By the time the lanterns' freshly carved fire runes were cool enough to touch, it was a few hours past mid day. A more substantial meal of freshly baked bread and cheese had been delivered to the chapel and Connall encouraged the younger ones to sup on it outside, while he continued to converse with Hollis.
“Contracts,” Hollis told them with an exaggerated yawn. “For Kytes’ work and the other little things Baron Connall wants while we're still here.”
If it wasn't for Ryles’ disinterested face, Alyce would have liked to stay and listen. But perhaps those discussions take quite a while, she thought. And a bored child, even a well behaved one, would impede talks before long.
To her surprise, Kytes leapt to his feet and helped carry the basket of bread rolls outside. She had thought the runic mage would have cared greatly about matters that related to contracts.
When they had settled on the low steps, Alyce told him so.
“Normally, I would. But Master Hollis didn’t ask how much magic I bestowed upon each rune." He picked off a walnut from one of the bread rolls and popped it in his mouth. “And I don’t care to tell her.”
Alyce directed a disapproving look at Ryles, who sheepishly retracted his hands from the bread basket. The boy had been posed to imitate the mage's behavior. “Then how would she know how much to charge?” She asked, handing the boy a roll and a hankercheif.
Kytes gave Ryles an apologetic grin. “Master Hollis comes from a merchant family that specializes in selling trinkets and talismans. And we share similar misgivings about the Sanctus.” He tugged at an ebony cuff on the top of his ear. “All that is to say, I trust her to select a fair price if coin must be considered.”
Ryles curiously eyed the jewelry. “You’re not a colleen, why do you wear those?”
Alyce’s eyes widened upon hearing the boy’s question. Heavens, that was terribly rude. And also — She cast a wary glance in Kytes’ direction. I hope Ky— the Esphyr doesn’t say something ridiculous or the young Master would want one too!
Kytes touched the spot where two separate helix cuffs rested. “They are inscribed and spelled to help me during travels. The one on top warns me of contaminated water or spoilt food. If I'm about to consume anything that would make me ill, it would turn scalding hot. The one on the bottom —” He brushed his dark hair to the side so Ryles could inspect the earrings more closely. “connects me with my teacher. It tells me if she is well in health. Similarly, she wears a silver one on her own ear.”
Ryles frowned. “But why?”
Furrowed creases formed between the mage's brows. “Journeying together means we look out for one another. And if either of us are unwell, the other would decide whether we need rest, find aid, or — leave. In most cases, my teacher watches over me more often than I, her.”
Nibbling on a piece of cheese, Alyce recalled the events of last night. “Is that how your teacher found you as quickly as she did?"
Kytes tilted his head in thought before nodding. “She must have felt me cast a greater spell than I should have been able to, what with my shallow pool of reserves. In which —.” He raised both hands defensively when Alyce scowled at him. “It had been filled to the brim since then. I can cast even greater magic than that of yesterday with ease.”
“The payn you consume does wonders,” she dubiously declared.
Contrary to what she expected, Kytes did not affirm her assumption.
“The water actually.”
“Speaking of water," Hollis’ voice clipped too close to Alyce's ear, causing the maid to yelp and jump to her feet. The air mage remained crouched, her chin in hand. “We will be accompanying Baron Conall to the old castle's cistern, located atop the hill behind the manor.”
Ryles dropped his half eaten bread roll on the ground. His mouth opening and closing as he speechlessly stared at Hollis.
“B– but that's where the ghosts are!” The boy sputtered.
Alyce saw the student and teacher pair exchange a look before Kytes inquired. “Ghosts?”
Closing the chapel door behind him, Connall explained to the mages. “The current manor was built on what was the old castle's bailey. However, the original keep remains atop the hill, cistern included. Since House Is'et began their watch, much of it had either been destroyed or fallen to disrepair.” He rested a hand on Ryles’ quaking figure. “It is an old place that nature has reclaimed. There are no ghosts.”
“There are!” Ryles insisted. He looked beseechingly at Alyce. “You can hear them at night.”
Connall was right that the keep on the hill was old and long abandoned. Since she was a child, Alyce was told the stories of the long territory war and how the reigning monarch later bestowed the land to its governing family. The final days of the war found many women and children seeking refuge at the tower, the castle's last defense. But when the keep fell, the civilians mysteriously vanish. Most surmised the whereabouts of the missing were simply not recorded, yet some whispered that the people had drowned themselves within the keep’s cistern to avoid confrontation. Hence the eerie noises that traveled to the manor below the hill.
