V. A Bard Among Magicians
Dawn light cut through the city, lighting the buildings in golds and reds. The windows reflected it right back, shimmering bright, lights all their own at this hour. It kicked Hawke’s panic into overdrive. He hadn’t realized just how late it was. The first ghosts of dawn had been there when he escaped the library, but he’d thought he’d have more time. There were a few early birds on the grounds as he left, throwing curious looks at Hawke, but he forged on, book securely tucked under his shoulder.
He looked out of place. His face was scruffy in a way theirs weren’t and there was no hiding the panic in his eyes as his gaze darted around for imaginary demonic automatons coming after him. Thankfully, no one saw fit to stop him. Pretending to belong counted for something. Voice or no voice, as long as you looked the part, people believed anything.
As he hurried through the streets, more and more of the city awoke around him. Bells chimed from somewhere, a wakeup call, and made Hawke jump out of his skin. A buzz soon worked its way through the city, as if it had been waiting. Some research was being revealed soon at the research hall. Thankfully, gossip about that kept people distracted, leaving Hawke to weave through early morning risers, no one the wiser as he searched for Citrine’s shop. Which he had no idea where it was. Everything looked weird and foreign to him and that worsened his panic.
Until he heard something familiar. The lingering chime her shop made amongst the other noise in the city. He followed the sound until he found the snaking street he remembered. The crowds steadily grew on his way, shops opening with shouts about shorter hours today, and he arrived at Citrine’s coffee shop just as she opened her door to do the same.
She yelped. He yelped. Magic might have sung from the sound; she slapped a hand over his mouth all the same and all but dragged him inside, away from prying eyes glancing their way. She hauled him all the way into her kitchen before she let him go.
“There you are!” she said, incensed. “Where have you two been?” Her eyes went wide, glancing one way and then the next around Hawke. She furrowed her brows together. “Where is Vahn!?”
Hawke was glad he was between her and the kitchen knives. Her voice had turned murderous in an instant. Not to mention how his head was still spinning from how fast she’d pulled him in. She gave him a moment to collect himself before gripping his shirt again to stand him upright. He put up his hands quickly.
“We tripped the wards,” Hawke said.
Citrine’s eyes somehow went wider. “Are you serious?”
“I tripped the wards,” Hawke amended. She gave him a furious look and he held up his hands again. “He took the fall. Those scary clay automatons took him.” She glanced down and noticed the book beneath his arm. Hawke brought it out. “I at least got us one book.”
Citrine sighed, long and heavy, and massaged her forehead. “Well, it’s not the worst thing that could have happened…”
Hawke took in a sharp breath. “It’s not?” he asked.
Citrine readjusted her glasses and leaned against the counter behind her. “Has Vahn said anything about Senwin Damascin to you?”
“No…” Hawke said. “Who’s that?”
“Senwin Damascin is High Researcher and Tenured Professor of the Floating…” She stopped short and winced, seeing Hawke hurry her on. He didn’t need to know all the man’s damn titles. “Sorry. Habit. He has a very respected and powerful title. Pretty much one below a High Magician. He and Vahn have a… a history,” she said slowly. “Intimate history.”
“Ah.” Hawke nodded. “He slept with him.”
“Yes. A lot, actually.” Citrine gave out a weak laugh. “Senwin was also the one who nominated Vahn to be the Wayfarer Magician. What I’m trying to say is that since Senwin is in charge of the research libraries on these islands, he would be the one to deal with anyone who trips up the automatons. Chances are, he’s in the area since you know, High Magician visit and all. Vahn will be fine.”
She rattled it off in such a way she was trying to convince herself of that fact.
Something wasn’t sitting right with Hawke, however. Nerves too on fire below his skin. He glanced out at the shop where the dawn light was slowly brightening the inside. He swallowed. “Sure, okay, so he’ll just come home on his own?”
“Likely,” Citrine said. “Once they’ve finished catching up.”
The door chimed, making the two of them jump. Hawke about ran out to see if it was Vahn, but Citrine elbowed him in the gut, stopping him, and cut in front of him. Given the way her shoulders tensed leaving the kitchen, however, not Vahn. Hawke took the hint and stayed in the back as she went to greet her early customer.
Hawke sagged against the counter, placing a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart. The book thrummed against his arm, probably making fun of him for his panic. He thrust it face down on the counter and wiped his hair back.
Citrine was probably right. Vahn didn’t even seem that concerned when he was taken away. Hawke was panicking for absolutely no reason.
“Yes, yes, your usual coming right up,” Citrine told the patron who’d come in. Her words were tight, drawing Hawke’s attention. “I’m just getting the last of it ready. You didn’t have to come in to check on me, Paris.”
“You’re so punctual though! I thought you’d be there already,” An elderly man replied. Sounded good natured, but Hawke kept listening anyway. “Which is good, you know. Did you hear that Maggie had to reschedule?”
The silence was deafening. “What?” Citrine breathed.
“Yeah! Apparently, there’s been a breakthrough in one of the cosmic modules. High Magician Irius is coming instead.”
A cup hit the counter. It didn’t shatter, but the elderly man made a sound like he’d attempted to reach out to catch it too.
Hawke was holding his breath, his heart stuttering. That name. He knew that name. He listened to the magic around the shop, searching for what he’d heard—hadn’t heard—and there it was. The silence. Off in the distance. Cutting through everything. And in that silence, Hawke remembered how terrified Vahn had sounded saying the High Magician’s name at all once upon a time. They had to be connected.
