In the library, in the tomb of a holy man, Dovhran Sommar stood with a mage’s spell catalyst in his hand and spoke words of an arcane pattern. In the catalyst, a clear glass sphere, a needle spun wildly in a clear fluid as thought it were being dragged about by a hundred strong magnets. And then it stopped. Not gradually as it had done when Flip had cast the same spell. But as soon as Dovhran had uttered the last of the spell’s incantation, it stuck in mid-air as though the very pole of the earth had magnetized it. And in similar fashion, it pointed nearly directly below the changeling’s feet.

Flip looked down at the floor just to be sure there wasn’t a book on the ground they had all missed, but the brick cobblestone floor was barren. “That is a problem, Dovhran.”

“We should check to see if there is a loose stone, perhaps Gmid has stowed away the journal in a hidden compartment.” Selian, in a very practical manner began feeling the floor with her hands.

“I can feel where it is… it’s… more than ten feet down. Closer to fifty or more. So unless you can see where he might have hidden a trap door or secret staircase, I don’t think we’re going to find what we need in this room.” Dovhran sighed and let the spell fade.

The needle began to swirl listlessly through its container, jostling as Dovhran returned the item to the wizard.

“There was a second door after the fire room, yes?” Dovhran asked with a sigh. “We should check it out, but maybe we should look for something to help us in here so we don’t have to worry about the fire again.”

“I saw spell scrolls on a shelf near the glass case. You said you could use those, right?” Selian had gotten up from the floor, somewhat embarrassed. “I think we should avoid forcing Faengil to cast too many spells. If he collapses again in a worse situation we might not make it out again.”

“I can use simple scrolls…” Dovhran began, but hesitated. “But I don’t think we’ll find many within my range here.”

“We should rest.” Flip returned to his seat and reclined as much as the wooden chair would allow him. “Just a few minutes… or long enough for me to keep reading this page.”

“I agree.” Selian nodded. “For different reasons, of course. But we need to clear our heads.”

Dovhran shrugged, as if to say do what you want. “I’ll find a spell scroll for some sort of physical ward then.”

With that, Selian sat down for what felt like the first time in days. Within minutes the elf’s eyes were closed and she was unconscious. Flip stayed true to his word and continued to read, taking notes the whole time. The book in particular that had garnered the wizard’s interest the The Treatise of the Stars, which was interesting because of the way it presented magic and the fundamentals of casting spells; it did not line up with the way that Flip had learned from his uncle’s books. The difference in essential aspects of spell casting gave Flip an entirely new outlook on his abilities, and inspiration.

“Faengil, is this a warding spell or an invisible force spell?” Dovhran held out a scroll from a stack in his arms he had accumulated from the shelves.

“Give it here…” Flip accepted the scroll and unfurled it before announcing casually, “no… this is a scroll of disintegrating. The exact opposite of what you want.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“The opposite of what I want right now… but I’m guessing this one is more in line with what we need.”

Dovhran let one of the scrolls from the top of his stack slide onto the desk in front of Flip while he retrieved the one he had offered first with one of the hands buried under the rest of the scrolls.

“Yes, this is a warding wall.” Flip stopped halfway through examining the spell. “But it is more complicated than the searching spell I made you use. Can you actually understand this?”

Dovhran paused and looked over Flip’s shoulder as if he hadn’t read the scroll already. “Most of it. The parts that matter at least.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine.” Flip nodded in genuine approval. “Most of the material on the scroll corresponds to the materials and minutiae, very little is involved in the nitty gritty art of casting the spell. Even a fool could cast most spells with a scroll.”

“Wait.” Dovhran glared hard at Flip as he puzzled through what the wizard had said. “You’re saying I’m less than a fool.”

“I may be a strange old man, Dovhran, but I am no stranger to figure of speech.”

At that moment, despite there not being anything loud or reasonable to shake Selian awake, the elf jolted upright in the chair she’d been sprawled out on with her eyes wide.

“Bad dream?” Dovhran looked torn between teasing and concern.

Selian seemed afraid for a moment before her normal calm returned. “No… no. It-it happens sometimes when I dream about being at sea and wake up on land.”

“I also wake suddenly in the night on occasion.” Flip nodded in understanding and placed a comforting hand on the elf’s shoulder.

“Because of disorientation?” Dovhran was more hesitant to ask about Flip’s personal life and experiences.

“Oh, no. Demons.” Flip continued to nod casually. “Mostly demons and their incessant whispering. And nightmares of death and fire.”

“You disturb me, Faengil.” Selian frowned and gently removed the wizard’s hand from her shoulder. “Have we waited long enough to move on? Or have I woken up too soon?”

Dovhran shrugged. “I would like to find a way to carry all these scrolls a little easier, but apart from that, yes. It’s a shame we can’t use your hatch anymore.”

“I would demolish this whole tomb for a good cup of tea.” Flip sighed. “Disintegrate the whole structure on top of all of us in the process too.”

Ignoring Flip’s comment the best she could, Selian slipped her pack off an arm and dropped it on the table they had gathered around. “I have some extra space for a few you don’t plan on using any time soon.”

Selian’s pack, as she revealed it, was oddly empty. There were a few pouches, some greatly compacted clothing, and not much else. Dovhran began to fill the space greedily with his collection of scrolls, leaving out only the warding wall spell. The elf did not seem bothered by the intrusion into her space; though she was not excited by the readiness at which Dovhran took advantage of the offer.

“Faengil? Any books you want to take?” The elf’s offer was primarily rooted in fairness, and she looked relieved when the wizard shook his head.

“I will take this one with me, but I can carry a simple book.” Flip hefted the large tome as he spoke and let it rattle the table when he dropped it back down.

With that, Selian readjusted her pack and stood. But no one moved from the table. They had all decided to move on, they had all taken the time to rest in their own ways, but none of them moved away from it. Instead they stared emptily at each other, each waiting for one of the other to make the first move. And eventually it did happen. Dovhran took a deep breath, which let Flip feel comfortable leaning forward slightly, which prompted Selian to turn towards the door. And with a continuing series of small and uncertain movements, the group gradually found their way to the door. Dovhran left first, scroll in hand, then Selian, and Flip followed last.

The wizard, at the threshold of the library, looked back to the glass case where another of his order was interred. And though the other wizard was dead, and he hardly knew his name, Flip offered an awkward head bowing of respect. He felt an odd kinship with Gmid. Perhaps it was just the nature of wizards, or humans that had come to know the secrets of arcana, but there was a longing to be understood and with peers in Flip that he had never felt before. He thought, perhaps, that in another life, he and Gmid might have gotten along quite well and made spectacular magic together. But he was dead. And Flip feared he would meet that older wizard sooner rather than later.