks to you. You’ve gotta stop getting rid of the callouses - we’re still days out and I’ve already got blisters.

7/5

Found the cow. Keth seems in better spirits now. He says he’s especially thankful that you’ve been keeping quiet. Don’t read too much into that, I haven’t corrected him or anything.

8/5

These people are nice. You should spend time with people like them more often.

9/5

Bug critter. Keth called it an ankheg, if you’re curious. Acid spitter. Sorry about the clothes.

Elias caught sight of his sleeve out of the corner of his eye and saw that something had both stained and eaten through it in big, gaping holes. He looked heavenward and muttered, “Gods give me strength. This’ll be the death of me, and I won’t even have anything nice to wear in my fucking casket.” Composing himself, he then read the last entry:

10/5

Keth says we should reach the city by dusk. Don’t worry - aside from the ankheg, it was a fairly uneventful trip. You didn’t miss much. If you haven’t already fronted by then, I’ll get us to the campus.

S——

It was second nature by now to whip out a pen at the sight of the foreign signature and scribble it out with all the ferocity Elias could muster. As the sigil grew into a tangled mess of black streaks, his heart stopped pounding in his ears. It had been months since the last time he had blacked out for such an extended length of time, and the fact that he couldn’t remember the vast majority of the journey from Ironriver to Sheer Harbor made his stomach turn. At least he was alive, and back somewhere safe.

Well. Safe relative to the Wilderness, anyway.

The violin grew louder as Miss Penfold guided him down a series of winding corridors until she at last halted in front of a door, identical to every other door they had already passed. She held up a hand to Elias and said, “Wait here for just a moment, please,” before disappearing inside.

Elias took stock of his surroundings. A couple of years ago, he knew his way around the campus of the College of Whispers like the back of his hand. It had changed since his last visit, of course, and he knew he would soon be lost in the maze of identical hallways and unmarked doors should he try to wander off without the assistance of his halfling guide.

Behind the door, he could just make out a brief conversation, muttered incoherently under the tones of the violin. A moment later, the door swung open, and Miss Penfold gestured for Elias to enter.

The room within was warm, elegant, and inviting. A small group of red armchairs stood atop a huge circular rug in front of a crackling fire, and a series of glittering crystal glasses were stacked on one side of a marble-topped bar beside a stock of spirits. The violin floated in the center of the room in front of a large window draped in thick curtains, magic swirling around the instrument as it played its tune.

On the opposite side of the room from the fireplace was a mahogany desk covered in neat stacks of parchment, each enchanted with the same illusory magic with which Elias had charmed his journal to prevent others from reading it. And behind the desk, in a high backed chair with a ruby red cushion, sat a human man in his late forties with manicured storm grey hair and a piercing gaze. Gideon Axel, Dean of the College of Whispers.

Dean Axel did not look up from the parchment he was reading when Elias entered. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing with his pen at one of the armchairs in front of the fire. It lifted a few inches off the ground and floated toward Elias, planting itself in front of the desk with a thump. “No doubt you’d like to, after the week you’ve had.”

Elias glanced at the door as Miss Penfold exited and closed it behind her. “Thank you, sir,” he said, taking a tentative seat. “Though, I’m guessing you’re already aware that the specifics of my trip are lost to me.”

A piercing glance over the edge of the parchment drove a bolt of fear through Elias’ heart. “Guessing,” Dean Axel repeated with disdain.

If this had been a test (and Elias couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t), he knew he would have already failed. He cleared his throat. “Intended only as a figure of speech, of course.”

The Dean sat frozen for a long time, his icicle gaze pinning Elias to his chair, and the suddenness with which he delivered a curt nod as he shifted to look back down at his paperwork was enough to make Elias jump.

“Miss Penfold’s account of your behavior upon arrival, coupled with the information my sources have gathered from the ranger caravan you traveled with have left me well aware.” He licked the tip of his pen, scribbled his signature onto the bottom of the parchment, and pushed both to the side. He turned his attention back toward Elias, his fingers lacing together as he leaned forward in his chair. “You’re going to have to get a better handle on that, if we intend to keep using it as an asset.”

Elias’ mouth felt dry. “Yes, sir.”

“Has the journal helped?”

“Somewhat. It’s made for better communication, at least.”

“But you’re still blacking out.”

Elias held his unwavering gaze, determined not to squirm in his seat. The silence lingered between them for an agonizing moment, until at last the Dean blinked. A smile spread across his face which did not reach his eyes.

“Well,” he said. “Baby steps. Care for a drink?” He stood and made his way around the desk toward the bar.

