Aellyn awoke with a start, bolting upright in bed. Conrad crouched at the small window between the two beds, leaning close to the glass and peering intently out into the darkness, his brows furrowed. Before she could wonder what was happening, she saw a sudden wash of bright orange light split the darkness like the flash of a lightning bolt, gone in an instant. Conrad turned from the window and darted to her, grabbing her arm and hauling her from the bed. Before she could make a sound, he hurled her to the floor next to their bags. In that split second, he gathered her into a tight ball beneath him, and wrapped his body around hers. There came then a deafening sound, so loud that Aellyn couldn’t make out any one thing in the cacophony, and a blazing heat rolled over them. Her ears rang, and the floor beneath them shuddered violently. Aellyn looked up at Conrad then, desperately.
“What’s happening?” she asked, a nervous tremor in her voice.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but we need to get out of here. Now.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. Looking back, she saw the glass of the window lay in shards around them and she could hear screaming outside. “Come on!” he urged her desperately, tugging at her wrist. She scooped her bags from the floor, slinging her pack over her shoulder, and allowed him to pull her along.
Opening the door, they found the hall filled with terrified guests fleeing for the stairs. Keeping a tight hold on her wrist, Conrad pulled her along behind him into the flow of bodies. They squeezed their way down the stairs and into the common room. Aellyn glanced around frantically, looking for any familiar faces among the crowd and finding none. Most of the guests around them were fleeing out the front door, but Conrad dragged her along toward the side door to the stable yard from which they’d entered earlier. The air was filled with a heavy, acrid smoke and screams could be heard from every direction. Amid the chaos, Aellyn could hear their horses’ panicked whinnies from within the stables. Conrad broke into a run, pulling her along behind, heading for the stables. Reaching the door, he flung it wide and with a hand to her back, practically shoved her inside, following hot on her heels.
As they reached their horses’ stalls, they grabbed their tack and saddles from where they hung over the dividers and quickly readied their mounts, taking care to soothe the animals as much as they could to avoid getting kicked in their haste. Aellyn glanced around frantically as she tightened the girth strap, searching for familiar animals in the neighboring stalls.
“Hurry up!” Conrad shouted at her, and she saw he was already mounted, his expression desperate. She secured her saddlebags and scrambled up into the saddle. As soon as he saw she was mounted, he kicked his horse into a gallop and bolted for the door, and she could only follow him. When they reached the street, he reined in his mount hard and the startled stallion reared and danced. She pulled up alongside him, her own mare shifting nervously beneath her. They looked around, and it seemed the entire town had descended into chaos. Townsfolk filled the streets, running in all directions, seeking refuge and finding none. Buildings burned furiously around them, fires spreading quickly from one thatched roof to the next. It seemed the entire town would go up like a bundle of kindling. There were craters filled with the shattered remains of shops and houses scattered among the devastation, and Aellyn could see scorched bodies lying like broken dolls within the wreckage. She looked to the sky, and saw a steady rain of blazing fireballs descending on the town from some unknown source. Conrad followed her skyward gaze, and his expression turned grim.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Our best bet is to stick to side streets with less traffic, and make for the forest.”
“Rom’s horse wasn’t in the stables,” Aellyn said, the tremor in her voice betraying her concern. He gave her a sympathetic look.
“All we can do right now is get ourselves to safety,” his tone was gentle, but insistent. “We can look for Rom after.” He urged his mount on, leading them further down the street and away from the center of the town at a steady canter, scanning for any side street that might lead them further away from the destruction, and Aellyn followed silently behind him. She stared at his back, deliberately refusing to acknowledge their surroundings. She knew it was probably unwise, but she just couldn’t bring herself to see the horror around them.
They wove carefully down side streets and between houses and shops, keeping their horses moving at a quick but careful pace, taking care not to stop or respond to any of the panicked townsfolk they encountered along the way. Aellyn could still hear horrified screams and the whistle of descending fireballs in the air, followed by tremendous explosions that rocked the earth under their horses’ hooves. Conrad was constantly glancing back to make sure she was still with him, his expression set in grim lines. After a few moments, they found themselves passing the last cluster of buildings on the edges of town, and they kicked their mounts into a gallop, making for the tree line. When they reached the cover of the trees, they drew their mounts up short, turning to take in the scene still unfolding within the town.
“What…?” Aellyn asked, the question trailing off uncertainly. Her voice was husky from the smoke, and her expression was stunned, her eyes, frantic.
“I don’t know,” he replied, shaking his head. Fire continued to rain from the sky, and they could still hear the commotion of the beleaguered townsfolk in the distance. They stood there for a moment, catching their breath and watching helplessly as the doomed town burned.
