III. Wards & Automatons
Unlike down below where it could be dark in the places between larger towns and villages, the only light that of the twin moons or well-placed roadside lamps, the World Above barely dimmed. Sure, the sun went down, the moons appeared, but its streets remained awash with light from lamps charged with Solar Magic (according to Vahn; they certainly twinkled like magic, though), as did every conceivable path one could walk, like everyone up here was afraid of the dark. The magic chimes from the omnipresent magic never stopped either, but Hawke was growing used to it. Sometimes, he hummed along with it when he was sure Vahn wasn’t listening. Soon, the magic up here would mold to its own kind of silence much like how the Wild Magic below must have already done.
Vahn had stolen them through emptier streets once the twin moons rolled high in the sky, confidence in his step as they followed the road to the towering buildings not far from the city’s center. He explained on the way the buildings housed the Epsilon Research Library (all right, Hawke shortened the name in his head; Vahn rattled off the entire title, but Hawke wasn’t going to commit all that to memory) and the tallest one was the community hall where speakers came and meetings were held. It had its own raised grounds and gardens, each tiered and flowering on the way up the center stairway. They were also almost too perfectly kept, like someone would definitely notice a plant out of place if he and Vahn cut right through.
The buildings themselves looked like the ones in the city, the little lights embedded into the grounds shining on the exterior as though to make sure everyone could see it no matter the time of day. Same gray façades with sunburst spires, floral designs cutting between windows and across them, and tall arching windows. Inside was dark, shuttered for the night. The sign nearby was lit up all on its own too and read out the name of the place Hawke didn’t bother trying to read; it was the research place Vahn was looking for and that was that.
Hawke had honestly hoped they wouldn’t steal off to the library at night. Vahn and Citrine, after the lovely breakfast he’d made that they absolutely devoured and immediately asked for seconds—magicians—Vahn had gone right back to research, resisting anyone’s insistence that maybe he could take more time to relax. He’d taken over Citrine’s sitting room and had books floating around him if his nose wasn’t buried in it.
Because Hawke had been listless, unable to help much with research, Citrine had roped him into helping her finish the muffins. She’d even taught him to use her coffee machinery for incoming patrons. They’d been curious about him, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. If both Vahn and Citrine could tell something was up with a single word, he hadn’t wanted to take the chance. Working with Citrine whittled away the day at least.
As for Citrine, though Hawke had hoped she would be on his side regarding convincing Vahn to stop researching, she hadn’t been. Whenever she had a moment to herself, she’d steal away into her sitting room and helped Vahn scour a few more books.
Despite their attempts, neither had found anything useful.
So, here he was with Vahn. About to sneak into a building he was sure was so magically warded, he’d be ejected on the spot for being so unmagical. Or perhaps caught and dissected because something was bound to notice Elwick’s magic tangled up inside his throat.
The grounds held no guards of any kind, thankfully, and they made it to the side door without issue. Apparently, the wards around the library were so strong, there was hardly a need for added security after hours. Hawke wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
Thankfully, though, Vahn was the Wayfarer Magician and knew his way around the wards. Hawke could hear the magic twinkling against the doorframe and the way it shifted as Vahn touched it with his hand, eyes tracking something Hawke couldn’t see.
It might have been safer if Hawke had stayed back. Both Vahn and Citrine insisted he stuck out, even scrubbed top to bottom twice, his skirt pressed with a magic device Citrine had let Vahn use (Hawke’s shirt was whiter than it had ever been), and a flamboyant scarf spun with magic-made colors around his neck to fit in fashion-wise. He was still too obviously dirt born. It was just the way he was. He couldn’t unlearn that.
Hawke just hated being secondary in his own problem. It was quickly dawning on him, the way Vahn acted here, how much Vahn was risking by returning. All for a scrap of information they could use to maybe defend against magic incarnate. If someone recognized Vahn, would that be an end to his wandering? What would happen to him? What would also happen to Hawke?