“Irius is coming?” Citrine repeated.
“Sweetheart, is everything all right?”
“It’s fine.” Citrine’s machine turned on and Hawke listened harder. “I’m just surprised. He’s usually incredibly busy and doesn’t care much for showing off.”
“He does tend to avoid these, but it must be something special then. There’s not much of a sweet tooth on that man, though… I’m sure you’ll win some favor by simply being on time!” The man paused. “Hey, are you sure…”
“I’m fine.” The sound of the mug clinking on the counter as she set it down rang through the shop, cutting all conversation off. “I have to prepare, then. Take your coffee outside, please. Bring the mug back next time you’re in.”
The man must have moved fast; one moment, there was a heavy silence and then the next, the door chimed and shut. The kitchen door swung open so fast, Hawke jumped. Citrine had gone pale, her eyes wide.
“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no,” she whispered.
“He said Irius?” Hawke asked and she nodded gravely. “That’s the one who found Vahn down below, right?”
Citrine blinked. “Is that all he told you?”
“And that he can cast without speaking. He does not like the man.”
“We have to spring Vahn,” Citrine decided. Hawke nodded; now she was talking. Screw waiting. “If he was caught, then I’m sure Irius found him. Senwin can’t stand against a High Magician. Something happened and it’s nothing good.” She brushed Hawke aside and began pulling out the muffin tins she’d placed in her cold storage overnight. She set them down, barely looking at Hawke until he took her hand.
“Explain a little,” Hawke asked. “Please. I gotta know.”
Citrine sighed through her nose. “Irius has always wanted Vahn to fail,” she explained quietly. She touched a cupboard and something rustled inside. A piping bag and the frosting she’d also prepared came out for her. “It’s no secret, but no one knows why. Yeah, magicians born below are looked down upon, but not to this degree.” She twirled her finger and the black band glowed faintly, as though activated. The piping bag began icing the muffins for her. “He must have had a plan for Vahn. According to my parents, he’d been keeping an eye on Vahn since he was very young. But then he treats him like this?”
Mysteries and secrets overlaid on top of each other.
“We need to save Vahn,” Citrine whispered, staring at Hawke. “If we don’t, I fear we’ll never see him again.”
“What do we do, then?” Hawke asked. “This isn’t like down there—I can’t magic voice my way in. They’ll be on me in seconds.”
“He’ll likely be in a statis chamber of some sort.” Citrine took off her apron and left it on the kitchen door. “All we need to do is get down there.”
“How?” Hawke asked. “I can’t do anything.”
“Nonsense,” Citrine said. “You’re very nondescript and you can hear magic. That’s not a talent many of us have, you know. It’s all about feel and sight.” Her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Okay, I’ve got an idea. I’ll do my job and you’re my assistant. I’ll be so charming and adorable, no one’s even going to look at you. I’ll give you one of my invisibility scrolls and then you sneak off and find Vahn.”
This was a terrible plan. Magicians and their fucking plans.
“Are you going to be safe?” Hawke asked.
“I’m not the Wayfarer Magician and bard with a very interesting voice in a place they shouldn’t be,” Citrine shot back.
“Right. Right.” Hawke scrubbed a hand down his face. “Is the stasis thing going to be where we’re taking the muffins?”
Citrine nodded. “Likely. I’ve never been, though. Not a troublemaker quite like Vahn…” She gave it some thought, narrowing her eyes. “If I had to guess, they’ll be in the basements. Underneath a lot of sigils and wards, just in case. You find it and get Vahn out.”
“What the hells am I going to do against sigils and wards?! This is not a plan!”
“I know that!” Citrine shouted, angry. “But if Irius leaves, then Vahn is likely going with him. Then we’ll never see him again. Are you going to listen to me or are you just going to poke holes in the only plan we’re going to get?”
The thought of Vahn disappearing because of a single person scored a deep emptiness through Hawke. His gut, always the sensible part of him, said to fuck all this magician bullshit and run, but he couldn’t do that. Vahn had stuck by him ever since they met. No. He had to do the same. He nodded and nodded some more. Sure, he was just a bard among a bunch of hoity-toity magicians, but he had his own tricks.
“I’m sorry. I’m listening,” he said and Citrine relaxed. She didn’t say anything right away and Hawke chuckled. “Well, you got more to that plan or are we winging it from there?”
“We’re winging it from there,” Citrine said, smiling faintly. She glanced over her many muffins and the bag of frosting. It was almost done. Most of the muffins had little roses on top now. “Stash your things here in the shop. They’ll know something’s up if you have everything. Once you get Vahn, come back here and grab them on your way to the Sky Transporter. Hopefully no one will stop you.”
“And you’ll be okay?”
Citrine’s smile widened. All dimples and adorableness on display. “I’m just a magician baker,” she said. “No one will ever suspect I’m anything but.”
☉
The hall was fit for lords. Large with ornate black walls scored with golden cracks, making it look like marble. Carved pillars stretched high to a ceiling with a skylight in the center, leaving light cascading downward. From the skylights to the wall was a bold mauve fabric, giving the room a pop of actual color beyond the black and gold. Hawke had to keep his jaw off the floor as he followed Citrine inside.
