The Currents of Magic

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Meyer did not sleep that night. When the room was blanketed in darkness he felt scared, but when he uncovered the glowstone lamp, it wasn't the light that kept him awake. He couldn't stop thinking about the messages, or the Magician, or the ring, all the signs proliferating into a mass of dangerous foreboding. Yet even as the experiences merged into a singular source of anxiety, Meyer could not explain how they fit together. He was sure the terrible creature they had witnessed was one of the Magician's awful creations—one of the unliving—but past that nothing made sense. Who was warning him to leave and why was he the only one receiving the messages? Why was the Magician attacking Ilith—how had one of the unliving managed to slip into the Dale?

And, the ring. Meyer was clueless as to explaining the two visions of Lord Eschera, but in his state of uneasiness, her purple eyes kept appearing before him... the severed heads... Eschera was destroying entire communities in her quest to find Odessa's son... And the Darnac Stronghold... why did it seem so familiar?

Eventually Meyer could tolerate the cycle of fear and doubt no longer. The sun had risen an hour ago, and the sounds of the servants going about their daily tasks—pruning the gardens, hauling food from the warehouses to the dining halls, tending the livestock—was high on the morning. Meyer left his room and staggered down to the courtyard. He felt light headed, and wiry, a cool stickiness clinging to his skin, but the morning sunlight cleared his mind. He needed answers.

He turned towards Craftsman's Row, pausing as he reached the path. The message had warned him against trusting anyone... There was no choice. If there was anyone he could trust it was Adryn. Meyer started off to the Arcane Observatory, staring hollowly at the buzzing cheerfulness of the Dale. When he passed Master Lewin, the elderly man having just emerged humming from the smithery, a cart of horseshoes in tow, he had to resist the urge to run up and shake him by the shoulders—to demand answers, explanations. Cade was right. Eldrin's Dale had existed for centries. It would last another day.

When Meyer reached the Arcane Observatory he found Adryn in her classroom, mixing two fluorescent potions. She looked up as he entered, though her face remained impassive.

"A surprise to see you so early in the morning," she said.

Meyer exhaled, his hands balled into fists by his side. "I need to ask you something," he said.

"I can hardly guess what couldn't have waited for our morning lesson," said Adryn, "but seeing as you're here, please, speak freely."

Meyer glanced at the corner of the room, before shifting his gaze to Adryn—her calm composure, attentive eyes. He clenched his jaw. Moments ago he had been prepared to tell her everything, and yet now he had a lump in his throat. He swallowed, reminding himself that he could speak openly with her...

"I've seen these messages," Meyer began, he was talking quickly, the words threatening to jumble together. "They appeared twice—in glowing red letters. Both times there was a strange ringing first—and then the words appeared, floating in the air. They were warnings. The messages were warning me. They said—"

But Adyrn had cut him off, and her voice was so severe that Meyer could hardly process what she was saying. She had never spoken in such a tone, her words like knives aimed at his chest.

"I'm surprised," she said. "I would have thought that being surpassing in magical ability would have been enough to satiate your desire for attention. Now you spin personal reveries as well. There are countless scrolls in Scholar's Hall that you could consult on arcane messages before wasting my time with this nonsense."

Meyer stood shocked, and Adryn bore down on him, her eyes cold and empty.

"I am no friend to confide in," she said. "Leave."