In the Valley of a Thousand Footprints

[iii] Magic - |part 2|

"Okay listen we cant be sure of that exactly," interjected Sackn, "he may have elected on his own to stay in Crrymbylpwlth for a day or something."

"He isn't that kind of man Sackn," Osian said, "he isn't the kind to do things on a whim."

"Hold on a damn moment!" Efa shouted through the din, "when you say Pagnodd is missing, as in he hasn't come back to Cayrnr or is it that he came back and hasn't come in today?"

"He hasn't been seen since the time he left for Crrymbylpwlth yesterday. Trust me I asked the gate guard. They hadn't seen anyone like Pagnodd enter the city." Jeryor stated. He was a tall, balding man who's temples had veins popping in them at the moment.

"Then maybe he's still on the way back?" Wydde proposed, "you know he got late or something."

"Not possible," shot back Efa. She had completely forgotten about her plans, the thought of someone as organized and well versed as Pagnodd going missing was outrageous. "The journey to Crrymbylpwlth can easily be covered in about three hours with a trotting horse. Saying he did his things there for about three hours and if we factor in the return journey, he would still have plenty of time to come in today."

The group stood in sullen silence. Everyone thinking of a plausible reason for Pagnodd's sudden disappearance.

Seeing that no one was making the next call, Wydde opted to speak," in that case we can only conclude that—"

"His house," Efa interjected, "have you checked at his house?"

"What's the point?" Sackn asked, kicking the ground as he spoke.

"The point is that we'll maybe find some clues as to whether something had gone wrong since the beginning or if he left a note of some kind. I know the place." Efa concluded the argument in this way and started heading to the entrance.

"Hold on ill come with."

"Osian? well okay sure. Two people work better than one I suppose."

The two of them went around to the back of the office where Osian's horse was. A brown gelding who whinnied as Osian got near. After mounting, the two of them set off. Nothing much was said. The both of them were busy thinking.

They cantered through the main streets where most of the people were. Magi who were staying at the many hotels and vacation houses in Cayrnr. Certain stores were full to bursting as people jostled outside in lines and crowds. It seemed to be a lively day. And it would have been too had it not been for this sudden conundrum.

It took them some time to get to the place, mostly because Efa forgot where the house was somewhat. Regardless they tethered the horse on the main street and wandered down the by alley and into a sort of quadrangle surrounded by buildings that didn't have a clear view of the street. They came upon a large building that was in good condition and had plants growing in the yard. As they walked up to the porch, immediately it became evident that something had happened.

The front door was split in two, down the middle, in a horizontal line and was lying face down inside the house. As the pair got closer, they noticed that the door had char marks where it had been divided.

"What the—the devil happened here. . . " Efa asked. Her hands were trembling at her sides.

Osian made no attempt to answer. Instead he conjured up a bulbous sphere of fire, muttering, "llosgi" under his breath. "Stay back Efa," he said, stepping over the broken door gingerly, "follow, but carefully. And if we get into any trouble, remember this spell: Cadw'n ddiogel. Shout it out and pray it works."

Quite evident was the carnage that the house had gone through. Cabinets and shelves had been swept clean. Books and belongings were thrown to the ground, and furniture was badly broken. With bated breath the pair proceeded, following the trail of destruction. This was defiantly not a fight. Someone had broken in.

Osian meticulously went room by room, checking to see if there was any indication of what had happened. The bedroom was torn apart, the living room didn't look like it could sustain life and the dining room looked like a storm went through it. He seemed confused for a second before remembering that Pagnodd had a basement.

"There's one more place to check," he said, "by the gods, I hope we can get this done soon, Wydde and Sackn are probably worried."

Efa nodded. Her fright had mostly evaporated, though she was in flight or fight mode. She grabbed onto her satchel strap with an iron grip. Her eyes darted in a million different directions, observing, looking for any clue that'd point them in the right direction.

They found the open trapdoor to the basement and descended the stairs slowly, cautiously. Efa's heart was racing, the only light source came from Osian's ball of flame. Their shadows cast vehement figures of phantoms that flickered and warped as the spiral stairway was becoming ever steeper. At the end of the stairs was a door. Osian swung it open and pointed the fireball into the melancholic darkness of an ever present phantasma.

Osian stepped over the threshold and into the basement.

It was the last place to search, after it they could head back. Nothing's happened so far thought Efa, right as the very opposite transpired before her eyes.

A hand came over Osian's mouth as another grabbed the wrist with the fireball. His hand with the fireball spasmed, though the fireball didn't dissipate. And the hand covering his mouth trembled for a second before a strange, muffled whooshing sound was heard. And right before Efa's eyes, Osian's head exploded. His brain matter splattered on the open door and doorframe, shining with a translucent sheen from the reflected light of his own fireball, while blood gushed forth from his headless corpse like a struggling fountain as it tried desperately to find balance on the walls. One of his stray eyes had popped out of its destroyed socket from the force of the explosion and hit Efa, followed by more slathering blood which soaked Efa's shirt as Osian's corpse made a final fall backwards on to Efa then fell with a crash, displacing even more blood from his arteries and making a small dark shining pool of blood.

Cadw'n ddiogel was the last thought that ran through her barely functioning mind as the same hand closed over Efa's mouth as well. The same whooshing noise but heavily muffled and darkness.

Subsequent days or even minutes later Efa's mind regained a consciousness. Then another subsequent day or something later, her eyes fluttered open. The events of the day came crashing back to her like a tidal wave made of the most furious water spirits in all of the vale. She bolted upright and shot to her feet and immediately stared touching her own face and neck. Blood had dried on her shirt and hugged her figure tight. The sudden image and sound of splattering brain matter echoed in her hollow mind. She staggered twice and vomited her breakfast up into some bushes, gagging and choking on her own spit, tears and snot.

After retching up everything in her stomach, she slowly realized that she was in the yard enclosed by buildings they had entered through and that it was nighttime. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. Her mind felt tired, she wanted to sleep. Then she heard the screams.

As if her ears had chosen that moment to start working, she heard screams of people and another sound registered and so did a smell; the sound of crackling fire and the smell of burning flesh.

The girl ran out into the main street in a daze. All around her there was the unmistakable orange glow of red hot flames. They licked the buildings from head to foot and burst out of a sudden from windows and doors. In her peripheral vision, she saw an old man with his entire upper body covered in flame. Her eyes widened and her mind stopped working again. She wrinkled her nose automatically from the smell. A few Magi were seen casting large water spirits. Most of their efforts were futile.

The girl started hyperventilating, the only thing to inhale though was smoke and ash and the worsening smell of rotting flesh. Behind her something large hit the ground.

"Wha-what—w-what is—is. . . " she whispered out into the wind, horrified yet unable to take her eyes off the destruction in front of her.

"It's magic," a cocksure voice behind her said, "the thing all you shit bastards revere and worship." He gave a deranged laugh. "Does it surprise you?" He began laughing again, manic, disjointed laughing.

"Does it surprise you what magic can do. . .?"