She didn’t bother giving anything a second glance except the path before her. She walked with precision, magicians moving out of her way when they noticed her, and she held the towering mass of muffins she’d arranged in a pyramid beneath the largest glass bell jar Hawke had ever seen in her arms. He was in charge of the leftover muffins in much smaller containers. The perfect assistant to be overlooked.
Citrine had dressed in a rose printed dress, had sparkled up her cheeks with star-like glitter, and had fashioned her hair into thick plaits. She’d given Hawke his own star glitter and it felt like magic on his skin. Not in a bad way, but a soft cooling sensation where it touched. She insisted it was the fashion and ‘lo and behold, there were many others with the same glitter on their faces. He still felt underdressed, even with the new scarf she’d given him (rose print to match her dress), but Citrine insisted that was a good thing. He was her assistant, after all. He couldn’t be out-dazzling her or the other higher-class magicians currently filling the place.
Thankfully, all eyes remained on Citrine’s smiling face. Many of those already in attendance oohed and aahed over her muffins when she laid them out on the refreshment table alongside what the other bakeries had brought. Cakes, cookies, everything sweet, and Hawke swallowed the rueful chuckle in his throat. All this for a man who did not have a sweet tooth, apparently.
“Magdelena loves sweets,” Citrine whispered under her breath as he helped her arrange the extra muffins around her tower. “That’s why we were all invited…”
“Oh, my dear!” A voice interrupted them and a brighter magician hurried over. Shockingly pink hair and dazzling green eyes. She wore an outfit that was as bright as her and it almost hurt to look at. She snagged a muffin and marveled at it. “This looks delicious! You never cease to amaze me.” She took an exaggerated bite and the other magicians with her watched for a reaction.
“Aw, Lilian, you’re so kind,” Citrine said with a tight smile.
Ah, there was history there.
“You do so well even with your condition,” Lilian continued after she swallowed. “I wouldn’t be able to make anything half as good if I had that.” She made a flippant gesture toward Citrine’s banded wrist. The magicians around them now were nodding, giving Citrine sympathy looks.
Pompous assholes. Hawke bit down on telling them to fuck off.
“I make do,” Citrine said, as syrupy sweet as ever. Like she’d heard the same a dozen times already. “I’m glad you like the muffin.”
“I do! I’m going to make sure to rave about them in my article! You always surprise me!”
“If you don’t mind, I have a few more to set up.”
Lilian and her entourage flounced away, immediately accosting the next arrangement of food and gave it the same oohs and ahhs. Citrine rolled her eyes, huffing, and turned to rearrange the muffins to hide the empty spot.
“Assholes,” she whispered.
Hawke snorted. “Want me to bump into them? Could make them spill their wine.”
Citrine giggled and nudged him. “No, keep being invisible with no effort.” She leaned back and considered her muffins. She nodded. “As good as they’re ever gonna get with my itty-bitty talents.” She scoffed and clapped her hands around a scroll she’d dug out.
A shower of stars sparkled over the muffins, coating them in rose gold sparkles. The nearby magicians stopped and applauded the display. Lilian’s eyes went right back to the muffins and Hawke thought for sure she was going to bowl everyone else over to get another one with glitter this time, but the crowd around Citrine had become too thick to do so politely.
And it got the attention of exactly who they wanted. At least, Hawke assumed so. The magic he heard from the man was silent. Disconcerting. Cutting through everything else like a knife. Hawke couldn’t help how tense his back became as the man reached between him and Citrine to take a muffin. Citrine jumped, hardly seeing him until he was already there, but then smiled up at him.
The man was tall, sharp, and willowy. Hawke could have taken him if magic wasn’t involved. His hair was silvery white with a sheen like metal, and he had bright blue eyes. He considered the muffin like an art piece.
“High Magician Irius!” Citrine said, chipper. “Oh gosh, I didn’t expect you to be here already. Magdalena always likes making an entrance.”
Guessed it in one. Hawke kept his eyes downcast, mouth buttoned shut. Irius smiled at Citrine, barely even glancing at Hawke like he was no more than a fly on the wall. Good.
“Yes, hello, Citrine,” Irius said, his voice impossibly smooth and soft. “I’m not much of an entrance maker, I’m afraid.” The crowd around them, eager to be in a High Magician’s graces if Hawke guessed right, nodded fervently in agreement, chuckling. “Magdelena told me you make impeccable pastries and if so, I should bring her a few when I return.”
Citrine balked, cheeks growing red. The crowd looked from Irius to Citrine and back again, equally shocked. Citrine recovered quicker than them and quickly curtsied. “I’m honored! I hope you enjoy them too. I can definitely package some up for her, but surely, she’ll want to try everything she’s missing from all of us here, not just me.”
Irius hummed, the sound making Hawke’s skin crawl. It sounded perfectly fine, it was just the magic that came out with it. The High Magician turned and noticed Hawke this time. Their eyes met. Hawke’s heart skipped. Irius tilted his head.
“Hello there,” he said. “An assistant?”
“Oh, Irius!” Citrine cut in, almost panicked. He glanced at her again. She tugged on his arm, to the horror of the some of the magicians watching them. “I wanted to talk to you about your notes on the metaphysical theory paper that you published last year. If you’ve got time before you presentation and all.”