“You look so nervous,” Vahn said, making Hawke jump.
“Goddess, you scared me!” Hawke glanced at the door, but it was still shut tight. He grumbled and glanced around them. Darkness between lamps, but no one else. “You can talk and do that?”
“It’s like the ward at Maxima’s tower,” Vahn explained. “Just overlaid multiple times. I’ve made an acquaintance with this ward before. Numerous times. I can do this in my sleep. It just takes time.”
“You know…” Hawke snickered and leaned against the wall. “I recall you saying you were once caught by a ward. Something about rifling through offices and someone getting wise?”
The embarrassed smile on Vahn’s lips he tried to hide was all the evidence Hawke needed to say yes, he’d remembered correctly. “Yes,” Vahn stretched the word, “and I had to redo all his wards. Among other things. That was the sole time I was unintentionally caught, so you know.”
“Oh? How about intentionally?”
Vahn moved his finger along some magic groove he must have been following. One of the twinkles from the door ceased and he was on to the next one. “I’m not answering that,” he said and before Hawke could needle him, Vahn continued. “So? You and Citrine. Were you nice to her?”
Hawke let the subject change. “Like she didn’t already tell you.” He’d heard them as he made breakfast and had to choke back laughter when Citrine tried to drag Vahn out of the room without pants on.
Citrine was cute. Adorable. What Hawke had really needed and he’d enjoyed making her smile. Enjoyed teasing her throughout the day, sneaking little kisses on her when no one was looking. Trice was always a little haughty, but Hawke had liked that too. In comparison, Citrine was sweet. Like a first love kind of sweet. A nice break from the usual.
“I’m glad you got along,” Vahn said. “I wish she could come with us.”
“We’d be fighting over who got to cook,” Hawke said and Vahn chuckled. It was a sadder sound than Hawke expected. He paused and softened his voice, watching the magician. “I’m sorry you two can’t adventure together. You seem to miss her a lot.”
Hawke had been on his own for a long time, but he’d still made lots of friends. None as tight as Vahn and Citrine were, but he knew he could find familiar faces when he treaded paths he’d already taken. Vahn, however, couldn’t. Everyone was a stranger. Strangers who didn’t trust him because it was so obvious he was from the Floating World, any hint he was actually born down there like them scrubbed away. And despite all that, the Floating World didn’t want him either.
It sounded lonely.
“Vahn…”
“It’s not a big deal,” Vahn cut him off. “Besides…” He smiled shyly at Hawke. “I’ve got you now, don’t I?”
The ward chimed, the sound melting against the door, and it unlocked. Vahn didn’t give Hawke a chance to consider what he’d said before he slipped inside, leaving Hawke no choice but to hurry after him into the dark.
The interior was dim, lights set at a low incandescence, leaving so much of the library shrouded in shadow. Still, Hawke saw enough to know he’d never see this many books ever again. The World Below had libraries, of course, some full of hand penned books and even more utilizing a printing machine the Floating World had gifted the Spire Cities, but none of them would ever hold a candle to this. Gilded shelves shimmered from floating magic candles and enchanted sconces, tomes were gilded in gold, ladders reached into the highest of shelves that seemed to go on and on until it reached the ceiling.
No one needed this many books in one place, Hawke was sure.
As such, he had absolutely no idea where to start, feeling even more out of his element, but Vahn must have had an idea. His head did the playful tilt it always did when he was onto something. Eyes flitting this way and that, reading something in the air Hawke couldn't see. Maybe magical directions floating in front of them unseen. Maybe something else.
While Vahn determined where to start, Hawke took a glance at the dark again. In the shadows, he spied… something moving. He couldn’t tell what, but the fact it was moving made him tense. Vahn noticed and waved a dismissive hand.
“Just an automaton,” he said. “No harm. They’re docile unless you’re not meant to be here.”
Hawke cleared his voice. “We’re not supposed to be here.”
“We’re past the wards. Should we not trip any that are inside, the automatons will believe by that alone, we belong.” Vahn smiled mischievously. “So easy to exploit.”
