Since I was carrying the files, I decided to take the opportunity to look through them before Uncle Finneus. I flipped the first page, and aside from a complex magical diagram, everything else was in some strange language I had never seen before. I flipped through the rest of the pages and found that all of them were written in that strange language. I went on to check the memory crystals. Only to find them encrypted, all using the same language.

I handed the entire bundle to Uncle Finneus in disgust, "What even is all this?" I asked, pointing to the strange writing.

Uncle Finneus took the bundle of information from me, like a child receiving the first gift on his birthday. "It’s Pirthean. It took me ten years to learn the written language. And another five to learn the spoken one. The language itself is nowhere near as difficult as Dracion, it was just that hard to gather enough information to learn the language. They are just so secretive, burning all written communication. I had to sneak onto the Island of Pirth, just to steal books so I could practice.

Such a fascinating culture though. A bit barbaric at times, but who isn’t? I’ll warn you though, Bartholomew, if you ever find yourself fighting against a Pirthean magician, never show mercy. If given enough time, magicians of that sort can bring down kingdoms. Let alone, kill a naïve elf that does not have enough curse protections."

“Fair enough.” I said, “But what does the report say?”

Uncle Finneus, who had been leafing through the pages, eyed me, annoyed. "Bartholomew, have some patience. I am not a god who can pick up a book and instantly know all the information within."

I bit back the remark I had prepared and waited for him to look through it. After a few minutes of swiping through it, he said, "It seems to cover a few things. To start, Androll did an intelligent thing and reached out to another magician for help. They compared and contrasted the spell formations used by Mashda with those of traditional Pirthean dark arts. The conclusion was that while there are similarities, the core principles are vastly different. Mashda's techniques are more brute force and lack the finesse and subtlety of Pirthean magic. It’s like comparing a child’s scribbles to a master's workmanship. They both use ink, but the similarities end there."

He paused to flip to another section of the file and read through it. "There's also a detailed account of all the sightings and incidents connected to Mashda in Renfield. Androll's network did an impressive job cataloging every odd occurrence and sighting, including descriptions of the creatures that were seen. Some of these are rather disturbing."

Uncle Finneus frowned, his eyes scanning the pages. "Here's something interesting. They mention a series of underground tunnels beneath the city that Mashda might be using to move around unseen. It seems these tunnels have been out of use for a long time and are largely forgotten by the city's current inhabitants. They could provide an ideal way to transport whatever... things... he's creating without drawing attention."

He closed the file and looked at me. "This is a good start, Bartholomew. We have a better understanding of what we're dealing with now. Mashda's actions are not just a threat to the people he's targeting but a violation of magical ethics on so many levels. We'll need to tread carefully. Our next step is to compare this information with what Garnachi's men have gathered and see if we can find any overlap or useful leads."

The rest of the train ride was spent in silence as Uncle Finneus delved further into the files, occasionally muttering to himself. I, on the other hand, tried to take a nap, though the thoughts of what kind of creatures Mashda had been creating kept me awake.

When we finally arrived back in Glueburn, it was late. The streets were quiet as we made our way back to Uncle Finneus's home. The night air was cool, and the sky was clear, filled with stars. Despite the urgency of our mission, I couldn't help but feel a moment of peace in the stillness of the dark. Such things are always too short-lived.

"Drip, drip, drip," went the droplets as they fell from the stalactites above onto the cave floor below. "Klomp, klomp, klomp," went my shoes with every step as I walked down the tunnel behind my uncle. I couldn't help myself; I kept glancing back at the abomination Uncle Finneus had just killed. It was like a creature out of a nightmare. I had heard plenty about them but seeing them up close was far different. The swamp creature's mix was disgusting to look at, but it was disgusting in a way that made you want to look more.

"Uncle Finneus," I whispered, "since we don't know how many of these creatures are wandering around these tunnels, couldn't we just wait until Garnachi and his men arrive?"

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Uncle Finneus chuckled, which sounded ominous. He had yet to completely change back into elven form. "Did you forget what I said on the train? Garnachi isn't coming this way. And it appears I have yet to wean you from your weak elven nature. Haven't you learned from your histories how your ancestors traveled the world much like the fae? They sought out adventures and curiosities wherever they went. Oh, how they would shake their heads to see how 'civilized' their descendants have become."

I shook my head. "Uncle Finneus, there are only a few recorded books from that era. It was so long ago. Arguing that humans should go back to living in caves and drawing stick figures, or that dwarves should return below the earth's crust, is like saying we should regress to a primitive state. You're talking about a time when the races that wander the earth now hadn't even become multicellular."