More magicians stared at her, like she’d grown a second head. Irius smiled, making him look far more human than Hawke was prepared for.
“You’ve read it?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“Of course!” Citrine eyed everyone around her. “I’m sure we all have.” There were quick nods thrown through the group now hanging on her every word. She was now much more than just a magician baker who couldn’t even cast her own magic. Hawke bit back from snickering. “I was thinking of its applications to one such as me, you know…”
Hawke let that be his cue to sneak away. Magic talk had them all entranced. Someone was handing out glasses of wine among the crowd as well, taking their own chance to ply their goods. Probably magic wine of some kind. He took one to blend in, but just as quickly stashed it somewhere and didn’t drink it. Didn’t need to be drunk on whatever magic might do to him. The next part of the plan was up to him and he had to stay clear headed.
First order of business: finding where to start, which meant leaving the grand hall.
Hawke thought about following one of the servers out, but then what? Still no closer to finding where the stasis chambers were or Vahn. He gazed across the growing crowd and slowly made his way through it. More were surrounding Citrine and Irius’ lively conversation. Some magicians were clearly miffed she’d grabbed his attention so thoroughly. Magicians were as pompous as the noble elite down below. At least Citrine was able to do exactly as she said: distraction.
Among the crowd of those mingling or hanging on the traveling words of the High Magician, Hawke noticed someone markedly different. While most of the crowd waffled between relaxed or excited, in awe of this High Magician, this one glared at the man from the outer fringes of the room. Curious. Older, the man had salt and pepper hair and wore a rich mauve cloak. His eyes behind the frosted pair of glasses set him apart, too. A molten gold that absolutely screamed magician if Hawke had any doubts.
The man downed the glass of wine he’d been holding and turned to leave. Hawke trusted his gut and followed. The magician pressed against one of the far walls, almost hidden underneath one of the banners drawn from the skylight to the wall, and pushed his hand against the surface. A circle pushed inward upon the touch, revealing the outline of a door. With another touch, the wall slid aside, revealing a hallway.
Now or never. Hawke pressed his hand against the invisibility scroll tucked beneath his shirt and scratched it as Citrine had said. Enough of the scroll scraped away, igniting the spell within.
Magic wavered over him, making him startle, but he had faith it worked as intended. No one turned. Scratch that. Irius turned, but his gaze didn’t land on Hawke. Which was good. Citrine had also warned Hawke that if he made eye contact with anyone while he was under the invisibility spell, it would break.
Still, the High Magician narrowed his eyes as he gazed over the crowd. Hawke didn’t stick around to be found. He hurried after Pissed-Off Magician and slipped through the secret passage just before it closed and became a wall again.
Hawke prayed this was the right direction.
The hallway beyond the secret door was barren. No decorations at all, no windows, nothing but shockingly white walls and gray tiles. Pissed-Off Magician had gone to another blank wall at the very end, silver sconces flaring to life as he passed them. Another secret door appeared upon his touch. Hawke hurried after him, pulling a knife free just in case, and slipped in behind the magician before he was trapped.
Score. This magician had to be going somewhere the public wasn’t supposed to be. Which had to be closer to Vahn. Better than trying directions at random.
Pissed-Off Magician continued down another hall of wasted emptiness. The floor had become a slate stone and the walls still a featureless white. Lights came alive upon proximity and Hawke stayed as close as he dared so the magician didn’t notice the lights turning on for someone else. This placed was more labyrinthian than the previous hall and Hawke hated that he had no idea where they were going. The party could be heard in a distant echo, formless words making noise, but that was the only sound beyond the magician’s footsteps.
After a few turns and twists, the magician stopped suddenly. Hawke stopped, too. He was sure he hadn’t made a noise. The magician turned, eyes narrowed, and searched the hall with eyes too bright for their own good. Shit. He must have suspected something. Hawke held his breath and looked away.
For what felt like forever, Pissed-Off Magician didn’t move. He listened. Hawke listened too. The twinkle of everyone’s magic could scarcely reach down here. The silence Irius made cut through all the same, much more pronounced than anything else. He must have been talking again.
Just then, Pissed-Off Magician looked straight at Hawke and their eyes met. The air shifted, the spell dying, and Hawke didn’t waste time. He struck. Smashed the magician in the mouth with his forearm, cutting off a spell, and as the magician staggered, Hawke swung his leg behind the magician’s. Pissed-Off Magician toppled, surprised, and Hawke pinned him to the floor, knife right at his throat.
Pissed-Off Magician blinked. Glanced downward, then back at Hawke, then downward again. They stayed frozen for a moment. Two. It was then Hawke had no idea what to even ask the man. His leg was starting to cramp. It was awkwardly bent against the wall while the other one was pushed into the magician’s side, keeping him down.
Shit. The magician was trying to wait him out. Hawke was going to stumble then Pissed-Off Magician would be free to cast anything he wanted. Shit. Shit. Shit. Hawke didn’t know where to go from here. But then the magician blinked, real surprise in his expression.
“That’s…” He tested speaking and since no magic gathered like it would have with a spell, Hawke allowed it. “That’s Vahn’s magic,” he whispered. “You know Vahn.”
Hawke released the pressure on the knife. “As do you.”
The magician’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. I see now. You’re the one he saved from Elwick,” he said, astonished. “Your voice…”
“Yeah. I know. Magic.” Hawke reapplied the knife’s pressure. “Where’s Vahn?”