For under moonlight, you will find them, the lamenting spirits that haunt the keep. Follow them down the spiraling steps and be offered a drink from the cistern’s deep.
The maid tucked her hands behind her back. It's just the breeze that roams the glen. That's what the baroness told me.
Alyce forced upon a smile. “I hear them too, but old rubble, grass and wind make all sorts of noises.”
The child looked unconvinced, chewing on his lower lip. “But what if it's not that?”
With a grand flourish, Hollis gestured at her student. “Then Esphyr Kytes will cast a spell to bind them. He's quite good at that.”
Kytes waved down her arm. “Esphyr Hollis as well. She can sense spirits.”
Though those were words of assurance, Alyce was startled to hear them. Sensing and binding spirits? Whatever for? Those who passed should be allowed to return to the goddess, their earthly bodies descending below with the spirit king. Why keep their souls here? She shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her questions.
“Indeed, protectors to accompany your father and Colleen Alyce to the cistern. We'll keep them safe, my lord Ryles.”
Ryles’ eyes darted between the two mages. “I — I will go too.” His voice wavered, but his small hands bunched into fists. “I will be the baron one day, I can't be scared.”
“And an excellent lord you will be,” Connall told his son soothingly. “Any soul within our borders are ours to look after.”
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Overgrown grass and field flowers saw fit to claim the pathing and near every inch of the hill, concealing most of the ruins with its shaggy height. The vegetation wreathed itself around the wedges of broken stone. Daylights' reach washed the jagged rubble a warmer gray and whisked away any remaining morning's dew.
Hollis inhaled deeply, surveying the area from their new vantage point. “A lovely view this gives you. Could see the manor, castle town, to the edge of the orchards there. A fine place to have built a tower!”
Shielding his eyes from the afternoon's rays and the lush green brilliance, Kytes responded. “But this is why they built the cistern, isn't it? On such a high hill, groundwater was difficult to reach. And without rainwater — .”
His teacher let out a low hum. “I've never considered Neburh's weather in the past, but now I've begun to wonder, how often did it rain then?” She directed them toward the cistern's entrance where the others waited.
The nervous Ryles appeared more at ease with the presence of a short furred mound of black and white parked at his feet. Connall had thought it wise to bring one of his herding dogs to scout the safest path up the hill and provide a little courage for his son. When the child twitched at the sound of rustles or hollow breezes, the dog would press his muzzle against Ryles’ hand and share a silly open mouthed grin.
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Hollis called out to Ryles. “No ghosts yet, my lord.”
The child frowned seriously. “Ghosts don't come out during the day.”
She chuckled and shrugged. “Of course they don't.”
Alyce caught Kytes’ feigning focus as he hopped over an uneven slab of stone. “That's not true, is it?”
The mage shook his head. “Time means little to them.” He spied a flicker of uncertainty on her face. “Are you worried?”
A flush spread across Alyce's face. “I — I am not!” she squeaked.
“Master Hollis wasn't lying.” He strode to her side. “Should something prove malicious, we will stop it immediately. As we have with the fire.”
The cistern laid under an arch of misaligned stones that once belonged to the tower's inner walls. Under its shadow, a moss covered stairway made of darker gray material descended into the subterranean cistern beneath the hill.
Upon his father's order, Ryles was left with Mac, the hound. Connall ensured his son would not like the molding scent of stale water and the sun lit hill was a happier place than the crypts below for boy and dog.
It was true. Only a few steps were taken and Alyce longed to return to the warm surface. A musty scent greeted her sensitive nose, an aroma produced by the clumps of green vegetation that climbed the walls and draped the ceiling. Their pace down the spiraling stairs was cautiously slow as eyes adjusted to the dark. The steps were damp with old moisture and at one point, Alyce braced herself against the wall to keep from slipping. Bumps crawled up her skin as something cold squished underneath her palm. Not daring to inspect her hand, she hastily wiped whatever it was against the inside of her apron.