When his back was turned, Elias took the opportunity to let the thin veneer of serenity fall from his face for a second in favor of haughty annoyance. It went away as quickly as it came. “Please,” he replied.

Dean Axel reached the bar and spent a moment preparing a pair of drinks. “If it helps,” he said, “your two companions reached the city in good health as well.”

“That’s good to know.” Elias twisted in his chair, watching the Dean for any movement that might suggest that he was spiking a drink. “Never bad to become friendly with a ranger, and I’d bet money that the Thunderforge woman is the daughter of Martin Cogsmith.”

The Dean raised his eyebrows, but did not look away from his process. “Your deductive skills may not have decayed during your time away, but your delivery needs work. Fools and madmen bet, Elias. We affirm.” He took a pair of stone cubes in his palm, chilled them with magic, and dropped one each in a whiskey glass. “We received news yesterday that a raven from the Cogsmith manor had arrived at the Tinkerer’s Guild, informing them to be on the lookout for Martin’s daughter.”

“To what end?”

“Just ensuring her safety.” Dean Axel uncorked a bottle of whiskey and began pouring the golden liquid over the chilled stones. “He couldn’t force her to come home if he wanted to. She’s a grown woman, after all, and a tenacious one, at that.”

Elias smirked. “You have no idea.”

The Dean barked a laugh and re-corked the bottle. “Another figure of speech only, I hope. I do, in fact, have an idea.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

With both glasses filled (and untampered with, as far as Elias could tell), Dean Axel strode back toward his desk, passing one whiskey to Elias on his way. “You’re wondering why I summoned you.”

Elias accepted the whiskey and nodded. “Naturally.”

The Dean took a moment to get comfortable in his chair again, taking a couple swigs of his drink before elaborating. “I have a new mission for you, if you think you’re up to it.”

The phrasing was absolutely a test. Elias threw back the whiskey like a shot, gritting his teeth as it burned both his throat and his nerves. “Always.”

“You understand that accepting this offer will require one hundred percent confidentiality?”

“I would expect no less.”

Dean Axel fixed him with another long, scrutinizing stare before at last elaborating. “Approximately three months ago,” he began, pouring Elias more drink, “one of the archmages the College has on its payroll disappeared while en route from Blackhaven. The rangers she hired say that one moment, she was walking with them, and the next, she was gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Vanished into thin air.”

Elias accepted the refilled beverage and sipped at it. “That’s hardly out of the ordinary,” he commented, tone constructed to avoid sounding dismissive or contrary. “Between the natural hazards and the elves, people go missing all the time.”

“That was our first thought as well, of course,” the Dean replied. “We questioned the rangers under a voluntary zone of truth when they returned to Sheer Harbor empty handed, and they insisted that they searched extensively for her when they realized she had gone missing. As it stands, elves may be one of the most light footed predators out there, but even they leave traces of their presence. The rangers searched for a day, and couldn’t find anything. Not a set of tracks, not broken branches, not even dirt swept aside by the wings of a great bird. Nothing.

“This is strange enough in and of itself, obviously, but what is stranger is that this is not the first time something like this has happened,” he continued. “The more we dug into the archmage’s disappearance, the more the stories started to stack up. As of now, we have reason to believe that at least seven people have disappeared under similar circumstances from Sheer Harbor alone.”

Elias stared at the contents of his drink, his brow furrowed in thought. “And they were all mages of some kind?”

Dean Axel nodded. “Mages, and master artificers, too. They account for three of the seven, and we have reason to believe there have been more.”

“Thus the interest in the disposition of Martin Cogsmith’s daughter.”

“Precisely.” The Dean finished his glass and poured himself a second, offering Elias a third when he followed suit. “What I need from you are answers. Beyond just uncovering the circumstances of these disappearances, we need to know whether this is the design of a political power, and if so, which one, and to what end.”

“You suspect a political power, specifically?”

The Dean shrugged. “We can’t rule it out, and given the current climate, it’s the best starting point we have.”

Elias frowned. “Do you suspect Blackhaven? I find it unlikely that a group of assassins or the like could sneak up on a ranger caravan from the front, but from behind, it certainly wouldn’t be unheard of.”

“That is where you come in.” Dean Axel pushed his seat back so that he could kick his feet up onto the desk, one ankle crossed over the other. “Aside from being our only lead as of the moment, Blackhaven is also landlocked, and Sheer Harbor represents the closest port. The planetouched could gain a great deal, knocking out powerful mages and artificers in advance of an attempted coup. I would like you to travel to Blackhaven and do some investigation to determine whether or not our suspicions are correct.”