“Unhand me and I’ll tell you,” the magician said.
“I’m the one with the knife—you tell me first.”
It was then Hawke felt the magician’s hand against his side. A furious note of magic coming from the fingertips. Hawke stilled. Right. Some magicians could cast magic without the need of words. Maybe it was more prevalent than Vahn had let on. The magician cocked his head, amused.
“You were saying?” the magician asked.
Hawke didn’t know what that spell was going to do to his side. Compromise time. “How about we let each other live at the same time?”
“Sound plan.”
They did. Hawke stood, glad his leg hadn’t cramped and that he was alive, and the magician stood and dusted off his cloak. He stood tall and prim, like a researcher. Like a professor. Shit, this must have been Senwin.
“The stasis chambers are further in,” he said and looked Hawke up and down. “Vahn is currently in one, awaiting Irius’ departure. He needs to leave before that happens.” His eyes narrowed and he readjusted his glasses, becoming Pissed-Off Magician once again. “How in the hells did you perform such an invisibility spell? I couldn’t even detect it.”
“Scroll,” Hawke said and glanced back. The silence was growing louder. Irius must have started whatever demonstration he’d come to do. “I think that asshole heard it.”
“Then we’ve less time than I thought. We need to free Vahn.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.” Hawke sheathed his knife. “I’m Hawke.”
“Senwin,” the magician said. As Hawke thought. He was glad the man didn’t bother to rattle off all his titles. “Keep up. Without magic, you may get lost on your own.”
Hawke scoffed. “Seriously?”
Senwin smirked and adjusted his glasses. They gleamed as the light hit them. “I bet it looks exactly the same no matter where you look.”
Sure, it did, but he didn’t have to say it like that. Hawke glared at Senwin. “Fuck you,” he said, earning a scoff. “Lead the way. I’ll keep up.”
Fucking magicians. Always cocky assholes. Except for Vahn, somehow. At least when he was cocky, he was adorable about it.
Senwin picked up the pace, a spell whispered under his breath that dampened the sound of his footfalls and Hawke’s. The halls looked all the same, blending together, but Senwin walked with the confidence of a man who knew exactly where he was going.
“Once you have him,” Senwin spoke, his voice dampened by the previous spell. “Leave. Take the first Sky Transporter down. Stay away from them too until all this blows over.”
“That’s the plan,” Hawke said. Worry got the better of him. “No one will come after us?”
Senwin sharply turned, grabbing Hawke’s shirt to drag him closer. The wall next to them disappeared like a soap bubble, revealing another one just like it on the other side. “It’s common knowledge Irius has it out for Vahn. He was the only vote against him being the Wayfarer Magician. If we can get him out and gone, Irius will have no proof he was ever here.”
“Except you,” Hawke pointed out.
“Thankfully for me, spells delving into one’s mind are highly unethical. I can simply pretend I have no idea what Irius is on about. Truly easy, once you get to know him.”
They continued on, descending down a tight spiral staircase, and soon the ornate walls of the grand hall returned. So did magicians. Hawke readied himself for a fight seeing the first swish of robes that wasn’t Senwin, but the professor had hardly uttered a word before the shadows overtook the magicians standing guard. They went down with a shout, didn’t even see it coming, and with another silent incant, the shadows stole the magicians away through the wall. All before Hawke had even pulled his knife free.
Scary. Senwin had the gall to smirk at Hawke. He was showing off. Hawke didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking impressed. Even though he was.
The door the magicians had been guarding was rimmed in gold. It shimmered as Senwin approached, a litany of notes sparkling off as magic was cast. Senwin wasn’t deterred and place his hand on the door. It dissolved under his touch like all the others and they walked in together.
The room had obsidian black walls, black tiles that felt like they could swallow Hawke whole, and red drapery hung the ceiling like banners, each one with some sigil or glyph on the front. In the center was a raised brass platform with a podium before it, and inside the platform were crystalline shards emitting a golden glow. And there was a… field of some kind. Hawke wasn’t sure. It wasn’t anything he’d ever seen before, but it warbled like water. Except it wasn’t. It was as black as the walls, with golden flecks like stars floating throughout. And, suspended in the center with his eyes closed, golden bangles gleaming bright, was Vahn.
Hawke startled, jerking forward, but Senwin shot his arm out.
“What is this?” Hawke asked, magic licking up his throat and coating his lips. It seemed to be drawn toward whatever the field was and he grit his teeth.
“This is a stasis chamber,” Senwin explained without emotion. The light from the shards made his face a ghostly white. The shine to his spectacles was otherworldly. “Better than cells of iron. The captive is completely inert and drained of magic while they were within the field. You can’t cast your way out of it and nor can anyone do it for you as whatever magic hits it will also be drained.” He readjusted his glasses and strode toward the podium. “Thankfully, I am head researcher. All it needs is my credentials and I can power it down.”
Maybe it was good then that Hawke hadn’t stabbed him. He swallowed and tried to get a better look at Vahn while Senwin worked. Bruises darkened his arms and neck. Maybe there was more Hawke couldn’t see. Dried blood stained his nose. There was a cut on his lip. He looked like he was in pain.