Tension melted out of Hawke. He snorted, side-eyeing Vahn. “But you aren’t going to explain that to anyone, are you?”
“And make it harder to sneak into libraries? Goddess, no.”
“Well, where do we start?” Hawke asked.
Vahn peered outward toward the towering stacks and Hawke followed his gaze. The books rivaled on the thousands. Possibly more. Scratch that; definitely more. Each one sung a soft hymn, twinkling off one another nestled in their shelves. Hawke sighed and cracked his neck. This was going to be a long night.
“Stupid question,” he said. “There’s a lot.”
“It’s not stupid. I’m just thinking.” Vahn crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his chin. “If Elwick is as elusive and mysterious as we think…” He drew forward slowly, drawing his arm in front of himself. The notes hanging in the air shifted, pulling apart like curtains. “Then we can cross out whole stacks.” He cut his hand across the air, like he mentally crossed them off some internal list. He turned and began nodding. “We want books students wouldn’t normally have access to without supervision. Older history and spell books… from before a time we could replicate them easily…”
Ahead, up a spiral staircase and past what must have been the dark shape of an automaton, was a nook seemingly covered in a sheer curtain. An iron grate had been built around it, too, preventing access. The glowing curtain was concerning, but Hawke bet that was a ward he was seeing with his eyes. Must have been made visible on purpose. Two forms of keeping people out. Promising.
“Not normally have access to, huh?” Hawke nudged Vahn and pointed it out to the magician. “I’m sure you’ve accosted them without supervision.”
Vahn pushed Hawke’s elbow. “You know me so well. Put a ward up and I’ll want inside it by default.” He blinked and nodded. “That’s a good place to start. Good eye, Hawke.” He hesitated suddenly and looked up at Hawke. “It’s imperative you follow me exactly. No straying at all. Wards are everywhere afterhours. I can easily adjust them as I walk, but it only works if you stick near me and don’t stray.”
Hawke swallowed. “Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he said. “I’m out of my element.”
Their venture forth into the bowels of the library was slow and exact. Automatons whirred by, notes of magic lilting off their wheels. They had a triangular shaped stone bodies fitted into a plate where the wheels were connected to. Long arms with ball joints hung off the sides with little hands, perfect for gripping books. Would have been cute if not for the cherubic faces they’d been given. Too realistic for Hawke’s taste.
Thankfully, the first one whirred by without giving them a second glance. But then a second came and stopped right in front of them, turning its creepy face directly on them. Vahn paused, holding his breath, and Hawke did too. After a moment that seemed to drag, it whirred on just like its friend. Much preferred. Hawke was sure he could have taken one if it came down to it, but they were waist high; if one had the sense to take him out at the knees, he’d be done for.
Hawke admonished himself for thinking it a possibility and ran his hand down his face. He was so out of his element, thinking of the worst outcomes. His nerves were too on edge and he wished he’d stayed at Citrine’s place and waited worriedly for Vahn’s return. Not like that would have been any better, he supposed. At least he would have had an adorable distraction and more importantly, he could have been her distraction.
The restricted section Vahn led them to took Hawke out of his thoughts, at least. Moreso the sound it made upon their arrival. The tomes sung in harmony with each other, like a magician put them together for that reason alone. The rest of the library had verses that lined up, sure, but it matched how the Floating World sounded as a whole: jagged pieces fitting together, masquerading as song. This, however, was put together with immense thought. With clear devotion to the sounds magic made. He was stunned still as Vahn magicked the iron gate aside.
“It sounds wonderful,” Hawke whispered, feeling he should, as Vahn gentle walked the perimeter to touch the books with a whispered incantation. Magic dulled, quieter, and Vahn smiled at him.
“Really?” he asked. “I wish I could hear it like you do.”
Hawke came inside the enclosure and glanced at the books. “Wild Magic has a certain kick, you know, when it’s actively doing stuff. This is pretty.”
