Chapter 27:

Hledola

*

Sedder sat below decks as the Care­ful set sail for Hledola, as he tended to do to avoid having to look at all that water out there. At least the steam­ship didn’t rock around as much as human sailing ships did, even if they were now down one Water Mage. Still, it was a long, long jour­ney to the other side of the world across the Open Sea.

They arrived at Hledola, hiding in the water near the port and observing the place. It was a vast city, one Sedder was sur­prised to see in this time period, al­most rivalling Scalyr. Con­sidering it was bounded on three sides by water, that was prob­ably the source of most of their food. Still, that left him ques­tioning: how did they support this many people with their primitive magic and technology? Was more than just the Empire lost when monsters wiped this place from the map?

“So, how are going to do this?” Keolah asked. “What sort of intel do we have on this place?”

“They hate wild folk,” Harmony said.

“That’s prob­ably a given no matter which city in Albrynnia you’re talking about,” Amanda said dryly. “We will prob­ably have to resort to violence.”

“Why are you so eager to resort to violence?” Kithere won­dered.

“Because I know Hledola,” Amanda said. “They won’t respect any­thing else.”

“I’m not sure that I buy that,” Kithere said.

“Look, we can try things your way, if you have a better plan, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when things inevitably turn sour.”

“We can’t just steal the books,” Keolah said. “Remember what happened when some­one tried to take one of the Astanic books from me?”

“Would the Albrynnians have put curses on their books quite that dire?” Kithere asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Amanda said.

“I really doubt that,” Harmony said.

“I’m still not sure I want to risk triggering them, though,” Keolah said.

“Agreed,” Amanda said. “We’ll need to kill who­ever might ‘own’ the books.”

Keolah sighed. “If that’s really what’s necessary.”

“To be fair, from your perspective, they’re already long dead any­way,” Amanda said.

“Do you know where their lib­rary might be located?” Sedder asked.

“Probably in the middle of town,” Amanda said.

“Probably,” Sedder repeated. “We’re going to need better intel than ‘prob­ably’.”

“Right, first order of business, find the lib­rary,” Keolah said.

“We won’t even have such an easy time just strolling through the streets here, either,” Amanda said. “In a city this size, there’s al­most cer­tainly going to be some­one who can see through Sedder’s illusions. And I don’t see either of my cousins volun­teering for this.”

Harmony snorted softly. “Like the Abyss I’m going to be setting hoof or paw in that place.”

“Yes, spirits for­bid you’d have to look like a human to go in there,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes.

Sedder had been working on his ability to create undet­ectable illusions whenever he got the chance, and con­sidering he had plenty of time to do that aboard ship, he thought he was getting pretty good at it. He’d asked Keolah to help, and al­though she was hardly an unbiased source, con­sidering she was an in­born Seeker, she could at least tell when they were getting harder to det­ect. A non-in­born Seeker might not even be able to spot any­thing at all, at this point. And an in­born one, well, maybe he could slip by them if they weren’t dir­ectly looking at him.

“Alright, let’s get together a party to get into Hledola,” Keolah said. “Sedder and I are necessary. Who else is coming?”

“You’re not leaving me behind,” Haw­thorne said. “Besides, you might need my wards or my ability to break things.”

“I’d prob­ably be more of a liability than a help here,” Amanda said. “Some­one might recog­nize my aura even if my features are hidden behind an illusion.”

Keolah hadn’t really thought Amanda’s aura was that distinctive, just the typical green of an Earth Mage, but now that she thought about it, it was a lot more ordered than normal. While most Earth Mages she’d known had auras that felt organic, like growing leaves and plants, Amanda’s was rigid, metallic, with crossbars and interlaced lines. Maybe this was more normal for a dwarven Earth Mage, but it was clearly distinct from the elves she’d seen.

“I’ll go,” Silver said.

“Alright,” Keolah said. “Let’s not have too many people running around drawing atten­tion. We’ll call in backup if needed.”

