Ian noticed something was wrong. Very wrong. Landorei, which had been so lively and bright the last time, now appeared muted and solemn. Banners flew from every bough and branch of the noble Heren’elen. The colors were all dark purples and blacks with the center emblem, a stag, etched in silver. A faint melody permeated the air, both sad and beautiful.

“Someone important has passed,” Roland commented while looking over the banners strung between the massive Okalla trees. He pulled out his flask and took a sip before raising it into the air in a drunkard’s salute.

Ban cocked a conical ear to listen to the music. “The Song of Lament. I’ve only heard it once before, after the passing of an elven Brassman,” He said.

Vale had said nothing since their arrival. Her eyes scanned over the banners, and her mouth fell open in shock. Shaking her head, she whispered, “No.”

Mal had forced his head into her hand and let out a whining sigh.

She scratched his forehead, soothing herself more than her companion. Her tone had an odd disconnect to it as she spoke to Mal. “Guide them to the cave, Mal. Do not wait for me.” Before anyone could ask any questions, she ran off towards the Heren’elen.

Ian watched her running away, certain he had seen tears in her eyes. “I know that weird is a relative term for me anymore, but that was definitely weird. Should we be worried about her?”

“She’s lifetimes older than us, Ian. She doesn’t need us getting in the way of something we don’t understand.” Roland assured him.

Ian offered no comment, he just watched Vale until she was out of sight. When she was gone a wet nose in his hand pulled his attention away. A soft huff and Mal led the somber group through the crowds to the main gates. Everywhere they looked, people were dressed in purples and blacks, some holding muted conversations, others crying.

The song faded away as they reached the edge of the city. The depressing mood that had settled over them seemed to go with it, leaving behind only a sense of loss.

…...

The cave where Ian had woken in this world was a fair hike from the city, but with Mal in the lead, they made good time. Ian began to recognize their path as they passed the Forbidden Waters. Even now Ian felt the nymph’s alluring pull on his mind, beckoning him into the cool clear water. He set his mouth to a grimace and ignored it. Ban and Roland gave no indication that it affected them. When they came to a clearing with all the torn down Ironwood limbs Roland called them to a halt.

“Wait here, I don’t want anything disturbed more than it already has been,” Roland said. With that the mage walked towards the cave mouth, shouting to Ban over his shoulder. “If I’m not back in an hour do that thing you do with the hammer and the heroics!” He entered the cave mouth.

“You’re sure he’s a brilliant mage, right?” Ian asked.

“More than either of us could ever hope to understand, my friend,” Ban said, not sounding entirely confident in his statement.

……

Inside the cave, Roland twisted a silver ring on his right hand. Soft yellow light shone out guiding his way. He touched the walls and followed a faint pulse he felt in his fingertips. He was searching for magical energies. And this cave was rife with them. Reaching into his robe he pulled out his small flask and took a hard pull. It eased his ever-present headache. And not for the first time he cursed the Twins and the gift they’d bestowed on him. He took another sip and then slipped the cap back onto the flask and stowed it away in one of the many hidden pockets of his robe. Feeling settled now, he walked through the cave with an easier stride.

He stopped at the first of many markings. The magical glowing script had gone dormant, but the markings were still visible on the cave walls. His eyes roved over it as he moved into the area Ian had described waking up in. The end of the line, but the walls in this room were coated in symbols and languages. It would take him years to figure out this mess.

All magic was different, depending on how it was taught. The same spell could be cast in a dozen ways and written in a hundred more. Elves tended to have flowing, perfect marks when writing their magical script. Shamans of the Kulachini Desert tended to write in a way that was best described as chaotic. Even within the same region, the same spell could be written in many different ways depending on the tribe. Here and there Roland found markings that he had never seen before, and he thought he’d seen it all. The Elvish word for fire, for example, was right next to what might have been draconic for air, possibly stars. The Thantric symbols made him physically ill to look at. Thantric, the language of demons and denizens of the underworld, was dangerous to use under any circumstance.

Roland was so caught up in the insanity written on the walls that he did not notice with the cave floor came alive.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

……

Outside, Ian and Ban were watching the cave entrance as the whole thing rippled and shifted. Heavy rocks cracked and fell in an attempt to seal the cave shut.

“That can’t be good,” Ian said as he got to his feet.

Ban followed suit, pulling his hammer free. Mal let out a snarl but stayed back from the collapsing cave.

Ian went to mount the hill, but Ban clamped his hand around Ian’s arm. “No. If the cave collapses we will dig him out. We cannot risk being trapped ourselves.”

“You can’t let Roland be eaten by a cave,” Ian argued while trying to pull his arm free.

Ban tightened his grip, “Have faith. I do not intend to lose a friend this day.”

The argument ended when Roland came spilling outside. He tripped, which sent him tumbling down the steep slope. Ian and Ban rushed to his side, helping the disheveled mage to his feet.

