Kashur

No good could come of this.

The tremors finally stopped, and Kashur let the protection spell die on his fingertips. The air in the room was thick with dust that hovered and caught the sunlight, creating a ghostly haze. Everyone he could see was covered in a film of it—Mol Morin, the two Elves, himself. It coated his throat with every breath.

“What was that?” the Dark Elf cried, holding her cowl across her nose and mouth.

Mol Morin ignored her, instead stepping outside to the balcony. He lifted something from the ground and examined it.

“A meteorite,” Kashur replied, shaking the dust from his cape. “One the Sky Engineers did not predict.”

The Elf Queen bolted for the door, the Dark Elf following on her heels.

“Where are you going?” Kashur called after them, but shouting only made him cough. There was no sign of the creature they’d failed to heal. He joined Mol Morin on the balcony. A purple shard of crystal gleamed in the old man’s hand, oddly lit from within. “Where did that come from?” Kashur asked.

Mol Morin raised his head, eyes shimmering like a child’s on Sugaring Day. “Hold it in your hand, Summoner,” he whispered. “Feel it!”

He pressed the shard into Kashur’s gloved palm, and he felt it—the surge of power. “It’s magic.”

“It could be dangerous,” Mol Morin said, plucking it from Kashur’s hand and swooping back into the mess of his laboratory to rummage for a wooden box. Dumping its contents—quills and ink—onto the littered floor, he dropped the crystal inside and snapped it closed.

“I’m going to be the one who has to clean up this mess, aren’t I?” Kashur said, looking at the spilled quills unhappily.

“Go and check on the Disciples,” Mol Morin ordered. “Then collect as many of these crystals as you can. Keep an eye out for that creature, too. I don’t want that thing running loose. Who knows what it’s capable of.”

“I think the Elves went after it.”

“Then see that they find it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And Kashur...”

“Yes, Sir?”

Mol Morin’s eyes held a warning. “Be discreet.”

“Discreet is my middle name, sir.” He bowed with a swirl of his dusty cloak, then made his way down the stone steps, snapping his fingers to magick away the facade so he could see the truth behind it. None of the Wizards or Disciples appeared seriously injured. Those who had suffered injuries were being healed.

“Moyshec, come with me,” Kashur growled, waving the Dwarf Wizard over. “We have a special assignment.”

“Did ye see that meteorite come crashing down?” his friend asked, eyes as round as duck eggs.

“No, I went deaf and blind over the last ten minutes and then was miraculously cured. Of course I did. Come on, Moysh. We have an assignment.”

“It lit up the sky! It was huge!”

“Yes, it was impressive. Now, pay attention. We’re looking for purple crystals and a creepy little monster that will scare the breakfast out of you.” He paused. “And we’re not telling anyone what we’re doing.”

Outside, Kashur let his gaze sweep over the grounds. They hadn’t used a facade spell here, and everything looked just as it was... the garden, the orchard, the fields of grazing animals, the training arena, the lake, the new well, the old well. There didn’t seem to be much damage, thankfully, and much of the Lair could be restored with a new facade spell. There was no sign of the creature, though, nor any purple crystals.

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What were those crystals? They had come from the meteorite, that was certain. And they held magic. Kashur had felt it, shifting and twitching like an embryo inside an egg. Was this some new form of celestial magic? If so, of what was it capable? They’d have to see if the Sky Engineers had any answers. It was their job to study these types of portents and decipher them.

Noises from the stables stole his attention. Kashur exchanged a look with Moyshec, and they slipped inside, but it was only Sochee, the Wood Elf, readying the Elves’ horses.

“You’re leaving already?” Kashur asked her.

She gave a quick nod as she adjusted the bridle, which had originally been rigged for the carriage, not a rider. “My lady demands it.”

“But your creature is still missing.”

Sochee shrugged. “I do what my lady tells me, and I do not ask questions.”

Kashur pulled a pair of saddles off their pegs. “Here. You can’t ride all the way to the Elflands bareback, can you?”

“Of course we can. We’re Elves.”

He replaced the saddles, slightly embarrassed that he knew little to nothing about the Elven Faire. “I owe you an apology,” he said, “for mis-speaking to you earlier when we were under attack by the Elemental. Obviously I am not the Alchemist. I only said so because your wooden insects were terrifying.”

She pressed her lips together to hide her obvious pleasure at his compliment. “They have other uses, too.” She fluttered her fingers, and a toy bumblebee buzzed his way, hovering in front of him. “Ask it to tell you its secrets.”

Kashur recoiled as the thing flitted uncomfortably close to his nose. “Tell me your secrets.”

“I owe you an apology,” the bee repeated in his voice, “for mis-speaking to you earlier when we were under attack by the Elemental. Obviously I am not the Alchemist. I only said so because your wooden insects were terrifying.”

“Ha! That’s amazing!” he cried. “And intrusive.”

“Keep it.” She turned again to the strap in her hand. “As a thank you.”

Kashur toed the stable floor with his boot. “I’d like to apologize to your mistress as well, before you leave.”

“You should do that.”

He glanced up. “Do you know where she is?”

“I’m not her keeper, Wizard,” she said with a grin.

“Of course not.” Kashur bowed a goodbye and led Moyshec out of the stables.

The Dwarf shook his head in amiable disbelief. “What are ye doing, Summoner?”

Kashur caught movement at the vine-covered garden gate—a dark, loping thing. “I already told you what we’re doing. We’re looking for purple crystals and a little monster.” He pointed. “And I think I just saw it go that way. Come on!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Moyshec scurried after him on his short legs.

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about yer flirting with the Elves.”

“I’m not flirting with the Elves.” Inside the garden, Kashur spotted two half-eaten tomatoes on the vine, their tender flesh torn by sharp teeth. He pulled the ruined fruit off and tossed it into the compost pile, then peered under the plants. “And so what if I am?”

“You know there are no male Elves, right?”

Kashur tugged off a glove and let his fingers tickle a new crop of yellow blossoms. The flowers closed and grew into green lumps, then swelled fat and red in his hand. The new tomatoes would replace the ones the creature had taken. “Again, what of it?”

“So they don’t really need us. They’re not even thinking about us that way.”

The rustling of a patch of summer squash drew his attention. Kashur shuffled the leaves aside, but found only damaged fruit, not what was eating them. He gave those plants an extra boost, too. “Why aren’t you helping me look?”

“They mostly, ye know, take care of each other’s needs,” Moyshec went on.

Kashur lobbed a mauled pepper at Moyshec’s temple, but the Dwarf caught it. “Show some respect.”

Moyshec guffawed. “She’s probably hundreds of years old, too. To her, yer like a sniveling little brat. Even more of a sniveling little brat than ye are to the rest of us.”

Yes, Moyshec was probably at least eighty rotations even though he appeared no older than an Imperial of forty. “At least I’m not short.” Kashur whipped another pepper at him, this time harder and faster. “Besides, I’ve heard of Elves taking men of other races to their beds... or hammocks... or whatever it is they sleep in.”

Moyshec scratched his beard. “How would that work in a hammock?”

Kashur let his imagination wander for a brief, highly distracting moment involving many pointy-eared beauties and swinging hammocks and himself being whisked into the midst of it in only his nightbreeches before the gate on the far end of the garden creaked. “There it is! Come on! It’s headed to the orchard!”

The sweet scent of apple blossoms permeated the air as Kashur scanned the even rows of trees, but there was no sign of the little monster. He squinted up into the canopies as he strode along. No luck. But he did notice the glint of something purple in one tree’s branches.

“Keep looking. I’ll just be a moment,” he told Moyshec.