“Luck of the Trick­ster be with you,” Delven said.

They went ashore via a con­cealed make­shift dock. Sardill didn’t seem willing to join them, but at least he made sure that their ship wasn’t dis­covered, which was good enough, really. Sedder appeared like he was fully human again, covered in an illusion that made him seem like he had skin the color of pale peaches rather than the usual plums.

Hledola was much like Sheen­vale in some ways, and vastly diff­erent in others. The walls were still made of stone, and the flags that fluttered in the cloudy skies were cyan and blue. The east-facing walls were ab­solutely massive, how­ever. It’s like they weren’t all that concerned about any­one coming by sea, but were adamant in keeping out any attackers coming by land. Fortunately, they’d been able to slip into the city by placing their magic dock at the end of an empty real one. Sedder kept them invis­ible until they reached an alley out of sight, and no one would be any the wiser about them sneaking in.

“Alright, good, we’re in,” Keolah said. “Stay alert, every­one. No one’s going to be looking spec­ifically for us, and let’s try to keep it that way. What’s the best way to find a lib­rary in a city, any­way?”

“Ask for dir­ec­tions?” Silver sug­gested helpfully.

“Oh, that’s sure going to be inconspicuous,” Haw­thorne said.

“It prob­ably won’t be so bad,” Sedder said. “It’s a big place. People must get lost in here all the time.”

“And if that fails?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Then we dis­appear, become some­one else, and try some­thing else,” Sedder said. “Come on, that looks like a fish market up ahead.”

Sedder couldn’t actually read any of the street signs, but it was difficult to mis­take a sign depicting a fish for any­thing but a place where fish were sold. He pushed open the door and headed inside. The building was larger and more open than he’d ex­pected, full of rows upon rows of fish laid out on snow. It had been chilly enough out­side in the streets, but it was positively frigid in here.

“Looking for some fish?” bellowed a large man al­most as pale as snow him­self. “We got a batch of fresh-caught cod in today.”

“It looks lovely,” Sedder said. “But I’m afraid we’re just looking for dir­ec­tions. I think we took a wrong turn some­where.” He chuckled.

“You take a wrong turn any­where in this city and you even­tually wind up at the docks or the wall, am I right?” the fish­monger guffawed. “What were you actually try­ing to find?”

“The lib­rary,” Sedder said. “Did I take the wrong side street off from the plaza? Hmm.”

“Ah, yeah, that you did,” the fish­monger said. “Just head back out the doors you came in and turn right, and then keep going until you see the statue of the man with the pitchfork. What you’re looking for is off of the Avenue of the Reflective moun­tains. That’s two streets to the right of this one, the one dir­ectly behind the statue. The building you want will be on the left. There’ll be a sign with a book on it. You can’t miss it.”

“I hate when people tell me I can’t miss some­thing,” Keolah said with a grin. “I always wind up missing it.”

The fish­monger chortled. “Well, if you manage to miss it and find your way back here, you’ve got to buy a fish before you get more dir­ec­tions out of me.”

Sedder chuckled. “Thanks.”

The four of them headed out­side again and made their way down the street following the fish­monger’s dir­ec­tions, and found the lib­rary in ques­tion in due order. Sure enough, a swinging sign depicting an open book hung next to the double doors, and three wide stone steps led up to the en­trance. There were no windows on the ground floor, but the upper storeys boasted narrow windows to allow sun­light to stream in.

“Looks like this is it,” Sedder said. “Should we get more hands to carry the books out?”

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with first,” Keolah said.

No one immediately stopped them as they entered the lib­rary. This only made Sedder all the more wary. The most dan­gerous situations were often the ones that seemed innocuous at first, where every­thing going smoothly could quickly turn into the shit hitting the fan. They got up to the deserted third floor, and Keolah pointed the way to the heaviest con­centration of mana in the building.

“Warded,” Keolah said quietly.