“We should try to find Rom and the others,” Aellyn said after a moment, turning to look at him. Her face was streaked with soot, but her eyes were determined now. “Maybe they were still on the road when this all began.”
“Maybe,” was all he said in reply, but his tone was doubtful.
They turned their mounts and headed further into the trees. They kept a slow pace now that the immediate danger was behind them, and picked their way carefully through the trees and underbrush, scanning around them in the evening’s gloom for any signs of life. They’d exited the town on the southwestern side, and now they circled north in a wide arc, heading for the road where they were most likely to find any signs of their companions. They were silent as they rode, each lost in their own thoughts. The only sounds around them were the snapping of twigs beneath their horses’ hooves and the low, distant howl of a dying town.
They reached the road a short time later, but what they found there did not buoy their sagging spirits. The supply wagons were smashed to pieces, the debris strewn across the road. The bodies of horses, guards and footmen lay amid the wreckage like broken dolls. Aellyn dismounted and slowly circled the scene, looking for survivors. As she surveyed the destruction, she realized she didn’t recognize any of the bodies.
“They’re not here,” she said, stopping to look over at Conrad, who crouched nearby, sifting through a pile of supplies for anything that might still be useful.
“Who?” he asked without looking up.
“My uncle, my aunt, the twins, any of them,” she waved around her, indicating the piles of broken wood. “I don’t see anything that looks like the carriage.” He looked up then and met her eyes, his expression was concerned. When she simply shrugged in response, he stood and looked more closely at the wreckage around them.
“You’re right,” he said after a moment, frowning.
They heard a sudden loud rustling in the trees off the side of the road, then a pair of riders came crashing back onto the road. They drew their mounts up abruptly, the horses dancing nervously.
“What happened here?” Aellyn asked, recognizing them.
“We were riding up ahead,” Dacyne replied, pointing in the direction of the town.
“She wanted to catch up to you,” Daelar said sourly, with a distasteful glance at his sister.
“We didn’t see what happened, but we heard some kind of explosion…”
“Magic of some kind,” Daelar put in cryptically.
“We came back, and it was like this. The carriage was ahead of the supply wagons, and whatever it was, it missed them, but it spooked the horses and they bolted.”
“They took off into the woods,” Daelar clarified.
“We tried to follow them, but we lost sight of them in the forest. We decided to come back to help any survivors.” Dacyne finished lamely.
“We figured the carriage would make its way back once the horses were under control.” Daelar looked down at his hands.
“Well, they’re alive,” Conrad said quietly, watching Aellyn closely. She nodded, closing her eyes and letting out a gusty sigh of relief. “Did you see anyone else?” he asked, turning back to the twins. They both shook their heads. “Alright,” Conrad replied, returning to his horse and mounting up. “Let’s go look for Rom.”
“Wasn’t he with you?” Dacyne asked, confused.
“He rode back out to meet you,” Aellyn explained, her voice grave. “We haven’t seen him since.” The twins exchanged a worried look.
“We’ll find him,” Daelar said with a determined nod. Aellyn tried to favor them with a grateful smile, but the expression was weak and seemed somewhat sour. She turned and walked back to her horse, her shoulders slumped. She pulled herself back into the saddle and nodded to the others, and they set off down the road towards what remained of Baredenn, hoping to find any sign of their missing companion.
The fires in the sky seemed to have vanished, Aellyn was grateful to note, but she wondered what would be left of the town. She shuddered, thinking of the devastation they’d left behind them. The screams. The bodies. She shook the thoughts from her head and returned her focus to the road ahead of them. The wide, well-worn dirt track was empty and quiet. Birds could be heard chirping and singing in the forest around them, signaling the coming dawn and the end of the chaos that had turned their plans, and the lives of so many, upside down.
“We’ll return to the wagons after we find Rom,” Conrad said quietly. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the wreckage of their caravan, and the suddenness of his words startled Aellyn from her grim contemplation. “See if there are any useful supplies left,” he elaborated. Aellyn could only nod absently in response. She was too busy trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Her thoughts seemed to swim in circles, always coming back to the horror she’d seen on the faces of the townsfolk as they’d made their escape.
They rode on for a while longer until finally they came around a bend in the road and ruined buildings came into view on the horizon. Smoke billowed into the sky as the first rays of morning’s light began to brighten the sky. A faint orange glow painted the scattered low-hanging clouds that drifted lazily overhead, a reflection of the smoldering fires that still ate away at the town before them. Aellyn’s stomach gave a nervous lurch as she realized, they were back at Baredenn, and they’d seen no sign of Rom. She reined in her mare. Conrad likewise brought his stallion to a halt beside her and turned to regard her calmly. Her eyes were wide and panicked, her expression frantic, but she said nothing. Realization dawned, and his face turned sympathetic.
