Although the battle on the landing had ended almost an hour earlier, Eresthanon had no trouble detecting the traces of their movement. The battery of minor sensory enhancements he had enacted at Quaesitor Dean’s request made it a simple matter.
While more potent sorceries would have been ineffective given the density and nature of the magics in the chantry, lesser, mundane enhancements to his already acute elven senses were more than a match for the task.
Subtle impressions in the carpet, the faint but lingering scent of ozone and other byproducts of mystic energies impacting worldly materials, even minute deviations in the dust carried on air currents circulating through the townhouse, all of these little things provided Eresthanon with a clear sense of recent movement and a rough idea of how recent it was.
He couldn’t distinguish one trail from another all that well and changes from specific movement of bodies and appendages were too minute to sort out, but the movement of larger bodies through space left something like a hazy, indistinct afterimage he could follow.
They were fortunate to have arrived when they did; a half hour later and the signs would have taken much greater scrutiny to discern, if they could have been at all. This phantom path led them further upwards, to the fourth of five storeys in this mystic stronghold belonging to some as yet unknown arcane order.
The culprit who had so brutally murdered half a dozen magi with little apparent effort was most likely to be on the last floor, if they were still in the building at all. The potential for violence with a foe this dangerous set Eresthanon’s nerves on edge.
Stugrond’s exercises had shown him he was no stranger to armed conflict, but he didn’t relish the idea of a bloody confrontation, especially so early in his new Cycle. His partner was something of an unknown, as well, although Eresthanon was beginning to suspect she might do the heavy lifting if it came to a battle.
Aaliyah had taken point in their two-man formation since they arrived at the chantry. She had been relatively prudent and cautious in their investigation of the grounds, but Eresthanon suspected it had more to do with procedure and protecting him than concern for her own safety. The woman herself seemed to hold little fear of whomever had assaulted this place, leading Eresthanon to wonder, once more, exactly what manner of Creaturae the Quaesitor was.
That was not the kind of thing you asked someone unprompted. It was all the more important given their working relationship; questions of that nature could suggest a lack of trust in either his partner or the Vigiles itself. Eresthanon knew Aaliyah was a bit prickly and prideful, so it was not a subject he planned to broach without very good reason.
It did seem implausible that her boldness was unfounded and having her at his back gave him no small measure of solace. Elves often relied on magic and speed to hold their own in praeternatural warfare, but he knew the odds were against him if he had to face the kind of might demonstrated by the chantry’s assailant without assistance.
“Shields on,” Aaliyah said, practically under her breath. “Won’t be much use against our doer on account of they’re so hands on, but it should help if any wizard trap bullshit is waiting for us.”
Each of the vigilum touched the badge wallet hanging from their clothes, activating the enchanted metal plate stored within. Eresthanon felt a dull, vibrating hum spring to life around him, not the most potent magic but a passable arcane shield nonetheless. He could reinforce it with his own defensive castings if trouble arose.
The fourth floor was much like the third — a long, central hallway running the length of the townhouse with doors on either side, and ending at a staircase leading up to the next floor. Instead of five doors on each side placed at regular intervals, this hall had two doors on the right side and four on the left.
“No signs of movement from any of the doors, Quaesitor,” he said. “The trail continues directly to the stairs.”
“The wizards might’ve run out of defenders,” Aaliyah mused. “Still, take nothing for granted; we’ll move slow and steady.”
Once more, the two vigilum crossed the building in pursuit of an unknown killer, or some tangible clue to their identity and motive, at the very least. They moved with caution, neither pushing too fast nor dawdling on their way. Eresthanon kept the structure of a spell primed in his mind and the intent to draw his bonded glaive lurking just behind it. Aaliyah had her flashing metal discs ready, as well.
For all their wariness, the vigilum made their way to the other end of the hall without incident, where the stairs led up to the fifth floor and a most peculiar room.
Filled with comfortable chairs and couches, it took up the full width of the townhouse and could have passed for a large lounge. A broad desk was set beside the only door in the room, which stood ajar directly across from the stairs. The desk gave the room the air of a lobby or, perhaps more accurately, a checkpoint.