It was only after she reached the bottom of the stairs that Alyce deigned to remove her eyes from the stone floors. Shallow water covered the base of a dozen stone pillars that were built throughout the chasm. Thin shafts of sunlight bore through holes in the ceiling, dyeing the sickly green waters with halos of gold. The floor they stood on served as a platform to draw water from, a foot higher than the pool itself.
Gazing across the glassy still water, Alyce tilted her head as she spotted a statue on the opposite side of the cistern. Like the walls and pillars that supported the cistern's structure, moss festered at its lower half, the surface speckled with a smattering of rusted stains.
“Certainly no ghosts,” Hollis called out, walking alongside the edge of the platform. “Nor the bodies of any dead. The only thing you'll want to care for is removing the water and sealing the limestone walls anew.”
Kytes knelt down to peer at the floor beneath the water. “Ouch.” His hand fled upward to favor a spot on his ear. “Even so, your wells are better for drinking. What will you be using the cistern for?”
“It is as the both of you said, the Decay threatens Neburh's borders. In a few days, I will seek volunteers to clean the cistern and prepare it in the event we need withdraw the outer villages toward the manor.”
Warmth drained from her face and terror raced through her body. Alyce swung herself to face Connall. “What?” She managed to choke out.
Connall wore a gentle expression as he explained to the trembling woman. “I trust you to not share this with the girls, the townspeople, or Ryles, until the time is right. It is why the Esphyrs are here.” When Alyce did not react, remaining stunned and silent, he continued. “They have discovered the ill fate that has befallen Scaidun.”
Alyce hastily gulped for air. “Scaidun — but we trade with them — .”
“Yes, I know, Alyce.”
She let out a shaky breath and her hands clutched around her elbows as if she was giving herself a comforting embrace. The manor servants did not interact with the outskirts much, but everyone knew the names of surrounding villages and what goods and wares they were best known for. Scaidun, surrounded by the woods, produced great handmade furniture and decor. They provided the timber for many of Neburh's buildings and housing.
Eyes burning, Alyce turned around in time to hide the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Though she knew no names of any Scaidun resident, a deep ache found its home in her chest. The Decay eats at the person's body then mind, like an infection upon a tree starting from the roots. It was an unnatural death that leaves behind the soul without its shell and unable to leave the plane of the living. And the residents of Scaidun did not deserve such a death with no chances of life anew.
A tentative weight rested on her shoulder and she turned her face up. Kytes’ brows were knitted, his eyes downcast. She was about to reassure him when movement tugged at the corner of her eye and she jerked her head to look at the shadowy curiosity.
“Esphyr Kytes, are there magicks that can get rid of sickness in the water?” Connall asked, dipping his herding stick to check the depth. “Not this water, mind. But once all is cleared and cleaned.”
Kytes puzzled on the ask. “There are, but boiling the water would do the same. If not even better.”
“Unfortunately, there are those who think the act of boiling water is a hassle. They would rather drink from the source, leave it to fate, or none at all.” The man waved a hand in irritable agreement. “For those foolish few, I would like to at least reduce the chances of — inconvenient ailments.”
A shuddering chill prickled up her hands as Alyce focused her attention across the reservoir. It was not unlike those morning moments at the wells.
It was an intricate sculpture, a lonely feminine figure with concrete hair stained an unpleasant rust. The statue's complexion imitated flawless flesh, and if not for the cracks on the cheeks and full lips, the mottled skin green and gray, Alyce would have believed it real. The skin draped seamlessly into the pool, a dress made of web like veins that disappeared under the shallow waters. The sculpture’s carved face was riddled with age: the moss lashes, the corroded copper orbs that stared back. Then the eyes flitted to the right.
Kytes inspected the inner wall and found old marks, which indicated where the water could rise to without overflowing. “I can place two runes on the floor. It will occasionally send a wave of high temperature through the waters. Although, I'm still doubtful of its safety for drinking. Washing perhaps or irrigation for waste but consumption — .”
Scratching the stubble that grew on his chin, Connall nodded. “I will warn the people and should they become ill because they refuse to heed it, well!”
Nodding, Kytes straightened and heaved his legs over the edge to enter the reservoir. “Then I will engrave the runes and — .”