“He’s probably fine,” he said quietly. “We may not have found him, but we didn’t find his body, either.” Aellyn gave a slow nod, considering his words.
“If he was dead, we’d have found his body on the road,” she murmured.
“Exactly,” he replied. She gave a great sigh, and that seemed to settle her somewhat.
“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice seemed small and uncertain, almost childlike.
“We should return to the caravan,” Dacyne said from behind them. “Gather what supplies we can, and carry on.” Conrad and Aellyn both turned in their saddles to regard the twins.
“Shouldn’t we find out what did this?” Aellyn asked suddenly. She glanced briefly at each of her companions, gauging their reactions.
“Magic of some kind,” Daelar repeated, his tone thoughtful. “Powerful magic.” Aellyn and Conrad turned their mounts so they could face their companions squarely, coming in closer so they could speak quietly.
“What do you know?” Conrad asked.
“Not much,” Daelar replied. “But it takes significant power to rain down fire upon an entire town.”
“This was done by someone, on purpose?” Aellyn asked, her voice incredulous.
“So it would seem,” the elven priest lamented.
“Why?” Aellyn demanded. Her mind flashed back to the screams and the destruction, and she simply couldn’t fathom why someone would want to inflict such suffering on an innocent population.
“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Daelar admitted, shaking his head sadly. “I can only assume whoever it was, they wanted to destroy something within Baredenn.”
“Maybe if we can find which part of town was most badly damaged, that might give us some clue as to the culprit’s motives or identity?” Dacyne suggested.
“And if Rom and the others are still out there, maybe they’ll come to Baredenn looking for us?” Aellyn mused aloud.
“It’s possible,” Conrad nodded thoughtfully.
“Should we return to the wagons for supplies first?” Aellyn asked.
“There wasn’t much there from what I saw,” Conrad replied. “Nothing we couldn’t do without, anyway. Let’s just press on, see what we can find out.” They all nodded their agreement, and urged their mounts forward again, making their way slowly toward the smoldering remains of Baredenn, their hearts heavy and their shoulders slumped. Each wore an expression that was grim, but determined.
Aellyn’s heart was heavy as they trudged wearily back into town. It was completely unrecognizable as the thriving merchant settlement they’d rode into only the day before. She couldn’t understand how so much devastation could happen in such a short period of time, how quickly and completely things could change without warning or explanation. Most of the screaming seemed to have stopped now, she was thankful to note, receding with the onslaught itself, to be replaced by the urgent calls of impromptu rescue operations as townsfolk hurried to pull trapped friends and neighbors out of the wreckage and extinguish the many fires that still fed on the shattered timbers of homes and businesses alike.
A large, heavy water wagon came clattering noisily past them down the street bearing several frantic men, each yelling demands to clear the way or follow them as they made for a building down the street that was still wildly ablaze. Aellyn shot an anxious glance at Conrad as she turned her mare aside out of their path, unsure what to do. His brow furrowed as his gaze darted from the bustle around them and back to her, he only shrugged, leaving the decision to her. Her mouth twisted in an uncharacteristic grimace, but she squared her shoulders and urged her mare to a quicker pace, following the wagon.
The large wagon rattled to a stop in front of the remains of a large building just down the main thoroughfare. The building, which must once have been rather grand, Aellyn thought as she slipped from her saddle, was still heavily ablaze. The men that had rode in on the wagon now began to organize themselves, pulling out buckets and filling them with water from the large barrel that took up most of the wagon, rushed to splash water on the flames. Her gaze darting around, Aellyn tried to determine how best to help quell the blaze. With a start, she realized her feet suddenly felt chilled, and she looked down to the cobblestones to find a thin mist gathering there. Confused, she watched as the mist seemed to swell and coalesce. It carried with it the deep chill of winter, and as it gathered, it seemed to flow in a gentle current toward the flaming building.