“Just like the one in Kebab-de-Garateck?” Haw­thorne said. “Alright, I’ll see about breaking in.”

A robed woman came up behind them and accosted them. “What are you doing up here?” she demanded. “Visitors aren’t allowed past the first floor.”

“Terribly sorry,” Keolah said quickly. “We didn’t mean to intrude. I’m afraid I didn’t see it posted any­where.”

The woman pointed to a sign next to her that Sedder couldn’t read. “Are you blind? It’s right in front of your nose!”

“Are you the owner of this lib­rary and the books in it?” Keolah asked.

“Yes, that’s me. Lilian Hrogansdottir.”

Keolah hesitated. Sedder understood. She’d never killed any­one before. She was young and naive, and even if she fully realized that this was necessary, still she hesitated. Sedder would hope that she wouldn’t hesitate if it were her life or the lives of her friends on the line, but he’d seen people do that very thing, much to their detriment.

Sedder wasn’t about to take that chance. He stepped away from the illusion of him­self and invisibly crept up behind Lilian. He reached down and pulled out the crys­tal dagger hidden in his boot. One thought gave him pause, and that was that murdering the owner of the books and then taking them might be con­sidered ‘stealing’ them from the perspective of their enchant­ments. There was no telling how they might have been set up. No help for it. He just wouldn’t be the one to touch them. In one swift motion, he grabbed Lilian around the waist from behind and slid the knife into her ribcage. The woman cried out, but no one would hear through his sound-ward.

“Shit,” Keolah muttered as Sedder lowered the body to the ground.

“Let’s get the books,” Silver said, not missing a beat even though both girls were still staring at the body.

Sedder wiped off his dagger and put it away, then double-checked his illusions to make sure they wouldn’t be dis­turbed. If no­body was supposed to be up on the third floor any­way, it wouldn’t be a prob­lem, but he made sure to make the body invis­ible and put up a screen behind them just to be sure.

“Right,” Haw­thorne said after a moment. “The books.” She took a deep breath and turned to the door. “This will just take a moment.”

She unsheathed her sword, not that it was actually necessary to use Zarnith’s mana, and walked up to the door. Sedder really hoped that this was the right room, but then, even if it wasn’t, the most heavily warded room in this part of town prob­ably at least had some­thing ­in­ter­esting inside of it. After several minutes of intense con­centration, the door snapped open with an audible crack.

“Those are the ones,” Keolah said, stepping into the room.

“I’m going to stay out here for the moment,” Sedder said. “It might be best if I don’t touch them.”

He had blood on his hands that Keolah’s eyes kept falling toward every time she looked at him. Self-con­sciously, Sedder wiped them off on Lilian’s robes.

“Claim the books,” Silver told Keolah.

“That’s what we were going to do, yes,” Keolah said.

“It might help to do so verbally,” Silver said.

“Okay then,” Keolah said. “If you say so.” She cleared her throat. “I, Keolah Kedaire, hereby claim these books as my own.” She blinked. “Well. I guess that did do some­thing. I wouldn’t have even noticed it if I weren’t paying atten­tion. It wasn’t even really mana, just… I don’t know.”

“Old magic,” Silver supplied.

“At any rate,” Keolah said. “I hereby give you three permission to do as you like with these books, as well as those on the steam­ship Care­ful.”

“Hope­fully that will be suff­ic­ient,” Silver said.

“I think so,” Keolah said. “At least, that’s the impression I get? I’m not sure the vocalization was really necessary, so much as the intention? I know how Talents work. I don’t know where to begin in ex­plaining this ‘old magic’.”

“No one used Talents before the League of Wizards,” Silver said.

“Sedder, come help us pack these up, before some­one notices we’re here,” Haw­thorne said, pulling out books from the shelves.

“You don’t think they’ll kill me because I murdered their previous owner?” Sedder asked.

Haw­thorne rolled her eyes and dumped a stack of books in his arms. “No, I do not.”