A splitting headache tore across the top of Alyce's head and she staggered in pain. Soft pitiful moans and harsh whispers began to reverberate against the cistern's walls, the sound possessing every thought Alyce had with panic. Visions of mottled skin seeped into her mind, green veins turning an ugly red, the smooth granite texture swelled as blemishes formed. Then a beautiful face, but its eyes were no longer empty. Alyce swallowed a scream. Its features contorted, mouth gaped open much too wide than a human would. Limbs covered in flailing tendrils of organic vegetation were flung up as the figure shrieked, tearing at the throat.
“Kytes!” Alyce threw herself upon him, clinging to his shoulders and reeling his weight back. “Please don't! I beg of you! Don't!”
He braced himself against the floor, doing his best to not tumble into Alyce. “Colleen, what —.” Kytes turned around in time to stop the maid from tearing at her scalp.
“It'll hurt us! The lampades’ fire! It'll burn our flesh, sear into us!” Another haunting scream tore a cry from Alyce's throat. “Please stop. Please!"
“Heavens, what is this!” Hollis had ran to their side.
Breathing heavily, Alyce pointed to the cistern's inner chamber. “The statue there — she's afeared of what you're to do!”
Kytes scanned the pointed direction, but found no notable silhouette that resembled the definition of a statue. Hollis whistled and several ripples skated across the water, as if a breeze blew across the reservoir. Judging from her frown, she too could not detect what Alyce spoke of. However, both had an inkling to what plagued the maid.
“A crinaeae, there must be one that presides over the cistern,” he told Hollis. Seeing Alyce covering her ears, he clamped his hands over them as if sheltering her from whatever sound she heard. “She's hurting Colleen Alyce.”
“And of course, she is the only one who sees and hears this angry water nymph.” Hollis shot an urgent look at the bewildered Connall. “We best leave. A nymph in distress will begin to affect her surroundings and by the time we notice the effects, it means irreversible disaster. And Alyce is already listening to her lament. She must leave."
The man nodded and surged forth to collect Alyce from Kytes.
"I will take her above, Esphyr."
Reluctantly, Kytes began to release the young woman from his custody. "Where is the crystal I gave you last night?" He asked Alyce, helping her up.
Shakily, she produced it from her skirts' pocket. Kytes collected the charm from her unsteady fingers and sank more of his magic into it.
As much as you can, stop the nymph's lament before she drowns in it.
The engraved binding rune pulsed in answer. Satisfied, he returned it to her.
“Do you think she'll talk to you, Kytes?" Hollis asked him after Connall had led Alyce back up the staircase. “I know you sense other nymphs from time to time but I have not heard of a daughter that reacted so violently and so quickly before. You might be the cause of her fury."
“I most definitely am the cause,” Kytes answered quietly. “Don't worry, I'll be careful."
"You had better. Leave if she begins to smother your flames. Thyis knows the lampades would never help you when you're in danger."
"Don't I know it?" Nymphs had no issues blessing some people with their own elements' store and turning them into runic mages, but rarely would the spirits aid those followers further.
He waited for his teacher to climb up the steps before he swung around to glare at where Alyce had pointed out the nymph.
Gritting his teeth, Kytes knelt down and bowed his head low. “Crinaeae, my deepest apologies. It was not my intention to hurt you.” He kept his tone respectful, imploring for forgiveness, despite feeling his fire shrink under the weight of apprehension. “Your daughter of water has told me of your cries, it was my mistake. I did not know the pain the lampades’ fire might cause you. But I know now. It will not happen again.”
It was the intensifying scent of mildew and old moisture that announced the presence of the unhappy nymph to him. Kytes shuddered. He had always been fortunate, and unfortunate, to perceive other elemental nymphs. But more often than not, it was usually under their resentful regard that he could.
An illusion penetrated his focus. Instead of the golden sunlight that grazed the cistern's waters, scarlet set ablaze its surface. Blackened smoke slithered through the holes on the ceiling, smothering the chamber in a choking gray haze. The moss that climbed the stairs was smothered with splotches of red.
The water nymph swiftly released her hold and deserted him, leaving only the weight of the memory behind.
Though no longer suffering from the spirit's wrath, Kytes felt something wet drip from his nose. Raising his hand to check, he grimaced upon realizing it was his own blood. His body did not like having an incompatible elemental spirit forcing herself into his mind.
But it made sense why she had done so. It was a warning.
The castle was her home, the residents, her people. And she had watched it fall. And all she remembered was fire.