She felt a sharp nudge at her elbow and looked up to find Conrad beside her, but he faced the opposite direction, his serious gaze fixed on something behind her. She turned to see what had captured his attention, and found the twins standing beside their horses. Dacyne clutched an amulet Aellyn hadn’t noticed before firmly in one hand while her other hand rested firmly on her brother’s shoulder, and chanted quietly. Her eyes were closed and her head was slightly bowed; her expression was gentle and her whispered words, though indecipherable, gave the impression of an entreaty. Aellyn could see a faint glow emanating from the amulet she held, casting the elf’s face in gentle relief. Meanwhile, Daelar stood limned in the same soft light that lit his sister’s amulet. His expression was stern, and his gaze was fixed before him, his hands moving in intricate gestures, tracing out a pattern only he could see. As he whispered the words of his spell, there came from the center of where he gestured a soft waterfall of mist that seemed to form out of nowhere to tumble in a stream onto the cobblestones, spilling out toward the conflagration. As it passed over and around their feet, the mist left a distinct chill in its wake, and when it made its way to the burning building, the flames that engulfed the dry timbers seemed to suddenly dim, the intensity leeching out of them.
Aellyn stood transfixed as she watched the mist slowly spread, wafting across the street in a gentle stream. She felt a sudden calm wash over her, as if the mist sought to reassure her as it passed, whispering a sweet melody into her subconscious, calming her fears as easily as it quelled the raging flames before it. Aellyn watched in silent awe as the tendrils of mist wound their way down the street, branching off into buildings and onto side streets. Where the mist spread, fires flickered and went out, leaving only glowing embers as evidence that they’d ever been. She looked back to the twins, finding them still standing there, chanting softly, but they looked more ragged now. Drained, somehow. After a moment more, Daelar’s arms dropped to his sides and he fell silent. The mist that had formed before him poured forth in a final stream, moving off to do its work. Dacyne brought the amulet she held to her lips, giving it a fervent kiss before tucking it gently back under the shining gorget she wore around her throat.
“That was incredible,” Aellyn breathed, staring in wonder at the twins. “How…” she began to ask, but struggled to form the words.
“Surely your father told you there was a time when my focus was the arcane?” Daelar asked. His voice was strained and his expression was weary as he looked at her. “I’m still capable of at least this much.” A wry grin twitched at his mouth, though the expression faded quickly. Dacyne rested a hand gently on her brother’s back, and she eyed him closely with obvious concern, but he waved her off and shuffled forward, coming to stand before Aellyn and Conrad. His once pristine robes were now tattered and dirt and soot clung to the hem. He seemed somehow more approachable now, Aellyn thought. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it on the road, if you wish,” he assured her quietly.
“Thank you,” Aellyn said solemnly, and it was clear from her tone that she was thankful for more than just his kind words. The elf put a hand to his heart and inclined his head in acknowledgment, but said nothing more.
The group turned then to survey the scene around them. The townsfolk had frozen in stunned confusion, much as Aellyn had, when Daelar’s mist had begun its work, but now as it dissipated, its work of dousing the flames complete, they seemed to return to themselves and began bustling around once more, calling for lost friends and loved ones, searching the wreckage of their homes. The business of setting things back to some semblance of normalcy had begun, and the four companions stood in the midst of it, wondering what to do next.
“I don’t think we’re going to get much information out of anyone right now,” Conrad said at last, folding his arms across his chest as he watched a young man climb into the wreckage of a building down the street, turning over burnt and broken planks in search of something or someone left behind in the chaos. Aellyn had just opened her mouth to reply when she was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a rather portly man in soiled finery who came running up to them, huffing and puffing. He stood before them, leaning a hand heavily on one knee as he gasped to catch his breath, the other hand, a jeweled ring on each finger, he held up to them, begging patience as he caught his breath.
“You—” he huffed, waving a hand at Daelar as he struggled to catch his breath, “Thank you,” he said after another moment.
“Are you… alright? Sir?” Aellyn asked, leaning in to search the man’s face.
“Magistrate,” the man corrected, straightening as he finally seemed to catch his breath. He adjusted and smoothed the soiled front of his brocade jacket, cleared his throat, and addressed Aellyn. “Magistrate Hale. Artin Hale.” He turned to regard Daelar again, “I wanted to thank you, for helping our town. It would’ve taken hours…” he trailed off, looking around at the smoldering remains that surrounded them.
“Happy to help,” Daelar murmured, his expression sympathetic.
“Magistrate,” Aellyn began hesitantly, placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do you… do you have any idea…”
“We should go somewhere private,” Dacyne cut in, stepping forward to put a strong hand on the Magistrate’s elbow. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”
The Magistrate led them to a small tent that had been erected in the town square to serve as a makeshift command post. Most of the buildings in town had either been completely demolished or damaged to such an extent that it was clear they were unsafe for occupation of any kind, and so townsfolk began throwing up temporary shelters along the streets to provide places to rest and coordinate clean up efforts. Aellyn was staggered by the swiftness with which the town seemed to respond to the crisis; she didn’t think Andrinport would have responded to such a catastrophe with the same aplomb. The very thought of something similar happening to her home chilled her to the core, and she shook the thought away before it could take root as she ducked into the tent behind the others.
