“And you are?” he replied, arching his eyebrows.
“Shut up, let’s get back to business.” I stared at the rune while he chuckled behind me. Finally I tried something different. Holding my hand out, I brought it near the rune but didn’t touch it. As it came near to the glow I could feel a pressure growing in my mind. Forget. A faint whispering came to me, but I held firm. Taking a deep breath I tried to exert a pressure similar to the one I felt, only directed outward, back at the rune. For several long moments I could feel a tension building, not only in my mind but in the air around me, then the world exploded.
I found myself lying on my back with Marc looming over me holding a pry bar. “You are either the stupidest or the luckiest bastard I’ve ever known,” he said. I sat up and looked at the spot where the symbol had been. It was notably absent, but a scorched area marred the wall now.
“Where’d you get the pry bar?”
“I went to get it before I knew you were trying to blow yourself up. Give me a hand, there’s an iron ring behind the spot where that magical doodad was.” He let me put my hand on it first, and then when it was apparent that nothing else was going to explode he helped me to pull. We tugged for a few seconds and then the paneling opened along a seam, a small cupboard was revealed. Inside were three leather bound books. The first two were about ten inches on a side and about an inch thick. The third was massive, fully eighteen inches tall and three or four inches thick, it was covered in glowing symbols, the only part of it I could read was the title, A Grammar of Lycian. The other two were untitled.
Marc started to reach in but I put my hand on his arm, “Don’t” He glanced at me then withdrew his hand. Carefully I reached in and pulled out the two smaller books; since they weren’t glowing I guessed they might be safe. I left the larger book inside.
“Is it warded?” Marc asked.
“It has something all over it, and it glows like a bonfire.” After some discussion we closed the panel and left the other book inside. Hopefully I would learn enough to peruse it safely later. It was getting late so we decided to quit for the evening. I took the two books with me to my room.
“Promise me you won’t look at them without me.” Marc had a serious expression. “If something happens while you’re reading it someone should be around to drag you away or put out the fire.”
I met his gaze and tried to be serious, “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.” A dozen smart ass comments ran through my head but for a change I kept them to myself.
Once I was safely ensconced in my room I began examining the books. I had initially intended to keep my promise, but curiosity had gotten the better of me. Since nothing had happened after opening the covers I figured I might as well see what I could discover. The first book turned out to be a journal, written by Vestrius himself. The second seemed to be some sort of book of spells, most of it was written in plain English, but interspersed were glowing words and symbols I had no experience with. It also contained a lot of diagrams. As soon as I saw the glowing parts I decided it should wait, so I returned to the journal.
My decision turned out to be the correct one. Unlike most journals in which someone writes their daily thoughts and such, this one turned out to be more like a lab notebook. Vestrius had been apprenticed as a teenager to another wizard named Grummond. The first task he had been given was the keeping of a journal, to record what he learned each day. I could not imagine anything more useful to me at this point. I began to read.
Vestrius’ first days as an apprentice were quite illuminating for me, and made it clear to me what the importance of the third book was. A Grammar of Lycian was exactly that, a book detailing the grammar and vocabulary of Lycian, a long extinct language. The journal also made clear why the book glowed. Wizards are taught to use language, written and verbal, to manifest their power. Since using one’s native tongue would be dangerous in the extreme the custom was to use a dead language. Lycian had become the de facto language of magic hundreds of years ago and knowledge of it was maintained for that purpose only. Because of its long use, even the writing had acquired a sort of residual power, which could prove dangerous sometimes even in the hands of those without the gift, but to a much lesser degree.
I resolved to collect the third book the next day; I would need to study it if I was to follow along with Vestrius’ journal.
Chapter 4
The second characteristic is called ‘emittance’ and refers to the rate or ability of a person to channel or ‘use’ a given quantity of aythar. Unlike capacitance, emittance is not a universal trait in all human beings. Some persons, popularly called ‘stoics’, have no emittance whatsoever, and as a result are completely unable to use, sense or manipulate magic in any way. Luckily such persons are rare, most likely occurring no more than at a rate of one or two persons per hundred. One beneficial side effect of this is that stoics are impossible to manipulate in more subtle ways, such as via enchantments or other magics affecting the mind or spirit. This makes them invaluable in certain roles, particularly in judicial settings. They are of course, still susceptible to other forms of magic, but no more so than any other physical being or object would be.
The vast majority of humanity has a very low emittance, such that without extensive training or exposure they are largely unable to manipulate aythar to any significant degree. Similarly they have difficulty even perceiving things which are purely magical in nature. Such persons are able to use magical devices, and with extensive training even use some aythar directly, but to a very limited degree.
I awoke to sunshine streaming in through the open window. Squinting at the bright light I attempted to cover my head with one of the decorative pillows that I had shoved to the side the night before. Someone snatched it away from me.
“For the love of all that’s holy!” I burrowed under the covers, seeking to hide from the light. I had never been a particularly late sleeper but I had stayed up till nearly dawn the night before. Someone else had different ideas and I found myself struggling to keep the covers up, while my assailant tried to peel them back.
“Oh no you don’t! Mordecai Eldridge you wake up this instant! I’m done covering for you this morning, you’ve already missed your meeting with the Duke and if you think…”
“What?” I let go of the blankets and sat up. My attacker, Penny, abruptly fell backward and tripped over the chair, taking the covers with her.
“Ow!” she exclaimed as she came down hard on her derriere. At this point a few things require explanation. Most common folk sleep naked, as I was now, pajamas and night clothes being a luxury. As Penny stood back up I became uncomfortably aware of this, not to mention the fact that my little soldier was giving his best morning salute. I was suddenly grateful for the abundance of decorative pillows and made quick use of one to hide my condition. Penny was kind enough to look away.
“Listen Penny, I know we’ve been friends a long time, but don’t you think it would be better to knock next time?” I’d be damned it I was going to be embarrassed. I was clearly the victim in this situation.
“I did knock! I knocked at seven; I came back and knocked at eight and again at nine! You were called to meet with the Duke at nine thirty but I told him you were ill. I don’t think he believed me at first, but Marcus told him he’d kept you up late drinking.” She looked extremely put out but I noticed she hadn’t offered me back the covers. Instead she kept darting glances at my legs, well I presumed it was my legs. I repositioned the pillow to make sure I was covered. “Finally I just came in at ten,” she continued, “to clean and air out the room. You were sleeping like one of the dead.”