That sounded simple enough to Elias, and as a bonus, it would keep him out of Sheer Harbor and away from the College indefinitely. “I’ll need a few days to replenish my supplies and hire a ranger.”

“You have two days. The College will pay your ranger’s stipend.”

Elias nodded, humming in assent. “Is there a contact in Blackhaven that I should report to?”

“There is.” The Dean raised his glass to his lips, studying the violin as it continued its song. “A member of the Murdoch family, who has been sent ahead to begin the investigation.”

Elias’ stomach dropped, and his blood ran cold. “Which Murdoch?” he asked, a bit too fast.

The Dean took his time enjoying a sip of his drink. “The eldest son - Jasper.”

Of course. Of fucking course it was Jasper. Dealing with any of the Murdochs would have been a pain in the ass regardless, but whether by the Dean’s design or that of fate, it just had to be fucking Jasper.

A moment of silence save for the violin’s song passed between them as Elias searched for words. Dean Axel beat him to it.

“Before you say anything that you might regret,” he said, “I am well aware of your relationship to Mr. Murdoch, and I advise that you get over it. The Murdochs have long been one of our greatest allies, in Blackhaven and beyond, and all other priorities aside, this assignment may serve to mend the bridge between them and us that you so carelessly burned. Do I make myself clear?”

Elias was gripping his glass so hard that his knuckles went white, and he was surprised he hadn’t broken it. Darkness was beginning to creep into the edges of his vision. He felt himself start to sink back into the blissful void that was the back of his brain. Fighting to maintain consciousness felt like swimming for the surface of a tumultuous ocean with a cannonball chained to his feet. It took every ounce of will within him to keep himself present, and avoid the consequences that he knew would come, should he blackout again. He swallowed, realized that his mouth had once again gone bone dry, and shot the entire glass of whiskey down in one.

“Crystal.” He stood and placed the empty glass on the Dean’s desk upside down. “Am I dismissed, sir?”

Dean Axel paused for a moment, studying the indifferent mask that Elias had fixed upon his face, and nodded. “Miss Penfold will show you to a room, and provide you with your pay and your ranger stipend.” He raised his glass in salute, and downed the rest. “Good hunting.”

Miss Penfold met him outside the Dean’s office, and Elias followed her all the way to his quarters and managed to fully shut the door behind himself before his panic attack set in. What the actual fuck am I going to do?

As his knees buckled beneath him and he slid down to the floor against a wall, trembling and ghost-white, he felt a familiar black presence brush up against the back of his mind, coaxing, pressing like the sweet release of sleep and oblivion.

“NO!” Elias bellowed. “No, not today. Not so soon.” He clenched his eyes shut, grit his teeth, hummed, and willed himself to stay. “I don’t fucking need you!”

He blinked, and then he was hunched over his diary, laying haphazard on the floor, ink from the pen in his hand still wet. The angular text read:

Yes you do. That’s my purpose, you twat.

Elias ground his teeth, ripped the page from the diary, crumpled it up, and roared as he heaved it across the room. It hit a mirror atop a vanity with an unsatisfying pak. The man staring back through his reflection, wide eyed and trembling, was not Elias.

He stood and paced, wringing his hands and biting the insides of his cheeks until they bled. The reflection stared at him in the corner of his vision. He avoided eye contact, even as he tore a sheet from his bed and flung it over the glass. The obstruction didn’t help. He could still feel its eyes on him.

Elias summoned a servant and ordered a bottle of whiskey. He downed a quarter of it as soon as it arrived, drinking every few moments as though it were juice while he busied himself with freshening up before bed. Stumbling into the adjoining bathroom, he ran a scalding bath, dumping the entire contents of a lavender scented soap into the water and breathing in the steam until his lungs felt wet. He undressed, flung his clothing across the room, and sunk into the tub, grateful for the fog obscuring his vision - and that of the eyes still watching him from the other room - and for the heat that burned into his bones until his body at last felt like his own again. The black presence faded into his subconscious, pacified for now, and Elias let his muscles relax and his drunken mind wander.

It didn’t take long for his thoughts to find Jasper. It wasn’t the first time they had walked that familiar path, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

First the pang of regret struck his heart, replaced in a practiced ease with the usual flood of excuses and reasoning. Elias had no choice. He knew what the Dean was capable of. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Second came those detestable memories, those despised figments and flashes. The irresistible aroma of spices, the taste of them on his tongue. Grey marble, sinew, and sweat. A handsome, melancholy smile. The sensation of skin on skin. Elias’ breath caught in his throat - not for the first time - and, despite himself, despite his heart still drowning in remorse and his brain swimming in revulsion, he finished the bottle of whisky and indulged himself.

The black presence lingered.

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