The interior of the tent was bigger than Aellyn would’ve expected. The floor was covered with a collection of small rugs, and in the center stood a sturdy wooden table lined with benches on either side. The Magistrate took up a place on the opposite side of the table from the entrance and gestured for them to be seated if they wished. He remained standing, tucking his thumbs casually into the embossed leather belt that looped his considerable girth.
“What is it you wished to speak to me about?” he asked.
“The attack on the town,” Dacyne began, wasting no time. “Do you have any idea who might have done such a thing?” Aellyn watched the Magistrate carefully. He seemed taken aback by the question.
“You think someone did this intentionally?”
“Is fire from the sky a frequent occurrence?” Conrad asked sarcastically, drawing a glare from the magistrate.
“It was magic,” Daelar explained patiently. “Not so different from the spell I used to put out the fires. But it would require a great deal more power than your average mage could ever hope to possess, and it’s not the sort of thing one does on a whim. It would require planning.”
“Can you think of anyone who might hold a grudge against the town?” Dacyne asked. Hale sat then, considering their words. He folded his hands together on the table in front of him and shook his head slowly.
“I can’t fathom why anyone would want to do such a thing,” he said sadly, staring down at his hands. He rubbed his thumbs together nervously and he furrowed his brow, still considering.
“Was there a part of town that was more severely damaged than the rest?” Aellyn stepped up to the table, and Hale raised his head to regard her. Her expression was sympathetic.
“I’m not sure,” the Magistrate hesitated. “There hasn’t been an accounting of all the damage yet, though I expect the guards will bring word shortly.”
“We’ll figure out who is responsible,” she assured him.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but… why are you helping us?” Hale eyed each of them warily. His gaze wasn’t hostile, merely skeptical.
“I was born and raised in Andrinport, Magistrate Hale.” Aellyn replied, seating herself on the bench opposite him. “My family has frequent dealings in this town. My companions and I were here when the attack began. Members of our party have… gone missing.”
“You have a personal stake in this,” Hale concluded, nodding in understanding. “And what happens when you determine who is responsible?”
“We aren’t vigilantes,” Aellyn assured him.
“They’re unlikely to have the resources to contend with anyone who could be responsible for destruction on such a scale,” Conrad put in, looking to each of his companions in turn.
“We don’t, either,” Aellyn pointed out, turning to look up at him over her shoulder. “But we can send to Andrinport for help,” she turned back to the Magistrate. “The person or persons responsible will need to be taken there to face justice anyway. In the meantime, we can aid in the investigation.”
“So there’s no one you can think of that might hold some sort of grudge?” Dacyne asked again, pinning the Magistrate with a cold stare. “Nothing comes to mind?” Aellyn opened her mouth to chastise the elf for her rudeness, but she was interrupted before she got the chance.
“Ninu,” Hale said suddenly, his voice flat. Aellyn stared at him. His expression had gone blank.
“Who is Ninu?” Dacyne asked, her voice low and steady.
“An alchemist. She ran against me in the last election a few months ago, and she lost. She blamed me and the rest of the town, said I bought votes.” Hale’s voice was a low monotone.
“Did you?” Dacyne asked.
“No.” Hale replied simply, without a trace of heat or indignation in his voice. His gaze was fixed forward, but he didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular. Suddenly curious, Aellyn waved a hand in front of his face. He didn’t react.
“He’ll return to normal in a moment,” Dacyne said quietly.
“What did you do to him?” Aellyn demanded, spinning angrily in her seat to confront the elf.
“Only a simple spell compelling him to tell the truth,” Dacyne replied, unperturbed. Aellyn glared at her. “It’s a mild compulsion, and he’ll remember everything we’ve discussed,” the elf clarified. “If he truly didn’t wish to be cooperative, it would not have worked so easily.”
“What a great comfort,” Aellyn scoffed.
“We’re wasting time,” Conrad cut in. Aellyn shot a glare at him, but said nothing more. She turned in her seat to face the Magistrate once more.
“Where is Ninu?” Dacyne asked.
“I haven’t seen her,” Hale replied, his voice the same steady monotone as before.
“Where does she live?”
“In the apartment above her parents’ old shop on Dove Lane.”
“What does she look like?” Aellyn asked.
“Ninu is a halfling. She has straight, short blond hair and gray eyes,” Hale replied in a conversational tone. “She has a habit of wearing several plain metal rings on both hands, which I suspect is a habit she developed in the hope that it would make her appear more prosperous, though the effort is wasted. Everyone in town has known her family for years. They did a fair business while the shop was open, but they were never wealthy, and the shop has been closed for years now since her father died and her mother ran off.” He looked up at Dacyne. “You need not have compelled me, madam. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I just…” his expression turned sad as he looked down at his hands resting on the table before him.
