A Second Mystery

With a gasp, I awoke, finding myself half aroused by the memory and half disgusted with my old, cringe personality. It was difficult to believe that I had experienced any intimacy at that point in my life with the cheesy one-liners I had used. The only thing more embarrassing than the memory of talking like an edgy bad-boy was acting like it was sexy. As though any girl my age would have liked that.

Slowly shifting, I rubbed at my aching head and looked around me at the cramped space I found myself in. We were already in the carriage, having departed the Thantossa Manor long enough ago that it was clear we were somewhere far outside Goodshore. As I slowly stirred from my slumped posture against the window, I glanced out at the world that raced by in a blur.

“What happened?” I asked, adjusting myself to sit up straight. "How did I—"

“Oh, hey sleepy head,” Rionriv responded from the seat across from me. “What happened? You happened. I came in to see how you were doing, and then you knocked yourself unconscious on that damn shelf.”

“Don't feel bad, Iz,” Aesandoral joined in from her seat beside Rionriv. “I’ve done it before. It’s a low shelf, and I’ve told them to raise it, but they won’t. Glad you’re back though. You were out cold.”

“How long has it been?”

“Oh, only like two or three hours,” Rionriv responded as she handed over the scroll case that Xavier had given me. “Care to explain this message from Mama Thia?”

"Oh, uhh—" I thought of the message from Xavier and how I had been meant to keep it secret from the triop.

Taking hold of the case, I glanced between my companions and the scroll tube.

Sorry, Oracle...I've got a promise to keep. I said I'd keep no more secrets and I aim to honour that promise.

With a twist, I opened the top, revealing both the parchment and ring to the group before explaining the interaction I had experienced with Xavier. After a moment bringing them up to speed, the fun game of figuring out who I had angered enough to execute me began. Considering that I had only begun to think of it before my self-imposed blackout, I was glad to have my companions to assist. So, tossing around a few ideas of who may be hunting me down, we only managed to add Jack Atlas to the list. This was mainly because most of the people I had wronged were already dead or of no real threat to me, like the thug in Fearnemyst. That said, we discussed the possibility of the escaped Fliant being the loose thread. Though, being cut off from its home realm, I doubted that it could have regrouped so quickly.

As the conversation began to lull, Sharzin, who had taken the scroll tube to examine more closely, reached into it. A moment later, her small hands withdrew something that I had not seen in my first pass. It was yet another piece of parchment, though this one as thin as tissue paper and covered in an intricate design.

"What's this?" Sharzin asked, holding the paper up before me. "You didn't mention it."

"I didn't see it," I responded while slowly extending my hand to take hold of the sheet. "What is it?"

But lightning-fast reflexes intercepted me, snatching the paper from Sharzin before she could hand it over.

"It's a rune," Rionriv spoke up, examining the sheet in her hands. "Transcribed onto a remarkably thin but amazingly durable parchment. And would you look at this transcription? I've never seen a spell this complicated before! It must be Papa Jorian's work..."

Curious to examine it, I watched as Sharzin shimmied her way between Aesandoral and Rionriv, nearly pushing the archer from her seat. And as the elf moved, now sitting beside me and casting a longing glance my way, the two across from us began to dissect the spell. Not wanting to be left out, I listened in on the discussion even though I was incapable of following half of the arcano-technical jargon that the sorceress and genius spouted. 

"Look, this little bit here," Sharzin eventually exclaimed, showing the sheet to me. "It looks like a reverence node, indicating high-level holy magic."

"C-Cool?" I replied, looking between her and the spell blankly. "And that means..."

"It means," Rionriv huffed, snatching the parchment from Sharzin and once more dominating the examination. "That if you were better at your holy magic, you could use it."

"Okay, I get it, I'll try harder to learn magical theory now that I'm a student. But what does this spell do? Is it a healing spell or something?"

"That's what we've been saying. We're unsure exactly."

Rionriv began again to explain the design of the rune carefully drawn on the parchment. She broke down the various elements of the spell she understood, yet for every one there were at least twice as many components she didn't comprehend. But there was one thing she was sure of. And that was the fact that necromantic elements were present in several of the internal glyphs. As she pointed them out, she drew my attention to components of the sigil's overall design, explaining how they were unique in that they somehow tied into empowering the spell. 

"Ooh-Oooh!" Aesandoral gasped excitedly, eager to join the conversation. "I know that shape!"

Pointing to the paper, she tapped at a single glyph before pointing at several more. The elf beamed with pride as she turned from meeting her sister's gaze to matching mine. As she did, her infectious smile spread to me as I couldn't help but grin back at her excited expression.

"What do you see, Aes?" I asked softly, looking to where she pointed. "What is it?"

The reality was that I had initially missed what Aesandoral found. I had been too focused on the big picture and Rionriv's arcano-babble to notice the small details hidden in the image. Details much like when Sharzin hid dicks in the runic equation we once had her solve. But the minute Aesandoral drew my attention to the markings, I recognized them immediately. In fact, it became so obvious that I was surprised everyone else had missed it except her. 

"That's the symbol for one of the Goddesses: The Emerald Gale!" She exclaimed proudly, before pointing to another marking representing a different Goddess. "And right there, The Moonkissed Poet! There are lots of those symbols scattered around the image."

"Oh yeah, I guess those are, huh?" I replied, reaching over to rub at the top of Aesandoral's head. "Great catch, Aes! How did you notice those details?"

"I-I think it's because of the ability you shared with us when you joined our triop. I just looked at it, and, like, knew. There's no way I would have known it was some God-thing before! So, it's because of you, Iz. You helped me."