Vahn tilted his head, giving it some thought. “Do you prefer it?”
Hawke shrugged. “It’s different.” He took a book from one of the shelves Vahn had touched and glanced at it. Nope. Couldn’t even begin parsing the page, like it knew he was dirt born with no magical aptitude. He slotted it back into place only for Vahn to eagerly take it next. “Although, I bet I’d be safe from Elwick up here. No Wild Magic for him to ride on.”
“It’s a shame you can’t,” Vahn mused and let the book go. It opened and floated beside him as he went for another.
“Would it be so hard?” Hawke gave up looking and watched Vahn instead. He seemed to have an idea what he was doing rather than drawing books at random like Hawke would have done. One book went back and another came out, joining the other floating tome. “You can’t all be magicians up here, can you?”
“Not all of us, no,” Vahn said, “but there’s magic in the blood, I guess. I’m sure you’ve noticed the difference.”
Hawke scoffed. “So their skin’s cleaner and their hair’s shinier. Don’t see what a big deal that is.” Vahn chuckled softly. It was more withdrawn than Hawke thought it’d be. The magician was thinking too much again, clearly, and it wasn’t about the books. Hawke forged on. “I know there’s some who come down there to live.”
“Usually under the guise of some kind of research, yes,” Vahn said.
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t work in reverse.”
“You wouldn’t like it,” Vahn said. “Traveling isn’t as free. Nothing wild about it. All regimented and everything has a kind of purpose. They’d cast you out for not following it.”
Hawke took the jab at his own proclivities with a chuckle. Yet Vahn looked forlorn still. Thinking too hard. “Speaking from experience.”
“I’m a dirt born magician to them,” Vahn reminded and Hawke winced. Vahn missed the expression as he drew his finger along the books. “Sometimes, older magicians liked to remind me it was a privilege I was even allowed to be here. To go to their prestigious university. They could have just done to me what they’d done to Citrine. A nullifying band. I wouldn’t have known what it was. Maybe I would have been happier for it.”
Citrine hadn’t talked about the band much. She also hadn’t liked Hawke touching it, so he’d left it alone.
“Or worse,” Hawke whispered, remembering what Luven had raved about back when he and Vahn first met. Stronger magicians taking magic from the weaker ones until nothing remained, like what Luven had been doing to augment himself. Vahn made a face, likely thinking of the same. They’d never really talked about it, but Hawke hadn’t wanted nightmares.
“What did those magicians do?” Hawke asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Vahn replied.
There was hurt there. Buried deep underneath Vahn’s usual brightness at everything magic. “And you want to be High Magician of this place still?” he asked instead.
Vahn didn’t respond. He stared at an open book, silent and still. Immediately, Hawke knew he’d pushed too far. For all that Vahn loved the World Below, being free to wander and study as he desired, he’d one day be trapped up here again in a system that actively disliked who he was. Some misguided desire to change it was what Hawke guessed was Vahn’s reason for even wanting to be a High Magician, but some systems were too broken. He must have seen that. Maybe that was why Maxima had gone out the way they did. Cut themself off from the Floating World so they’d be at peace.
Bringing up Maxima, however, was a bad idea. Even though they’d left their skeleton in higher spirits than when they’d found it, Vahn was still bothered by the whole ordeal.
Still, Hawke felt like an asshole. It wasn’t the time to be needling Vahn about his dreams or anything of the sort.
“Hey,” Hawke said, softly, and reached out, intending to apologize. A familiar cadence stole his attention, however. He froze, straining his ears to listen past all the soft songs. The tune coyly caressed his face with a familiar touch. It drew his gaze higher, above Vahn’s head.
“Hawke?” Vahn whispered, confused.
A single book caught his attention. The ghost of a sound he’d heard in his past. Over the fire Elwick had blazed upon their first meeting. The soft magic he’d whistled, glowing eyes holding Hawke still. The way his voice murmured in Hawke’s ear, soft whispered words.