And Hawke hated that Senwin had spoken about the chamber so nonchalantly. He didn’t seem to care that Vahn looked like he got the shit beat out of him. Hawke swallowed and turned his gaze on Senwin. His hands were moving across the glowing marks on the podium, twisting and turning glyphs that had made themselves visible.
“Why does a research facility need something like this?” Hawke asked.
Senwin cocked his head to the side. “Theft is rampant here. Even we have ne’er-do-wells, though people like to pretend otherwise.” Sigils began to cascade upward and Senwin touched a few of them as they went. “It was not my choice to put Vahn here, but a High Magician’s decision overrides all else.”
Hawke bit back from telling Senwin he still hadn’t done enough. Mostly because Hawke still had no idea what happened. It shouldn’t have come to this. Hatred of his own hand in this simmered in Hawke’s gut, too. It was his fault. From a terrible decision he’d made years ago and then not stopping Vahn when Vahn got too curious for his own good. Vahn had willingly put himself in danger just to help Hawke.
The chamber made a soft trill and magic whooshed out of it. The field began losing pieces of itself, slowly lowering Vahn closer to the podium.
“Why does Irius hate him?” Hawke asked. Maybe he’d get a straight answer.
There was a new tightness to Senwin’s back. “As I understand it, a failed experiment.”
“For what?” Hawke asked. “Vahn’s clearly powerful. You all made him a Wayfarer Magician for a reason.”
“Yes, but that part wasn’t intentional given how Irius acts about it.” Senwin turned his gaze on Vahn and it grew soft. “I know no more than that, I’m afraid.”
The field finished draining itself, more and more like water at the end. That left Vahn to collapse on the podium. Hawke and Senwin flinched, but only Hawke surged forward and stepped onto the podium. Senwin stayed where he was, hesitant.
Vahn was breathing, thank the goddess. But his skin was cold to the touch and he was also pale. His eyes fluttered open and closed, struggling to stay awake. He felt so faint and light as Hawke gathered him up, like he could disappear any moment.
“Vahn?” Hawke tried, letting the magic in his voice coat the name. Just so Vahn knew it was him and not someone else. “Hey, Vahn.” He gently moved Vahn’s hair off his forehead. “It’s me. Say something.”
Vahn’s eyes flew open and he gripped Hawke’s arm. “Hawke?!” he gasped, panicked. He felt more and more solid by the second, his fingers digging painfully into Hawke’s arm. Vahn’s gaze flitted across the room and he curled inward. “No, you shouldn’t be here. You—”
He cut off, swinging a look beside him, and magic surged. A whirl in the room, pulsing against Hawke, but he wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t frightening, not to him. Senwin, however, froze. He’d come closer, just shy of bending down until the magic flared, and he stared at Vahn. There was a glow to Vahn’s eyes, glaring at Senwin, but then his expression softened into one of recognition. The magic ceased just as fast as it had spun.
“At ease, Vahn,” Senwin said with soft familiarity. He finished kneeling down and helped pry Vahn’s fingers from Hawke’s arm. Once he succeeded, he held Vahn’s hand gently. “Listen to me: you will leave. All eyes are on Irius’ demonstration right now, so it’s the perfect cover.” Spoken like a devoted mentor. Clear guidance with a soft voice. “I know Irius will attempt to retaliate, but if you stay away from Spire Cities and all Sky Transporters, you will be fine.”
Hawke frowned. “How long do High Magicians hold grudges?”
Vahn and Senwin shared a pained look. “You tell him the story,” Senwin decided as he rose from his crouch. He gently brought Vahn with him and Hawke followed them up. “Maybe over a campfire sometime.”
“Senwin…” Vahn whispered.
“You are still a Wayfarer Magician, Vahn,” Senwin said more sternly. “Go back to learning. You do love it so. Avoid this mess the best you can.” Gently, Senwin caressed Vahn’s face. “I will never stop believing in you.”
With a deep breath, Vahn nodded. “I understand.”
Senwin produced a black disc from his vest and gave it to Vahn. It lit up upon the magician’s touch, creating golden lines and sigils across the surface. “This will take you out the back way. Keep it.”
All of a sudden, Senwin hesitated, watching Vahn. He glanced at Hawke for a brief moment, but hell if Hawke was walking away to give them privacy.
“Vahn,” Senwin whispered, “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Vahn held the disc with both hands and had his eyes firmly on it. The words had come out cold with a certain finality to them. When Senwin stepped back, Vahn looked up at Hawke and gave him a tired smile. “I say it’s time to flee,” he said. “Get our feet back to the ground, hm?”
“Best plan you’ve ever given me,” Hawke teased.
That got a good-natured slug to the arm. Hawke was glad to feel it and even the soft laugh Vahn gave him next. It reminded Hawke that Vahn would not float away or disappear. As he rubbed the spot that Vahn had punched, Hawke looked at Senwin. “And you?” he asked.
“I feel Miss Citrine may need help for a final distraction,” Senwin said, a certain sparkle to his eyes. “Out the back now with you two. Don’t linger. I’ll keep her out of trouble.”
Without waiting, Senwin turned and retreated the way they’d come. Magic returned to his heels, halting all sound. He didn’t look back once.
Vahn watched him go, conflicted, until Senwin was in the next hall and the wall had closed on him. When he was gone, Vahn sighed softly.
“He better keep her out of trouble,” Hawke said and Vahn snorted.
“He will.” Vahn studied the disc in his hands and turned it this way and that.