Sedder sighed in exasperation. “Your concern for my well-being is staggering.” He put the books into his pack.

It was difficult for the four of them to get all the books, and Haw­thorne wound up having to carry half of them her­self with the assistance of Wind Magic to reduce their weight. Sedder hoped that they didn’t run into more trouble on the way out, and adjusted the illusions covering them to com­pletely con­ceal the fact that they were carrying books at all.

“Is that all of them?” Sedder asked.

Keolah nodded. “Looks like it.” She spared an­other long look at the cadaver laying on the ground before turning away and heading for the stairs.

They made their way down the city streets with as much haste as they could with­out drawing atten­tion to them­selves. It looked like they were going to be able to make it out of here again, when a watch­woman looked dir­ectly at them.

“Seeker,” Keolah hissed.

“Monsters!” the watcher yelled. “Guards! Dispel! They’re using illusions to sneak into the city.”

“Abyss,” Haw­thorne uttered as their illusions un­raveled around them. She drew her sword. “Wards up!”

“Can we make it to the ship?” Keolah asked. “How far is it?”

“At least an­other few blocks,” Silver said.

“We’re not going to be moving very fast carrying all these books,” Sedder said. “We need backup.”

“On it,” Keolah said. She raised a hand to the sky and let out a bolt of fire, which shot into the air and ex­ploded into a shower of sparks. “That should get their atten­tion.”

“If it’s a fight these guards are looking for, let’s give them one,” Haw­thorne said.

Sedder scowled. He hated dealing with Seekers. He cast an illusion at the watcher to cover her face in shadows. For a normal per­son, this would blind them, but for a Seeker, he had to put every bit of skill he’d learned with creating undet­ectable illusions into it. The watcher cried out in sur­prise and rubbed her eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he could main­tain the blinding spell, but it was at least enough to get her eyes off of them for the moment.

Haw­thorne charged into the middle of a squad of guards, swinging her sword and letting her wards deflect attacks. Most of these people weren’t mages, and Sedder hoped that any combat mages in the vicinity stayed out of this until they were safely aboard ship again. A spike of ice descended from above and shattered against Haw­thorne’s shields. So much for hoping there weren’t any combat mages nearby. Sedder spotted the Frost Mage on a balcony, preparing to cast an­other spell.

“Keolah!” Sedder called out, pointing to the attacker.

Keolah turned and sent a bolt of flames toward the Frost Mage. He didn’t have room to dodge. He let out a scream as his robes caught fire and burned his skin, and frantically tried to channel Frost Magic onto him­self to put out the flames. Sedder had to be gratified that when her life was on the line, Keolah hadn’t hesitated, even if she was wincing at the sound of the man’s screams.

“I’ll take care of it,” Silver said, raising one hand to shoot a light­ning bolt at the Frost Mage. Part of it forked and destroyed the balcony’s railing, but it took out the Frost Mage in the process. The charred body tumbled down into the streets below.

A resounding roar echoed from the dir­ec­tion of the docks, and an enormous creature bounded toward the party. Guards scattered before it as its swept three heads around, biting at them. One head was a lion, one a dragon, and one a goat for some reason. That could only be Harmony. Behind her stomped a golem made of cobblestones, punching any guards that came close. A harpy swooped in and clawed at the guards’ faces.

A crack like thun­der split the air, and a guard dropped dead. Sedder would have thought it a fire­arm if it hadn’t been rapidly followed by five other shots. But when he got a clear view and looked over, Amanda stood in the center of the street, wielding a gun smaller than any he’d seen before. By­standers fled in terror. The guards scattered, some of them try­ing to drag their wounded to safe­ty.

“Let’s get out of here!” Keolah yelled, taking the oppor­tunity to make a break for the docks.

“I’ll reload and cover you,” Amanda said.