More telling than the layout, however, were two gleaming suits of armor which lay, scattered and mangled, on the floor near the desk. He wouldn’t know until he got closer, but Eresthanon suspected they were golems or some other form of automata. The very functional melee weapons on the ground near them made that a near certainty.
With a few simple gestures, Aaliyah silently indicated Eresthanon should wait on the stairs while she scouted the room. She dropped her marble on the ground — it was some kind of aetheric sensor, unless Eresthanon was much mistaken — and it rolled down the stairs in near-silence, then she proceeded into the antechamber of the fifth floor.
Despite the size of the room, it only took Aaliyah about a minute to make a complete circuit of the area. When she came back to the stairs, she crouched beside Eresthanon and spoke in a low tone, meant not to carry.
“Delman was right, there’s a rat’s nest of hallways back there. I could tell with just a peek through the door.”
“There is powerful magic beyond,” Eresthanon said. “I can sense it from here, though it’s difficult to discern the nature. I would like to stop a moment before we press on to examine those suits of armor and the desk, if that would be alright.”
With no objection from his ranking officer, they crossed the room and paused near the desk, allowing Eresthanon to confirm some of his preliminary observations. The suits of armor were, indeed, constructs of some sort, and quite advanced ones at that.
The runework inside the damaged pieces revealed core enchantments that were old. Quite old. They had been altered and upgraded in the centuries since, but Eresthanon suspected the fundamental spellforms — and likely the armor itself — had been forged from the designs of the early architects of the so-called Golden Age of Golemancy.
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If this chantry belonged to some off-shoot of one of those old orders, it would go a long way to explaining their resources as well as their secrecy; many of those who had suffered at the unfeeling hands of those early constructs had long memories and, for some, vengeance was a time-honored institution.
Looked at in the light of this new information, it was somewhat more concerning the mysterious intruder had not only overcome several magi, but had just as handily dispatched two ancient and powerful war golems, and apparently been none the worse for wear from it.
There were not many Creaturae, in general, possessing that degree of both mystic and martial prowess. Exemplars and paragons could be found amongst any faction or peoples, of course, but for such an asset to come here and conduct so brazen a raid? It was more likely to be someone acting without direction or an organization who had this kind of strength to gamble.
“I believe the mage who performed the spell of sacrifice was seated here,” Eresthanon said, gesturing to the desk. “There are traces of movement that are slightly older than the trail leading onward.”
Aaliyah nodded. “And the suits of armor, they’re constructs of some kind, right?”
“Yes, very old, very powerful ones.”
“So this was the last line of defense, meaning the reason for the assault is likely hidden somewhere in the maze behind that door,” Aaliyah said, as much to herself as to her partner. “Let’s push on, but we’ll move as quietly as we can in case our doer’s still here.”
They passed through the final door, Aaliyah in the lead, and immediately felt a change in the world around them. At a questioning look from the Quaesitor, Eresthanon withdrew his phone and typed out his best guess as to why — they had entered into an area heavily modified by spatial magic and other enchantments. The effect was so pronounced even the spells Eresthanon had employed for tracking were hardly functioning.
To find their quarry, they were going to have to make their way blind; no easy task considering the top floor was a complicated maze of hallways and closed doors, with no markings and no discernible rhyme or reason.
Moving with stealth would have been ideal, but the best they could manage was a reasonable facsimile. Eresthanon was an elf, so he moved like a soft breeze and made barely a sound, but his partner was not. Aaliyah wasn’t timid by nature and her steps were rather heavy. She moved like infantry flanking an enemy position through a forest; hard to hear only because of the sounds of the living woods and the opposing soldiers.
They began their search, pausing briefly at each new intersection so Eresthanon could search for signs of recent movement that would register to his much-diminished tracking senses. Each minute that passed would make it harder still for him to spot signs of movement in the stifled corridors of this formidable sanctum.