“You good?” Hawke asked.
“Mostly,” Vahn answered, furrowing his brow. “I really just want to sleep.”
“You think Senwin will be okay?”
Vahn shrugged. “Likely. He’s the head researcher here. It will do no one any good to get rid of him. I just…” His gaze listed to one side, growing distant.
He was clearly reluctant to say more. Hawke patted his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’ll listen though, whenever you do.”
“Thank you.” Vahn breathed in and lifted his gaze. He looked across the walls until he spied the spot behind the podium, across from the way Senwin had gone. There was another gilded outline. “Ah, see that? An emergency exit made on Space Magic. We touch this to it and it will lead us upward.”
Hawke nodded slowly and listened. He couldn’t hear the party anymore, but there were the distinct sounds of magicians flitting about the halls around them. He scratched the back of his neck. “There’s bound to be magicians everywhere,” he said and Vahn nodded. “You aim low, I aim high.”
Vahn smiled wryly. “They are my contemporaries, Hawke. We shouldn’t maim them.”
“Nah, you’re in a league of your own. They’ve got nothing on you.”
The smile turned shy as Vahn looked away. He cleared his voice and led the way to the wall. He stopped before putting the disc against it. “Once we leave, we should be able to blend in better. I can cast a quick illusion spell like the one I used to obscure us when we first arrived.”
“Got enough magic in you for that?”
“I’ll be fine.” Vahn didn’t sound like he would be. His voice was weak and his words uneven, but Hawke trusted him to know his limit. “Ready?” Vahn asked.
“Ready.”
The wall opened, the distinct chill of Space Magic spilling out of the doorway, and on the other side, two magicians were engrossed in a conversation about enchanted yeast. They turned, shocked, but were too slow to do anything. Vahn magicked one into the chamber and Hawke clocked the other one in the chest, knocking the wind out of them. Another gust of wind stole that one inside too. Vahn sealed the doorway again and they ran.
Even as exhausted as he was, Vahn was a force to be reckoned with up here where magic bent to a single word from his lips. When magicians were on-guard for Vahn’s magic, Hawke found them unprepared for him going high with good old-fashioned grappling. No one got a good look at Vahn, just a shout of “who are you!?” before they were down.
Magic was a loud chorus in the grand hall, reaching out into the surrounding halls, and silent notes cut through it like staccato. Vahn tensed every time it came through. Hawke made sure to memorize the sound—the lack of it—so he’d know when Irius was nearby next. He wasn’t going to let the man get the drop on Vahn ever again.
Like Senwin had surmised, once they left the building, they found much less resistance. Vahn whipped up the illusion spell and while Hawke felt no different, any magician lingering outside looked right past them. Good thing too; crowds had gathered across the front courtyard, a frenzied energy matching those inside. They were too engrossed in themselves to even notice the spell being cast.
He and Vahn were well on their way on the road toward the city when a cheer rang out. It halted Vahn, a visible shiver running through him, and Hawke turned to see what had happened. His stomach dropped.
Glyphs extended outward into the sky. White, wispy, like clouds at first glance, but Hawke knew better. That was magic. The glyphs nested together, growing outward with each passing second. Stars glittered, seen bright and wrong in the day, between the glyphs. The cheers grew louder inside and out. Vahn stared in horror, his mouth agape.
“What is that?” Hawke breathed.
The screech of magic cut across the wind, making Hawke cover his ears. A discordant hum forced itself together in sounds it never wanted to make. The glyphs turned as it did so, the stars flaring brighter.
“Star Magic,” Vahn breathed. Before Hawke could recount in his head all the schools of magic Vahn had once rattled off to him, Vahn shook his head. “It’s new. A branch of Space Magic, but unrefined. Irius is creating it.”
Hawke jerked to stare at Vahn. “He can do that?”
“Unfortunately,” Vahn whispered.
“What does this do?”
“A weapon.” Vahn pointed at it, following it with his eyes. Hawke couldn’t track what Vahn was seeing, but it must have been worse than what Hawke could see with his own eyes. “It’s drawing power from the cosmos. A different kind of magic far, far above us. Except there’s no use for it beyond a weapon.”
“And they’re cheering?”
“They don’t know any more than you do.”
“How do you know?”
Vahn bit down on his lip, eyes wide and distant.
Ah, shit. Hawke gritted his teeth. Vahn had helped create it. He didn’t need to say so; it was written clear across his face.
“I didn’t know what I was doing back then,” Vahn whispered. “I didn’t think…”
Hawke turned Vahn away from it, startling him. “Irius is a fucker.”
Vahn blinked and came back to himself. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what he is,” Hawke said. “Repeat after me.”
“Hawke, I’m not going to say that.”
“It might make you feel better.”
Vahn frowned, trying to hide a smile, like he was seriously considering saying it. Before he could, however, a peel of sound threw itself into the sky. They both looked in time to see stars glitter and explode. The colors were vibrant and bright, quickly covering and ruining the glyph. Hawke couldn’t help but laugh. Fireworks at daytime.
“Ah, our distraction,” Vahn said, warmth coating his words. “Senwin is very fond of Solar Magic infused fireworks.”
If the glyph hadn’t snared everyone’s attention, the fireworks sure did. The crowd began cheering louder for them, like it was intended all along. Hawke and Vahn stole away into the city, never looking back. Hawke was glad the magic droning off the glyphs had softened. The wind carried something playful to his ears this time. A much better sound.