“You didn’t want to believe someone you knew could do this,” Aellyn supplied sympathetically. Hale nodded.
“Do you really think Ninu might be behind this?” he asked nervously. It was clear the thought troubled him.
“We don’t know any more than you do, Magistrate,” Aellyn replied kindly, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his arm. “But we have to start somewhere, and right now, this is the only lead we have.” He nodded again, understanding. “If you think of anything else?”
“Of course, I’ll let you know,” he agreed readily. “I can see if there are a couple guards available, they can show you where Ninu’s shop is.”
“We should send word back to Andrinport,” Daelar suggested quietly.
“Yes, of course,” Hale readily agreed. “I’ll find someone to send a message.” He stood from the table then and left the tent in a rush. Aellyn wasn’t sure if he was in a hurry to complete his errand or to get away from them.
“You could’ve been a bit more sympathetic, the man’s been through a lot tonight, watching his town destroyed and his friends killed,” Aellyn murmured sullenly.
“He’s the Magistrate,” Dacyne replied coldly. “If he’s any good at his job, he understands the need to put feelings aside in the face of a crisis.”
Before Aellyn could reply, Hale returned with a young man, his stubbled cheeks smeared with soot, on his heels. In his hands, he carried a couple sheets of parchment, a pen and an ink pot. He placed the writing materials on the table in front of Aellyn. “Write whatever messages you deem appropriate,” he instructed. He straightened and met Dacyne’s eye, “I understand very well the need to put aside personal feelings, which is why I have not asked you to leave.” He turned his attention back to Aellyn. “This young man has a horse and can deliver your messages. I have a pair of town guards waiting outside to escort you to Dove Lane, or whatever may be left of it.” Aellyn nodded her thanks and turned to the papers in front of her. “If you’ll all excuse me, I need to see about coordinating efforts outside.” Hale sketched a shallow bow and quickly turned on his heel and exited the tent once more.
With a disgruntled huff, Aellyn began penning a missive to her uncle first. She briefly described the attack on Baredenn and their conversation with the Magistrate. She assured him of their safety, but made sure to explain that Rom, as well as her father’s family—she still hadn’t quite come to think of them as her aunts and uncles yet—had gone missing. She requested that if he intended to send them aid, knowing that he would whether she liked it or not, that he keep it limited to supplies and only enough staff to transport it. She also assured him that she would be sending an official notice to Lord Sindri on behalf of the Magistrate to request aid for Baredenn in their clean up, recovery and investigation. She blew carefully on the ink to dry it before folding the paper neatly and setting it aside, then began her next missive to the Lord of Andrinport.
This letter she wrote more formally in her capacity as a representative of House Mistwind requesting aid on behalf of the Magistrate of Baredenn. To him, she described the attack and the resulting devastation, outlining the need for supplies and personnel. Again, she blew the ink dry, neatly folded the parchment and set it aside with the other. She reached into the pouch at her belt then, pulling out a thin blue stick of wax and a large gold signet ring that bore the crest of the Mistwind family. Setting them on the table, she stood to get a candle. When she turned back to her seat, she saw Conrad had picked up the ring she’d set on the table and was examining it, his long fingers turning it slowly so it caught the dim light.
“It belonged to my grandfather,” she said quietly. He looked up then and met her eyes, his expression was somber. “He gave it to me before he died.” He held it out to her and she took it from him gently, her fingers grazing his lightly as their eyes held for a brief moment before she turned back to the table and took her seat on the bench again. She sealed both the letters, pressing her grandfather’s signet ring into the blobs of blue wax. “Can you read?” she asked the young man, looking up at him curiously.
“Uh, a little, ma’am,” he replied nervously, and she gestured him closer. She turned back to the letters, the pen poised.
“This one,” she indicated the letter in front of her, and quickly sketched her family’s name across it, then held it to be sure he could see it. He looked to the paper and nodded earnestly. “Deliver this to Mistwind Manor, to Lord Aldun Mistwind,” she said, handing it to him. He examined it again, then nodded again, looking back to her. “And this one,” she said, labeling it and holding it up for his inspection, “Deliver this to Lord Sindri Kell.” She held it up to him, and he took it, squinting at it. After a moment, he tucked both letters carefully into a small leather satchel he had slung crosswise over his shoulder. “When you arrive at Andrinport, let the guards at the gate know you’re carrying important messages and to whom they’re addressed. They’ll guide you. If you can, have one of the guards deliver the letter to Mistwind Manor and head straight on to Lord Sindri yourself. If not, go to Lord Sindri first and deliver the letter to Mistwind Manor after.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man replied with another earnest nod. He paused for a moment, and when it was clear no further instructions were forthcoming, he sketched a quick bow and hurried from the tent on his errand.