Thankfully, neither their lack of real stealth nor the lack of a trail was much of a hindrance. Within a minute of their exploration beginning, they heard a voice speaking from somewhere not far off. The voice belonged to a man, Eresthanon thought, and seemed unconcerned about being overheard. In fact, from his tone it sounded like he was having a casual conversation with one or more other, unheard people.
The language being spoken wasn’t one Eresthanon knew, but it was vaguely familiar; he had heard it before, though he couldn’t identify it specifically. It had an air of pomposity to it, as if it were highly ceremonial and ritualized. There was a strange, staccato quality to the phrasing and a great deal of emphasis was put on the vowels of each syllable. It was a dreadfully inorganic tongue, as far as the elf was concerned, almost like dwarven but with none of the personality.
Aaliyah leaned over until her face was barely inches from Eresthanon’s. “Is that, like, Pig Latin or something?”
The voice switched to English before Eresthanon could think of how to answer that, which was fortunate as he was seriously considering whether it might, in fact, be some kind of joke language.
“Please accept my apologies,” the speaker said in a distinctly British accent. “The lack of nuance isn’t linguistically ideal for casual conversation. What I mean to say is that I have yet to ascertain what, precisely, the intruders were after or might have taken.”
After a pause, he continued. “I can confirm they ascended to and breached the highest floor which, as you know, imposes certain limitations on what I may glean without taking additional measures that require rather more time than I suspect is available.”
Another pause, longer this time, as the unknown speaker likely listened to additional, unheard voices. It gave the vigilum a chance to stalk the hallways in search of the conversation. They knew from the sound that they had closed some of the distance when the man began speaking once more.
“Our old associates should be downstairs for a while yet, sweeping and clearing and carrying on in their own fashion. Given the damage to the structure and the violence of the incursion, I estimate another ten to fifteen minutes before they reach the checkpoint, which should itself delay them significantly longer.”
The vigilum had drawn closer still, reaching a point where the unseen speaker could have been around the very next corner. It seemed clear this was a report on the outcome of the assault, but this secretive order was also aware the Vigiles were on the scene and had plans to take some investigative action on their own that they would rather not share with law enforcement.
The unknown magi’s cavalier attitude suggested he thought the intruder had left the premises — or didn’t care either way — yet he was not so informed as to be aware the door leading into the maze had been left open.
By unspoken agreement, Eresthanon and Aaliyah both lowered their stances and further slowed their steps. They were very close, now, and could come upon the speaker at any moment.
If the immediate threat had passed, it would be better for their own investigation to gather as much information as possible before announcing their presence. The speaker was unlikely to be the person responsible for the murders on the floors below, so they would lose little from monitoring him discreetly for a while.
Aaliyah quietly pulled out a pair of half moon reading glasses with darkly tinted lenses and set them on the end of her nose. Then, she withdrew a thin length of stiff cable from somewhere in her jacket, bent the end of it at a ninety degree angle, and began using it to peer around corners as they pursued the enigmatic speaker.
It was, Eresthanon reasoned, likely some sort of surveillance system used to peek around tight spaces without revealing oneself. A very clever piece of equipment, although Eresthanon wondered why they hadn’t used it to survey the rooms they’d needed to investigate earlier. He had several questions about some of their procedures, actually, but they could wait.
She gave him the thumbs after a moment, which he took to mean she had spotted the magi.
“I’m going to inspect the five high-priority vaults,” the British man said. “I shan’t have time to check the workshops or laboratories, and I’m afraid the library is right out. We’ll need a local who can interface with our former associates, as well; someone capable but unimportant. We wouldn’t want our associates forming any undesirable hypotheses or conclusions.”
A brief pause, then the voice began to move away from their position again. “Very good. I shall commence my inspection and report back with further information as soon as I’m able.”
There was no time to consider the implications of that last bit of conversation, but there was also no need at the moment. Following and observing this man for as long as possible was likely to yield more useful information for their investigation than anything short of tearing this chantry apart with a large and dedicated squad of highly skilled enchanters, smiths, and runewrights.
Aaliyah waved for Eresthanon to stay on her tail, then she stepped around the corner. Their pursuit continued, albeit with slightly-modified objectives and a much different target.