Scavengers of the Deadlands

Chapter One: The University of Magick

Eight Years Later...

The tiny beetle skittered to the end of the fleshy black fungal lobe, chittering to itself. In a blur of wings it was gone as three figures crested the hill. Two Furrae women and a donkey. The taller one’s fur was patched in gold and brown, white and black, her large rounded ears flickered at every sound and her violet eyes regarded the world suspiciously. The other was younger, but almost as tall, her pelt a tannish brown, broken only by her black tufted ears and dark facial mask. She leaned heavily on their plodding donkey, trailing her knapsack on the ground. It was she who spoke first.

“There’s nothing here.” The disappointment hung heavy in her words. Abigail Galbraith had been expecting miracles, sights worth seeing. She had not walked for seven days to see little more then barren hills adorned by a carpet of black coral-fungus.

“You have to learn to look the right way,” her tall, not quite Canid, guide stated. “The towers of Tirra-Inle are hidden from the ignorant.”

“Well that’s all very pompous, but how am I supposed to study there if I cannot even see them?” Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m not really sure I enjoy being called ‘ignorant’ either.”

A hand patted her shoulder as though to comfort her. Abigail did not appreciate that gesture either. It made her feel like a child, and she was not a child. She was fifteen years old and she was going to study to be a mage, just as her father had. It was all right for Aeturnis, her guide and Sponsor, she had graduated from the esteemed University of Tirra-Inle some five years before. She obviously knew where it was.

“Ignorance is not an insult,” Aeturnis said, “it merely means you lack in the knowledge. I could not see the University at first either, but luckily I had your father as my Sponsor and he showed me this little trick. Close your eyes.”

Abigail obeyed, although she had no idea how this could work – how could closing your eyes help you see anything?

“Take a deep breath, relax. You’ve done that? Good. Now open your eyes just a little, so they’re only slits. Look to your right without moving your head.”

And then she saw it, a mere glimpse in her peripheral vision but she could see the twisted towers, the wild, sprawling gardens.

“I can see it.” She shouted.

“Good, you can open your eyes properly now and it will be there for you forever and always.”

“Can anyone do that? What is it?” Abigail asked, her eyes drinking in the sight of the towers perched unsteadily against the mountains and the narrow paved road weaving its way through the tangled wilderness that clustered at its heels.

“Yes, but you’ll find that few do. Most people rarely take the time to spare a look at the scenery. It’s a very simple Illusion of Concealment. You’ll learn more about them later. Now pick up your backpack, rest time is over. We’ve got to get you settled in before sunset.”

With a deep, resigned sigh Abigail heaved her heavy pack onto her shoulders. It was one thing being accepted into the University, but another entirely to have to walk there. Apparently it was bad form to take a carriage - although it was just as clearly not bad form to hobble in with blisters upon blisters, fur bleached by the unrelenting sun or tangled by the never-ending rains - the weather seemed to be either one or the other, with nothing in between. Aeturnis nudged her donkey into action. As a full-fledged Mage she did not have to bear the burden of belongings alone. How Abigail envied her. She took a long gulp of water from her flask, wincing a little at the flatness of flavour and began the final part of her journey.

The gardens of Tirra-Inle were an erratic affair. Perched incongruously in the Deadlands, one would have thought that nothing would grow in the tainted soil but these grounds proved otherwise. Oak trees lined the path, their branches twisted and shaped by Magick into arches. It would be a dense tunnel, were it not autumn and the trees had not shed their leafy burden, carpeting the road in a blanket of gold and red and mushy brown. Amongst the trees was a seemingly random scattering of statues in various states of deterioration, some so crawling with vines they were almost entirely obscured from view. They were creatures conceived entirely from imagination with an odd assortment of extra limbs, wings and in some cases, heads. Abigail shivered a little as she passed them, for every single one stared at the path.