Like Hawke had promised Citrine, they got back to her café, grabbed their things, and peeled out of there. Hawke had to keep Vahn from lingering. The magician still tried, clutching his bag to his chest, and stared at the quiet house of his friend. Hawke wished they could have stolen away with Citrine too, just for Vahn’s sake, but she had a life here. Vahn saw sense without Hawke having to spell it out. Bag thrown over his shoulder, he steeled his expression, and led the way back to the Sky Transporter.
Contrasted to when they arrived, it was a ghost town. Felt too big for its own good, really. They hurried inside, Hawke ready with a magicked story on his lips.
He rushed the desk, making the lone worker jump and almost throw her tome at him. “I gotta leave, now!” he said, panicked.
The clerk blinked and clutched the tome to her chest. “W-What? Excuse me, but you need to book a time and a slot. I can’t just let you leave without proper authorization. We’re not even above a Ground Transporter! You could be spliced!”
Great. Not what Hawke wanted to hear. He forged on instead of asking what “spliced” actually meant.
“No time! I’ll deal with the splicing!” Hawke said. Vahn had slipped into the back while he had the clerk completely distracted. When he was safely there, Hawke let the magic flow even more into his words. “You will let me back there and you will forget you saw me.”
Magic coasted over the girl and Hawke hated seeing it at real work. Enchanting a bar to give him more coin was one thing, this was another. She blinked and nodded, settling into a fugue state. “It seems no one’s here,” she said and opened her tome. “I must have imagined it. No one’s back there either, so pick your transporter and have safe travels.”
Hawke hurried around to the back where the rows of transporter rooms were. Vahn had sensibly picked the first room, thank goodness, and Hawke hurried inside. The board with the controls in the back was lit up underneath Vahn’s hands and he was configuring it as fast as he could. Glyphs lit up and the room began shifting the gems in the ceiling.
“There,” Vahn said. “It’ll send us… somewhere.”
“Somewhere?” Hawke squeaked as Vahn dragged him underneath the gems.
“We’re not near a transporter. It’ll triangulate a path for us.” Vahn held out his hand and Hawke took it, holding it firmly. “Time to say goodbye for now.”
“Good riddance.”
This time, as the transporter gems began glowing, Hawke squeezed his eyes shut. The brightness still warmed his face, his insides, everything. He tasted the heat on his tongue. But then it all faded away to softness. The magic song of the Floating World faded into the brightness and when he could hear again, it was the familiar tread of Wild Magic upon the breeze. It was like a friend greeting him and he hadn’t even realized he missed the familiar noise of the wild.
Sunlight replaced the bright sear, bright and golden. Warm in all the right ways, too. Hawke opened his eyes and took in the transporter around him and Vahn. The inside had been ravaged with time and disuse. The door was already half open, cracked in its frame. Hawke was honestly surprised the transporter worked.
As soon as that thought crossed his mind, a chunk of the transporter gem clunked to the floor. The two of them yelped, getting out of the way as a few more pieces came down. Vahn cringed, gritting his teeth, and Hawke decided not to think too hard about almost being spliced.
“You all there?” Vahn asked anyway.
Hawke patted himself down and his lute. Safe. “Seems to be. You?”
Vahn nodded. “Same here.” He exhaled a great breath and glanced over his shoulder. “I guess we should see where we are.”
Sensible.
They went outside together. The now broken Sky Transporter was at a crossroads. Dusty road this way, that way, and then over there too. There was a sign, but the writing had worn off. Typical. Weather was pleasant, at least. The cool air that lingered after a thunderstorm. Hawke could still see the dark clouds off to the distance and crossed off that as a direction to go. He glanced down the other paths and frowned. Nothing as far as he could see. That wasn’t a real problem, not for him, but he would have liked to know exactly where they were. He'd never not known before.
Before he could admit to the newfound terror coiling deep in his gut, get it out of his head, Vahn fainted. Folded over and hit the ground, eyes closed.
“Ah, shit,” Hawke hissed. He bent down and checked on the magician. Out like a light, getting an impromptu nap. Hawke wished he’d waited until they found where they were going, but at least they were already through the transporter.
Hawke sighed out the anxiety spike and wiped hisank hair back with both hands. Vahn was simply exhausted. It was only natural and he would wake up in time. He repeated it to himself, over and over again until he fully believed it. It wouldn’t have been so bad if this wasn’t the second time Vahn had outright fainted on him, although at least this time, it wasn’t because of Elwick stealing his magic.
“Well, wind?” Hawke spoke to the breeze fluttering over him. “Where to?”
He peered down one way and then the next and then back. The wind trilled softly against his ear, tugging at his clothes, and he nodded. That one, then. Decision made. He gently took Vahn’s bag and affixed his lute across Vahn’s back instead.
“C’mere Vahn, you gotta hold onto this if you’re gonna be on my back.” Once the lute was secure, Hawke swung Vahn’s bag over his shoulder and gathered Vahn up onto his back. Hawke’s own exhaustion was creeping in, but he could get to a place to rest before it claimed him completely, he was sure.
“Here we go, Vahn,” Hawke said and stood. “I’m following the wind again, so you know. Just like when we met. Let’s go.”
And he walked.
🙡🙢
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