Ian could smell the faint traces of alcohol on his breath. “Have you been…?”

Roland ignored Ian and jumped to his feet, his eyes scanning the tree line below them. “There!” He exclaimed and took off toward the tree line.

Ian glanced to Ban who shrugged and took off after his friend. Neither had seen what Roland had pointed to. Ian assumed that he was being his crazy drunken self. Nevertheless, he rushed down the hill after the surprisingly agile mage, coming to a stop at the forest's edge.

Roland held up his staff which emanated faint purple pulses.

“What the hell-” Ian said.

“Shhh!” Roland cut him off. After a pause, he lowered his staff. “Damn it, it’s gone. Did you see it?” He spun, his expression wild almost manic.

Ian and Ban only shook their heads.

“It was there! Some towering,” He paused, searching for a word, “thing,” he finished deflating at the lame explanation. He walked over to sit on a nearby log laying his staff across his lap. He reached into his robe and drew out his flask ready to drink, but stopped as the cap touched his lips.

Ian was glaring at him with impatience.

“The Kath’mara tried to kill me,” Roland muttered, looking to the flask and then to Ian. He sighed and put the flask away, “There was someone there,” He insisted, gesturing to the woods, “Gone now, but they attacked me in the cave. That or they were covering up-”

A roar of wind followed by a hollow boom and the hillside behind them sank considerably. Rock and dust spewed into the air as the cave became no more. Roland sent a burst of wind up to keep the cloud of dust and dirt from raining down on them.

“Their dirty deed," Roland continued, as though the collapse had been expected, “I can’t tell you much. I needed more time. The magic was very complex, more complex than anything I’d ever seen.”

That statement caused Ban to stand more alert. He was one of the few people who truly understood Roland’s ‘gift’.

“The part that I did understand was an astral anchor. If I’d had time perhaps I could have deciphered more, but honestly, I didn’t want the Thantric symbols seared into my mind...” The mage trailed off, muttering complex magical theorems to himself.

“Astral anchor?” Ian asked hoping to pull Roland back on topic.

“Astral anchors...Yes. Yes!” Roland straightened up as the realization hit him, “They serve as a binding between two points. For example, we are here on Paragore and then to your Earth. The anchors are capable of being a constant spot in the wilds of the aether. But the anchors themselves only serve as a binding point for other magic. I am guessing whatever brought you here was the other half of the anchor along with powerful transmission magic.”

“So when I killed the golem-monster-thing it triggered the spells that brought me here? So it formed a wormhole. They are theoretical points that bridge two, maybe more, points of space together. We don’t know a lot about them on Earth,” Ian said.

“Call it what you like,” Roland said, shrugging, “But I would’ve needed a lot more time to figure out a way to reverse the spell. And even more power to do it. With the cave destroyed…” He trailed off.

“I see,” Ian replied, and to his credit, Ian did his best to not appear disappointed. “So, the only hope is the Star Chart?” Ian asked, forgetting that Vale wanted him to keep that detail quiet.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Roland asked, rising and closing the distance between himself and Ian in two elongated strides.

Ian glanced to Ban who shrugged. This was news to the minotaur too, even if he had no idea what that news meant.

Roland snapped his fingers impatiently grabbing Ian’s attention. “Did you say Star Chart?”

“Possibly, what about them?” Ian said, taking a step back from the alcohol laces fumes that made Roland’s breath.

Roland meandered pensively towards the ruined cave entrance, picking up a few fragments of stone on the way. Mal helped him by offering a stick, which Roland took gratefully. He laid the stones out orderly on the grass and dug a gouge into the earth with Mal’s stick. Then he threw the stick, which Mal watched soar into the woods before looking back to Roland. Mal’s face conveying a look of ‘are you kidding me’.

“Fair enough,” Roland offered the lupine a friendly scratch on the ears instead.

“Alright,” Roland said, pointing to the first stone, “let’s say that this is your world,” he gestured to the next stone, “this is Paragore,” Roland traced along the gouge with a finger leaving behind a faint trace of light, “and this path of light represents a Star Chart. They are the hidden routes through the planes that allow the most powerful of wizards to traverse safely through the aether. Which is the space where magic comes from, at least that’s the theory.” He drew a haphazard path around and through the grass until he ended up connecting the two stones, “Without one, you become hopelessly lost with the simplest mistake. We wizards call it the Endless Wander. If a Chart containing your world’s path truly does exist, then we can use it to get you home.” Roland’s face lit up with genuine excitement at the prospect of this new mission. “So, who told you about the Star Chart?”

“The Arcane Seer. He is this-” Ian began.

“I know who he is,” Roland said with a wave of his hand, stopping Ian and dissipating the light trail, “I don’t think there is a being on Paragore who doesn’t. I should’ve guessed at his involvement considering all that is happening. Let us go see The Arcane Seer.”

Ian tried to contain his relief. At least there’s still hope, he thought.