The shouting was audible even through the thick, two-winged doors. The guards on either side seemed just as uncomfortable as Midhir and his classmates.
“I feel like Lonan’s idea wasn’t welcome at all,” Arwen sheepishly whispered, wincing at the raised voices.
Willow nodded in agreement. Her face was somewhat pale, and she was fiddling with a few strands of hair to keep herself busy. Avoiding even looking at Lord Orlein’s study, she peered out the window, watching the ash-covered Bareon.
Moments passed in awkward, nerve-wrecking silence until it was broken by fast-paced footsteps approaching from the other side of the hallway.
Aodan approached them with a stack of papers in hand. “Lord Alistair,” he bowed his head as he passed by the young Orlein heir, then once again as he glanced at Willow. “Lady Aulorn, glad to see you well. Allow me to thank you in Lord Orlein’s stead for your invaluable aid in the hospital last night.”
Willow forced a weak smile, while Alistair simply nodded in response. His focus remained on his father’s study.
Aodan then turned to Arwen. “Have you recovered well enough to resume your activities, my lady?”
The young woman nodded with a beaming smile. “Willow and Midhir’s healing was more than enough to heal my wound, and the healers in the hospital did a wonderful job removing the scar. I simply needed a short time to rest. I’m quite well now, thank you for asking.”
Aodan seemed satisfied. “That’s a relief,” he then turned towards Midhir. “While I know you wish to remain here to await Lord Orlein’s decision, I must ask you to accompany me for a moment. I would like to check how the wound in your hand has healed.” His gaze was telling enough – there was more he wanted than just checking his wound.
“Sure,” Midhir sighed, shooting an apologetic glance at Alistair.
The young noble simply nodded with a stern expression.
Aodan knocked on Lord Orlein’s study’s door, then stepped inside. A few moments later, he left the room, no longer carrying the stack of papers. “Please follow me,” he gestured down the hallway before leading Midhir away from the group.
They soon arrived at his room.
“The sending mirror has been set up,” Aodan’s voice was cold and respectful. “You should be able to contact anyone you wish – given they are near another mirror, of course.” He bowed and motioned to leave.
“Thank you,” Midhir’s gaze turned to the sending mirror.
“It must be I who thanks you – our city is singed and in need of aid.” With that said, Aodan left the room, closing the door behind him.
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Midhir took a deep breath, then approached the sending mirror.
It was a shallow, yet wide bronze basin filled with a silver-coloured fluid. The edges of the basin were decorated with small, silver gemstones and imperial script etched into the bronze. The basin was placed on a wheeled stand that kept it at about chest-height.
He lifted his hand, hovering his palm just above the silver liquid’s surface. “I call thee, not by blood nor ancestry, but by love and memories, Mother.” The chant rolled off his tongue, he felt his power drain as the silver coloured gemstones embedded into the basin started to glow. The imperial script lit up, and the liquid inside the basin stirred.
A moment passed, then another, then a third. Then, rippled formed on the surface of the liquid. He quickly pulled his hand away as his heart raced.
Colours whirled in the basin for a short few moments before they formed the image of a beautiful woman with raven black hair. Her fair skin and bright green eyes made her seem almost otherworldly. Her red lips curled up for a split second as she looked directly at Midhir.
“This is a surprise,” her voice echoed from the basin. “Though I fear it may be an unpleasant one – you seem rather troubled, son.” Her gaze seemed to peer right into his soul, despite the distance between them.
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Midhir sighed. “Mother, Bareon is in danger. You must send enforcers here.”
His mother raised an eyebrow. Her lips formed a thin line for a moment as she considered his words. “Explain,” her voice was cold as ice, and devoid of any emotion. “There are crisis all over Eldoria, and not enough Enforcers.”
Midhir gulped. His heart was racing, and his limbs felt cold. His power continued to flow into the gemstones surrounding the basin to keep the connection active. It was difficult to maintain that flow and make a sensible and convincing argument at the same time.
“Midhir, love,” her voice startled him. “Just tell me what happened – you look pale as a sheet of paper, and that’s rare for you. What threatens Bareon?”
“I think,” he summoned his courage, “One of the Old Gods is waking up.”
The woman’s eyes shot wide open. Her calm demeanour changed in an instant as blood drained from her face. “What makes you say that?” Her voice remained cold and calculating – she was still in control, despite being shaken up.
Midhir hesitated for a split second. He lifted his right hand, showing his palm to her. “There was a ritual,” he started to explain the events that transpired since they arrived at Bareon. He hadn’t much time before Alistair and the others would start growing worried, or Aodan was noticed standing outside his room. People could grow suspicious, so he hurriedly explained.
Only when he was finished talking did his mother speak again. “I understand. Enforcers will be sent to Bareon, but it will take them a few days to arrive – almost all of them are currently in the Olisar province.” She pondered for a while, biting her lips as her gaze drifted away. Moments passed in charged silence before she spoke again. “How fast is the New Growth spreading?”
“Fast. It’s already scaled some of the walls – the attacks prevented Lord Orlein’s forces from burning the roots off,” he had noticed how much the New Growth had spread when he reached Bareon the night before. It was spreading at an alarming speed, and Bareon’s old ways of holding it back wouldn’t be viable for much longer.
“I see.” His Mother raised her chin. Her gaze grew cold as she met his. “These are your team’s orders – explore the cavern beneath Bareon, find the chalk altar, and destroy it. Investigate the temple, secure what remains of the serpent’s corpse, and make sure its brought back to the surface for further research.” She only paused for a split second. “The Orlein Heir must survive, Midhir. And you too – no unnecessary risks.”