The guards, with their bronze swords and longbows, had no idea what fire­arms were. The watcher had recovered from the blind­ness spell, but after having wit­nessed her guards struck down by some­thing that clearly wasn’t magic, was quick to call for them to fall back and for all civilians to evacuate the area.

Two Light­ning Mages from opposite sides of the street attacked them from roof­tops as they app­roached the docks. Amanda paused to pick them off one by one with her handgun with­out even batting an eye. Sedder had originally thought Amanda was the least scary of the three ancients, but he was starting to revise that assessment. The woman was cold.

The party raced down the dock to where the ship lay hidden, Harmony pulling up the rear, and hardly paused long enough to let her board before casting off. The gnomes had been prepared in case of needing to leave town quickly, but now that they were gone, there wasn’t any­thing in this time that could catch them short of magic.

*

Once Keolah caught her breath, she took the books down to the lib­rary and deposited them there with the others. The ship’s cabin wasn’t really intended to be a lib­rary, but it got the job done in holding them, at least. When they got back to Torn Elkandu, they could join the Astanic and Mibian books at the School of Thought. But Keolah wasn’t sure that she liked the price tag this set of books had come with.

“You got them,” Amanda said. “At least you got your hands on them before running into trouble.”

“Amanda,” Keolah said, sighing and slumping against the floor. “People died for these books.”

“People who weren’t us,” Amanda said.

“They were defending their city,” Keolah said.

“Let’s not pretend they were in any way innocent,” Amanda said. “They attacked you because they were racist bas­tards.”

“People died for the sake of us com­pleting our book collection,” Keolah said glumly.

Sardill snorted. “Be assured that should you con­tinue on your current course, you will kill for far more petty reasons than this.”

Keolah glared at him. “Is that supposed to be an assurance or a warning?”

“Do you feel guilty about what happened here today?” Sardill asked.

“Yes, ab­solutely!” Keolah rep­lied. “Sardill, you were involved in a number of bloody wars. Don’t you ever feel guilty about all the death and destruction you’ve caused?”

Sardill lowered his face. “Yes. Every day.”

Keolah looked away. That hadn’t been an answer she was ex­pecting. “But you still believe it was necessary? You’d still do it all over again?”

“You need not guess at my men­tal state,” Sardill said. “Nor presume that I am so callous as you might believe, like my cousin here is.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, but didn’t deign to respond to that.

Keolah sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to assume. I just have to won­der, how do you deal with it? How can you justify it to your­self?”

“I have long since lost count of how many I have seen perish,” Sardill said. “No one can ever be on the same side. No one can agree on every­thing. To aid one is to hinder an­other. To save one is to kill an­other. Inac­tion is still an ac­tion. If I have caused suffering, it is because I believed that the alter­native was worse.”

“I see,” Keolah said, more gently this time. “I guess I can under­stand that, then.”

Sardill nodded tersely. “Do not think ill of me with­out knowing the full story or the reasons behind it.”

“I’d argue with you, but I don’t care to start an argument that ends in the ship being blown up,” Amanda said. “Let’s just worry about learning Tinean and getting back to when we started from.” She turned on her heel and left the cabin.

“It’s difficult to ­imag­ine how much his­tory is behind that all,” Keolah said quietly.

Sardill chuckled. “His­tory is not yet done. The future is not yet written. You will make your own his­tory. You already are.”

“That’s a funny thing to say when we’re, what, three thousand years in the past?” Keolah said.

“Whenever we are is the present,” Sardill said. “If we cannot return to the time where we began, we can still access Torn Elkandu from any period or time­line we wind up in.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Keolah said. “But what about the time­line we originated from?”

“Would you miss it?” Sardill asked.

“Well… no, not really,” Keolah said. “The only thing I had there that isn’t with us here is my mother. But I’d still rather try to return to it, regard­less.”

“As you will,” Sardill said. “I am merely warning you again that we may not be able to return to it, but that such a situation will not impede what we are attemp­ting to do.”

“Understood,” Keolah said.