Hawke took the book, Vahn watching him intently. But as soon as he had it in his hands, the music stopped. All of it did. All around him. Vahn gasped and ripped Hawke’s arm away from the shelf, but it was too late. A shrill buzz shrieked through the library. It sounded like a dozen stringed instruments snapped at once.
“No, no, no!” Vahn hissed, shoving the book into Hawke’s chest. The other ones dropped to the floor, forgotten. He ripped out his wand from his shirt and snapped it toward the library with a flourish. Didn’t help; the shriek continued unabated.
It was then Hawke realized what he’d done—snapped a ward. A clanging descended across the library, the once playful sound of the automatons turning into war chimes. Not good. Hawke swung his gaze around the shadows; red dots in the distance flared, eyes looking in their direction from all over.
Vahn swore and shoved Hawke into the far corner. Hawke hit it with a grunt, but Vahn pushed a hand over his mouth to stop him from making any other sound. He was whispering too quickly for Hawke to grasp. The air vibrated and shifted, a gauzy haze attempting to cover him like a shroud.
“What happened?” Hawke hissed around Vahn’s hand. Vahn simply pushed his hand harder against Hawke’s mouth, stopping him.
“The shelves were bespelled individually. I forgot to check. You’re taller than me and I just… I can’t redo them! This isn’t good.”
“Vahn—”
“And you’re too big!”
“What?!”
“I’m not versed well enough in Illusion Magic to hide both of us.” Vahn gritted his teeth and glanced at the red eyes coming closer. “Hawke, just do what I say and stay here until the danger’s passed.”
Vahn stepped back, gentle, and though Hawke about ran after him, magic fell over him. It made everything soft and blurry. It was too quick to hear. Too quick for another plan. He was safe.
Vahn was not. The automatons had arrived. Their faces had hardened and no longer had the innocent cherubic expressions. They’d twisted into a glare befitting a monster, eyes glowing a crimson red. Vahn faced them, holding his hands up, and the automatons held out their arms. Glyphs ignited against their fingertips and ribbons of light shot forward.
The lights hit Vahn hard, knocking him backward, but they caught him before he fell. They wrapped around him tightly, all the way around, snaring him still. Hawke jerked to help him—surely he could kick one and send it flying and Vahn could take down the next ones—but he stayed put as Vahn shot him a glare.
“I will be fine,” Vahn stressed as he was yanked back to his feet. One automaton took the lead and the rest surrounded Vahn like a wall. “Once we’re gone, follow my magic back out. Tell Citrine what happened.” He tried to sound confident, but there was worry behind the mask. “If I’m not back by noon, then you can worry about me.”
“Do I just wait?” Hawke hissed and one of the automatons swiveled its head all the way around. He snapped his mouth shut, swallowing whatever magic the thing had detected.
“Yes,” Vahn stressed, and magic ignited against his bound fingertips. The automaton spun around to stare at him and jabbed him in the lower back. “Ow, sorry, yes. I’m going, I’m going. You don’t need to jab me.”
Helplessly, Hawke watched Vahn get taken away. The offending book was still in his hands and it felt smug. He wanted to forget about it, throw it, but they’d come this far. He shoved it under his arm and waited until he could no longer hear the automatons.
As he left the illusion, it felt like a cold curtain ghosting across his skin. It dissipated once he passed it, its job done.
The library had grown silent. No more songs echoed off the stacks. It was like everything held its breath. A silence so deafening, Hawke hated it. He scowled and glanced around. No sign of Vahn or the automatons at all. Just gone. Everything looked the same to him, too. How was he supposed to get out?
But then he heard the softest touch of Vahn’s magic. The delicate weavings he’d done on his way in, parting the wards for them. Hawke exhaled through his nose and steeled himself. Fine. He’d escape, just like Vahn told him, but fuck if he was waiting around for noon. As soon as he got back to Citrine, he was planning Vahn’s escape. He only hoped Citrine would know where the automatons were taking him.
🙡🙢
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