“Let’s get on with this,” Dacyne said, turning and exiting the tent. Daelar gave Aellyn an apologetic look, but only shrugged and followed his sister.
“She’s a barrel of laughs,” Conrad said with a wry grin, giving her a gentle nudge as he headed after them. Aellyn followed close behind.
Once outside, they found the promised guards waiting to provide an escort. They quickly retrieved their horses from where they’d left them nearby, and followed the two men off in the direction of Dove Lane, and hopefully, some answers.
When the guards escorted them to the old alchemist’s shop that was Ninu’s home, they were surprised to find the building seemed largely unscathed. The large glass windows of the storefront had shattered leaving the metal frames empty, and there were singes and soot stains scattered along the outer walls from the fires that had taken nearby buildings, but other than seeming somewhat rundown from before the chaos descended on Baredenn, the building itself was astonishingly intact midst a sea of other shops and homes that had not been so lucky.
They dismounted and tethered their horses at a nearby hitching post, though they had no real need to do so. The horses were all well trained mounts that would wait patiently for their riders, but it seemed they all needed the normalcy of such a simple task to set their minds at ease, even a small amount. The heavy, acrid smell of smoke was almost stifling now that the fires had all been put out, and while the sunrise was almost completely unimpeded by the clear morning sky, Aellyn couldn’t find any hope in it. She looked around as they slowly approached the front door of the shop, and she found her companions’ expressions to be as grim as she felt.
Reaching the door, Dacyne grabbed the latch and gave it a firm tug. While the rest of the building seemed to have been neglected over time, the latch and hinges were well oiled and the door swung open easily. The elf gave her companions a quick glance, then drew the bastard sword she kept strapped to her back. She hefted the blade, turning it deftly in her grip, lowering her arm until the blade hung casually at her side, making it clear she didn’t expect to need it but wanted it ready just in case. With a curt nod, she disappeared into the gloom. Daelar, meanwhile, had fished a small crystal out of a pouch at his belt, which he now held aloft. It began to glow with a gentle golden light. He spared a small, reassuring smile for Aellyn before following his sister. Aellyn looked to Conrad standing at her shoulder then. His expression was wary, but he motioned for her to go ahead, so she gave him a quick nod and followed after the twins, and he followed close behind.
Entering the shop, Aellyn found the front room was bigger than she’d expected. The walls on either side of the room were lined with cabinets and shelves covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. She could picture them in their prime, well cared for and stocked full of potions and vials of all shapes and sizes, carefully labeled and laid out for customers. Against the back wall of the room was a large counter, likewise covered in dust, and she could easily imagine a shopkeeper there, helping customers and minding the till. It was a shame, she thought, seeing it as it was now, neglected and empty. Daelar waited patiently in the doorway at the back corner of the room, holding his crystal aloft so that it would shed its soft light in the room where Aellyn and Conrad stood as well as the next. When they approached, he turned and walked on. Following him, Aellyn found a small stock room, as empty as the shop had been, its shelves and counters likewise covered in dust. There was a staircase against the wall to the left, which she assumed would lead up to the apartment above.
“Ninu?” Dacyne called from the top of the stairs. There was a sharp knock, and then quiet. “Ninu?” Dacyne said again, this time her voice was firmer and more demanding. Another knock, louder this time. Nothing. Daelar shrugged, looking up the stairs at his sister, and Aellyn moved in close to him, curious. Leaning in, she could see an impatient Dacyne standing on a small landing in front of a door at the top of the stairs, and she felt the light touch Daelar’s steadying hand on her back as he shifted over slightly to give her more room. She smiled her thanks up to him, until a sudden, loud crash brought her attention back to the door above.
In one quick, fluid motion, Dacyne had knocked the door in and stood just inside the threshold. Her posture was tense, and Aellyn wondered what could provoke such a reaction from the elf. Without turning, the elf called down over her shoulder in a language Aellyn didn’t recognize. Puzzled, Aellyn turned back to Daelar and found all the natural warmth and kindness in his expression had fled, his deep blue eyes were as cold and unfathomable as the ocean. He whispered something Aellyn didn’t quite catch, then held his crystal out to her.
