“The wrong hands… like Kareth’s?” Valyrie asked, sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Indeed. The Elder Priest was careless, and The Bloodmyr Tome was lost.”
Laedron laced his fingers together in his lap. “Where, if we should choose to help you, are we to find the tome?”
“Kareth has it in the ruins, in the old temple. Deep beneath it.”
“Are those the ruins near the secret entrance to this place?”
“No. We’re standing beneath what remains of the ancient library, which was nearly as large as the temple.”
“If you know where it is, why haven’t you sent anyone to get it back?” Marac asked. “Why wait for someone to fetch it for you?”
“We’ve tried, but we’ve failed. Many were lost in the attempt and the counterattack that followed. We had to seal the hallway closed to keep Kareth’s creations out, and it took weeks to build our secret entrance. Since then, most of our people have grown weaker, both in magic and in their own physical abilities. That’s why the Far’rah sent out the call for help to Nessadene. In Callista, we found an ally.”
Laedron raised an eyebrow. “The Far’rah?”
“Forgive me. The Elder Priest. Far’rah is the title of our highest authority, for when the empire fell, our faith is the only structure that remained intact. When Kareth killed the previous Far’rah, a new one was appointed.”
“And his name is Harridan?”
“Yes.”
“How do the Trappers fit into all this?”
Tavin stared at his feet. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything you can tell us. Everything you know.”
“As I said before, the Trappers were loosed upon the forest by Kareth, bound to seek the living and steal souls. We first encountered them during our attack on the old temple, and they drove us back. We hid in the woods for quite some time, all of us stricken with fear at the slightest rumble in the ground, until the Far’rah decided to move us to this place.
“We call it Auskemyr, the Land of the Hidden, and we use our secret home to avoid the Trappers, for they aren’t smart enough to figure out how to enter our sanctuary. Kareth’s vile creations have nearly cleared the forest of all living beings-the wolves, birds, deer, nearly everything except insects-but we are fortunate that our people haven’t been killed by one for nearly a decade.”
“You have a way to kill them?”
“Being composed entirely of crystal, the monsters can be destroyed by a competent mage. The most effective method we’ve found is by the use of vibrations, summoning tremors so strong that they can crack the Trappers’ rigid bodies. But you must bring a powerful quake; mistakes and hesitation could result in dire consequences.”
“Good. If we have a way to fight them, we stand a much better chance.” But what if I cannot conjure a spell strong enough? Fearing that Ismerelda’s ruby scepter had broken, Laedron pulled it from his side. “Can you tell me anything about this rod?”
Tavin’s eye twitched, but he took the scepter in his hands. “Where did you get this?”
“My teacher.”
“He would give away an instrument of this caliber? He must’ve been a great sorcerer indeed to have something like this as a spare.”
“Sorceress. My teacher was killed in the streets of Morcaine months ago, murdered by a Zyvdredi master posing as a Heraldan priest.”
“What was her name?”
“Ismerelda.”
“A name I may have heard in passing, but it doesn’t easily come to mind. Was she from Myrdwyer?” Tavin handed the scepter back.
“No,” Laedron said. “She was originally of Uxidia, and she moved to Westmarch when her family left to live in Evdurein.”
“It is a rare thing for an Uxidin to live amongst mortals in a city. It’s dangerous for us to be in contact with the wider world, but in your case, we must make an exception. For the survival of our people.”
“I’m surprised that you haven’t heard of her. She stood with Azura in the battle against Vrolosh.”
“Many names escape me, especially those of minor players, my young friend.” Tavin tapped his temple. “Little but the most important details remain when you go on for as long as I have. Besides, she could have been exaggerating her own importance.”
“Exaggerating her importance? I think not.” Laedron clenched his fists at his sides.
“Forgive me. You must have had a close attachment to her.”
He probably meant nothing by it. Even Ismerelda seemed a bit uncouth when speaking of some subjects. Laedron sighed. “If the scepter seems in good condition to you, then perhaps it is just me.”
“Just you? Has something happened that you haven’t revealed?”
“When I cast a spell the other day, it seemed as if it suddenly became harder before I could finish my casting, like something that had been helping me stopped without warning.”
“And you were using that rod at the time?”
Laedron bobbed his head.
“Easy. The power’s been depleted.”
Hanging his head, Laedron asked, “Depleted?”
“Yes, exhausted. Spent-”
“I know what the word means. How has the thing been depleted, exactly?”
“Just as we rejuvenate ourselves, we can create wands, staffs, and scepters fueled with essence, and this makes spells cast with that instrument easier to perform and more potent.”
“Then it is as I’ve feared.” Laedron stuck the scepter in his belt, intent to carry it for sentimental purposes instead of utilitarian reasons.
“Why are you sad? You merely need to recharge it.”
“And how does one do that?”
“Those soulstones would do the trick, and if each one contains the essence of a man, you could use a few of them, and the charge would last another hundred years or so. Would you like me to teach you the spell?”
A hundred years? Fascinating how these people think and plan in terms of centuries or millennia where most people think about only today or tomorrow. “Yes.”
“Would your companions prefer for us to go elsewhere? It could take some time.”
“Marac?” Laedron asked.
“It’s a bit tight in here. It’d probably be best if you did.”
“What about you, Brice?”
“He’s right. Wouldn’t want someone accidentally turned into a toad, after all.”
Laedron chuckled. “No, that would be terrible indeed. Val?”
“Yes, but I’d like to come with you.”
“You would?”
“I might learn something. You said you’d teach me.”
“Yes, but I don’t think it would benefit you. This sort of magic is beyond my expertise, and being there could be detrimental to your learning.”
“I suppose you would know best.” She sat at the table, but Laedron could tell she wasn’t happy.
“When we get to that point, I’ll teach you. I promise.”
Looking over her shoulder, she smiled. “All right.”
Laedron nodded, slipped off his pack, and turned to Tavin. “Did you have a place in mind?”
10
Through the adjacent hallway and by glimmer of dim light, Tavin led Laedron to the huge pit they had passed on the way to the shelter. Laedron imagined that Tavin had a rather pitiful existence because the few places they could visit consisted of a dreary room full of refugees, an office with basic wood furniture, and an unending hole in the ground.
“Would you care for something to drink, or should we get straight to it?” Tavin asked, holding a cup to the rocky wall near the start of the bridge. The water coming through the cracks slowly filled it.
His mouth dry from traveling, Laedron said, “Yes, a drink would be quite welcome. Thank you.”
Tavin passed Laedron the full cup. “Though it may taste strange to you, the water, I assure you, is safe.”