Blushing slightly at her praise, I let my gaze fixate on hers. As I took in her beauty, it felt as though the cart grew dark. As though the world began to disappear, leaving only us in that moment. Behind her, the fading light of day had begun its transition into night, leaving her beautiful face to be lit by the arcane lights of the interior. And as I took in her soft features, I began to realize that there was something about her that drove me mad. Something in the way she smiled. In the way her expression was always filled with so much love.

I had to fight the urge to kiss her, my heart beginning to speed up with each passing second our eyes remained locked. But then there was something else. Something from that dream. The confidence I had once possessed.

"You shouldn't credit me too much," I replied, gently reaching out to brush away the strand of hair that fell before her face and tuck it behind an ear. "You noticed it. I'm proud of you."

Aesandoral's cheeks grew red as I watched the loving expression she wore become lustful in the moments before she moved closer to me. Casually, she reached her hand out, touching at my inner thigh and squeezing gently as she leaned in. My eyes shifted, now focusing on her lips. I watched as she quickly drew them in, wetting them before softly nibbling at the flesh. I watched as the skin pulled against a single tooth as her eyes drank me in. All the while, my pants grew tight as I too leaned in, wanting nothing more than to have a single taste of her.

And then a gild dropped between us, clanging loudly on the carriage floor. This drew the attention of the others, who had been consumed with the sigil.

"Could you two fuggin' not?" Rionriv hissed, her ears tilting back as she eyed us both with equal frustration. "We're still right here, you know?"

"Sorry." Aesandoral and I immediately responded, sliding to opposite sides of our bench.

As the embarrassed elf leaned down and collected her earnings, I looked at the object that I had been clutching in my hand. The ring glimmered in the arcane light, the stars within twinkling brightly as I watched them dance within the stone. Slyly, I looked over at Aesandoral. I sized up her fingers, wondering if the band would have fit her finger. But it was hard to say, and the thought of taking her hand and slipping it past her knuckle was too much to bear.

Dierdra. I thought, shaking my head. I-I don't know if I could ever...

My vision shifted, looking to Rionriv's hand. I could see her dainty fingers twitching as she grasped the sheet and read it over. That was when I wondered if the ring had been meant for her? If the Princess had deserved the band from me? And, as I shifted my gaze up, our eyes locked.

There I saw a forlorn look on her face as she stared back at me. A heartbroken expression I could only imagine was a result of the moment that Aesandoral and I had just experienced. Her ears were low and hanging out to the side, and for the briefest moment, I thought I noticed the familiar look of loneliness. But then she realized I was looking her way and, immediately, her visage hardened.

With a glare cold enough to freeze me solid, Rionriv huffed and looked back down at the paper in her grasp. At this, I released a defeated sigh and glanced back at the ring. The fact of the matter was that I had no idea as to its purpose yet. But what I did know was that the longer I stared at the jewelry, the more I was overcome with a feeling of understanding it. As though looking at the object longer would reveal something at the edge of my mind. So, tucking it away, I decided to leave that problem for me to examine over the solstice. 

I spent the remainder of the trip trying to smooth over the previous awkwardness by discussing a few more job ideas. Unfortunately, all of which were shot down as they either involved mines or slithering abombinations. Slowly but surely, I was beginning to run out of rank-appropriate tasks for us to do. Yet another problem to add to my bucket.

The sun had set by the time our carriage reached the outskirts of Tahvinstead. As it did, the driver slowed the vehicle to a crawl as the once unpaved road gave way to well-maintained cobbled streets. Looking out from the side of our carriage, I could see that where had once been mud, muck, and gnarled trees, we now travelled along a paved path and approached a twenty-foot wall of stone.

With a glance forward, I caught sight of a handful of Tahvinstead guards standing atop the newly constructed battlements now lit by torchlight. Their crossbows drawn, they looked us over from afar before eventually waving us through, beckoning us onward into the hamlet. In an instant, the cart lurched forward, slowly passing through the threshold and beyond the dense lumber door that closed behind us.

As we entered Tahvinstead, I stifled a gasp. In our absence, which was nothing more than a few months, the hamlet had grown significantly to become a proper village. What had once been a few dozen people was now at least two or three hundred living within the protective walls. Two- and three-story homes made of hewn lumber comprised the majority of the village, while some stone and wood buildings marked the trading post, lodge, and tavern. Beyond this, other services had begun to pop up as well, including a tanner, blacksmith and herbalist.

As our carriage loudly clomped over the well-lit cobblestone road, people still moving between shoppes stopped to look at us with curious expressions. Most of these people, unfamiliar to us at a glance, were obviously new additions to the village. To them, I could only assume we appeared to be some royal assholes out for a joyride a little too late. Someone needing a place to bed down for the night, and likely going to criticize the small village. But this couldn't be farther from the truth.

Passing by the sizable defensive tower set near the centre of the village, I glanced up at it in awe. When we had talked about it in the planning stage, I hadn't assumed it would be as large as it was. But as I twisted my neck to see it in its entirety, I’d hazard a guess that it was somewhere near fifty feet tall. A smile crept across my lips as I now knew there was no doubt it would function as intended. And that those who manned it likely caught sight of our approach long before the guards on the wall did. 

Continuing past it, we followed the cobblestone road towards another gate. Unlike the one we had passed through initially, this one led away from the main road that connected Goodshore and Valenkamp. Instead, the paved path travelled towards the lake. Emerging from Tahvinstead, I could see the newly laid road stretching towards the horizon directly ahead of us, and as I stared out at the lit braizers marking the edge of the road every hundred metres, I marvelled at just how much construction had occurred while we were gone. Flickering lights stretched out to our left and right as well as in front, revealing that the workers had already completed at least a quarter of the city-sized sigil we had requested. More than that, it also meant something else. Something more personal.

“I think our manor is done,” I announced, watching as my companions' faces lit up with joy. "Let's go home."