“Take this,” he said quietly. “And wait here.” Passing her the crystal, he moved swiftly and silently up the stairs. His movements were flowing and graceful, though something in his posture betrayed a tension that Aellyn didn’t understand.
“What’s going on?” Conrad asked, coming up to stand beside her. She shook her head.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But something has them spooked.” He followed her gaze up the stairs, but saw nothing now but an open door and the bare ceiling it exposed. He made a quiet harrumphing sound and turned to begin searching the small storeroom, flipping impatiently through a line of cabinets along the wall. Aellyn watched him for a moment, silently appreciating the shape of him and the efficiency of his movements until she gave herself a mental shake, chiding herself for her foolishness, and turned her attention back up the stairs. Curiosity getting the better of her, she shot a quick glance over to Conrad once more to make sure his attention was elsewhere before she began making her way slowly and quietly up the stairs. Reaching the landing, she could see Daelar circling something in the room, his expression grim. He knelt and reached carefully for something, and as Aellyn came slowly into the doorway, she could see now why they’d asked her to stay below.
It was a body, seated at a small table. A pair of matching candle holders sat atop the table spread evenly on either side of what appeared to be a small stone. The candle holders each held blobs of melted black wax, the nubs of a pair of burnt out candles. The body, Aellyn saw as she brought herself to examine it, was a short female. Her clothes were simple linen and completely clean and undisturbed; they looked almost new, the dye still vivid and no patches or repairs could be found anywhere that Aellyn could see. The body’s face was frozen in a scream of either rage or terror, Aellyn wasn’t sure which, and a tracework of dark red lines wove their way across the skin everywhere it was exposed. It was these that Daelar had crouched to inspect, his long, delicate fingers moving aside the fabric of her clothes to see if the lines were visible beneath, and indeed they were. The hair on the body was clean and well groomed in a short blond bob.
“Ninu, I presume?” Aellyn finally said.
“We think so,” Daelar responded flatly, his attention still fixed on his inspection of the lines that traced the halfling’s body.
“Weren’t you told to wait downstairs?” Dacyne asked tartly.
“Leave her be,” Daelar replied in the same flat tone without looking up.
“Find anything helpful?” Aellyn asked, ignoring Dacyne.
“I’d have to perform a more thorough examination of the body to be sure, but hopefully that won’t be necessary,” he said, standing.
“What… happened to her?” Aellyn asked, eyeing the body with disgust.
“Backflow,” Daelar replied, finally looking at her. His expression was still serious, but the tension Aellyn had sensed in him earlier seemed to have gone. “It happens when a spellcaster tries to channel more power than they can handle. The energy needs somewhere to go, and if not properly directed, it can turn inward. This is the result.”
“So Ninu was the one that did this after all?” Aellyn asked, moving in closer for a better look. Seeing unfamiliar markings on the stone that sat in the middle of the table, she reached for it, but a hand, quick as lightning and with a grip like a band of iron around her wrist, stopped her, and she looked up sharply to find Daelar’s eyes boring into her.
“Do not touch that,” he commanded. His words were quiet, but his tone was as uncompromising as the tides. When it was clear she would obey, he released her. “It looks harmless, but I won’t know what residues still cling to it until I examine it,” he explained, his tone soft and conversational again. Aellyn nodded, rubbing her wrist absently. When she looked up to meet his eyes again, she found they held a silent apology, and she gave him an understanding nod. He muttered some words under his breath then that she didn’t understand, and suddenly the deep blue irises of his eyes seemed to swirl like a whirlpool until they engulfed his eyes entirely in a stormy sea, and he turned to the table then, gazing down at the stone there intently.
He raised his hands, touching a pale finger to a bracelet Aellyn hadn’t noticed before, and then he reached out and lifted the stone. He turned it over slowly in his hands, studying it closely from every possible angle. After a long moment, he huffed quietly and then without warning tossed the stone carelessly to Aellyn, who nearly dropped it in her surprise. He turned his attention back to the body of Ninu then, crouching beside the dead halfling again to study the angry red traces across her skin once more. “The stone is harmless now,” he said, his voice was deeper, more resonant, than normal and seemed to carry a low hum of power. “Its power spent.”
“Did you learn anything from it?” Aellyn asked quietly, looking down at it in her hands. Of course, she didn’t recognize any of the symbols carved into its surface. With a shrug, she tucked it into the pouch at her belt.
“Not much,” Daelar admitted. “But enough to know this halfling didn’t do this herself.” He stood then. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, the storm that had raged there seemed to clear, returning him to normal. “She was merely a pawn,” he went on, his voice restored to its usual timbre.
“So we’re no closer to finding out who was responsible,” Aellyn said dejectedly.
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