Uncle Finneus reached out with a finger and touched my chest. "And yet the heart that beats within you is the same one that beat in the chest of Elepsis the Hunter. It marches to the same drum as Alverdune the Conqueror. You are not so far gone that you have become another creature. It's just that the elves in that horrible forest have started seeing passiveness as the highest principle of civilization. Such passiveness destroys the spirit. Within elven nature lies the dream to run wild through the trees. A need for freedom and adventure lies deep within each of our souls. Passiveness has no place in our culture."

I sighed. "I take it we will not be waiting for anyone to come help."

Uncle Finneus chuckled and moved further down into the tunnel.

We continued down the tunnels for about ten minutes without encountering any other monsters. The only sound to keep me company was my boots clacking on the clay floor. As usual, Uncle Finneus made no noise. It was like walking with a ghost, leaving me the only one to alert creatures or sentries of our presence. I tried to copy how he walked, but it just made my footsteps louder.

"Do you think it's another of those cursed creatures moving in this area?" asked a voice ahead of us.

"I'm not sure, it sounds like it's walking on two legs. Do you know if any of the creatures only walked on legs?" asked another voice.

I started to stop walking as I realized they were talking about me. But Uncle Finneus grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. At the same time, he drew his knife and stabbed up into the globe of light I had created. The light blinked out, and now in pitch darkness, Uncle Finneus continued pulling me along.

A moment later, it felt like we were taking a turn down the corridor. My suspicion turned into reality, as the darkness gave way to torchlight.

"Get ready, Artis. It sounds like it's moving right for us. What is it, the fourth one tonight?" came a voice.

"Whatever it is, I'm tired of fighting these creepy things," said the other voice. "Sounds like it's stopped. Do you see it yet?"

Uncle Finneus, who had bade me stop, leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You take the one on the right, I'll take the one on the left. Try to make it as quick as possible. We've just reached the outskirts, so who knows how many sentries are out there."

Without waiting for my reply, he moved down the corridor, picking up a rock as he went. I raced after him, trying to decide which spell I should use first.

"It's coming!" cried the voice of Artis.

As soon as the two Narjee guards came into sight, I threw a fireball at the one on the right. I had hoped that Uncle Finneus would beat me in attacking and cause enough of a distraction that the guard would be caught by surprise.

Instead, the fireball was pushed aside by a Narjee war shield. I glanced around to find that Uncle Finneus was nowhere in sight, while both guards cursed at me and charged forward. I attacked again, this time sending my fire into the ground to explode upward under the men's feet.

I hurried my fire along, but when the flame shot up into the air, both Narjee warriors threw themselves out of the way. The man to my right somersaulted back to his feet and continued charging forward, while the man to my left didn't have to stand back up, as Uncle Finneus had already slashed his throat with his cane in mid-air.

Before I had time to cast another spell through my staff, the Narjee warrior was upon me, swinging his sword in an arc to lop off my head. I brought my staff up to defend and managed to catch the blow. But the force behind it threw me off balance. The man pressed his advantage, attacking with more ferocity with every swing, forcing me into ever more desperate parries.

Frustrated with the situation and knowing that if nothing changed it would end there for me, I sucked in a deep breath and spat fire into the man's face. He somehow managed to sidestep most of the flame even at that distance, but I had momentarily blinded him. Either way, I dodged a wild slash and brought my staff up, then smashed it down into his skull. Once, twice, thrice, just to be sure.

I took a second to catch my breath before looking over at Uncle Finneus. My uncle waved at me from the boulder he was seated on with a cheery grin, offering a silent clap for my martial prowess. "You did well, Bartholomew. I cannot but remind you to keep things simple. It takes longer for fire to travel underground than through the air. You should have tried spears instead. That would have been quicker, and it would have slowed their charge. As a fire mage, it's always best to keep distance if you can. Especially when you are lacking some of the more technical qualities of a close-quarters fighter."

"Okay, Uncle Finneus," I replied, still taking in gulps of air, "I was just trying to get past his shield."

Uncle Finneus nodded. "I understand but remember not to hyper-fixate on a specific weapon, or tactic the enemy is using. It will throw off your own rhythm. Instead, pay attention to the goal of your opponent's movements. That way you can recognize and react quickly. Just treat their weapon as an extension of their body. If you can burn through their weapon, you can burn through their body. End of battle."

Uncle Finneus nodded his head as if that settled the matter. He slid off the boulder he had been sitting on and started to walk down the tunnel once again, while I hurried to catch up.

Over the last months, I’d learned a bit about my uncle's eccentricities and could for the most part follow what he was saying. In this instance, what he said seemed scattered and overexcited. Plus, he was treating me like a child. I had just killed an elite human warrior with my own hands. Yet here he was lecturing me in a way opposite to what my teachers back at home had told me. And my teachers were above reproach.