Concordance Page 10

  “Will you help me translate the journal, or not?” I asked doggedly.

  Antherion tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed. “Set it there,” he said motioning toward and old tree stump.

  I did so.

  “Return in three days,” Antherion said, turning away, his massive form receding deeper into the shadows. “I’ll have it ready for you by then.”

  “Thank you,” I said, trying to sound as gracious as possible.

  A hard edge crept into Antherion’s voice. “I pray you don’t suffer in the end, Professor.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You have my pardon… and my pity. Go now. Go, and be damned.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Interlude: Bitter Logic

  Caiden’s hands were shaking as he cupped the goblet in front of him with his shackled hands. Some of the dark wine inside sloshed and spilled, trickling down his mouth as he upended the entire container.

  He could feel Captain Hastings’ eyes on him. For a long time, the man regarded him in silence. An acrid darkness enveloped the two, a tension so great that both men felt it weighing down on them.

  “Was he right?” Hastings finally asked.

  Caiden looked up with hollow eyes. “If only I’d known what I would lose. I would’ve packed up right there and then, and returned to Celosa for my execution. Even now, I wish I could go back and do that very thing.” He motioned with his shackles. “But here I am. Alive. So many don’t have that luxury now, largely due to my actions.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely fair,” Captain Hastings said, running his hand through his enormous braided beard. “However this ends, you’re just one man. Even if you were so inclined, you couldn’t stop the Endrans from pressing on into Vor’aj. They were warned by this, eh, Antherion, no?”

  “Logic doesn’t make the taste of death any less bitter,” Caiden said.

  “No, I imagine not,” Hastings said. He pulled out his pocket watch, flipped it open with his thumb for a moment, then tucked it away. “It’s late. If you wish, we can continue this in the morning. You must be tired.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I can continue,” Caiden said. “I don’t sleep much these days. Besides, we’re a long ways off from the darker parts of the story, and remembering the good times takes a bit of the sting away. So let’s press on, yes?”

  Hastings settled into his chair. “As you wish.”

  Caiden stood straight-backed. “Where was I?”

  “Antherion was going to translate the—”

  “Ah, yes, yes, yes,” Caiden said quickly, flittering his fingers. “Antherion told me to return in three days to pick up the translation. I told Magister Ross about my encounter with him, and she seemed to think it’d gone quite well, all things considered.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Binding Light

  That night, the only thing on my mind was the Corelight. Though I’d been set up in an extravagant villa uptown, I instead opted to remain in the Magisterium that first night and use some of their equipment.

  Magister Ross gave me access to Laboratory 4 on one of the lower floors, and free rein to use whatever equipment I needed. The laboratory appeared to normally be a classroom, as it had several rows of desks and chairs, and a blackboard near the back. In the corners were shelves stuffed with books and alchemy equipment.

  In addition, several locked shelves stood behind the instructor’s dais, each packed with alchemical solvents, potions, herbs, and inks. All meticulously labeled and categorized, of course.

  I’d brought with me all the material from the Shao Zhu, including the Corelight fragment, and set up a small workstation in the corner. The only light in the room was from a candle on the desktop, and the glow of the fragment itself.

  Though I’d had the shard analyzed at the Acamedria, I had enough analytical curiosity to want to inspect it myself—Magisterium alchemy equipment was much more refined. Of particular use was an enormous phase-contrast microscope, which I used to get a clearer picture of the crystalline structure at work in the Corelight fragment.

  The microscope was so large that I had to stand on a stool to see into the lens. When I did so, I didn’t see what I initially expected. The Corelight was alive with motion and movement. The structure constantly changed, warped, and moved, with new pieces being formed from pure energy.

  There is a fundamental law of natural physics: energy cannot be created or destroyed, merely changed from one form into another. Magisters, for instance, draw their power from the Arclight. Its power is immense and nearly perpetual. The Corelight seemed to be similar.

  I turned up the magnification, and peered at the crystal for a long while, occasionally scribbling a few notes, or making sketches. After several hours, I’d filled a small notebook with pencilings.

  “Let’s run one more test, shall we?” I muttered, setting my sketchbook down. “One more turn… and… there. Perfect.”

  A familiar voice called from the back of the laboratory. “Talking to someone?”

  I peered back and saw Magister Ross standing in the doorway, holding two metal cups.

  I was a little embarrassed, but tried to pass it off with a laugh. “Well, the life of an archaeologist is a lonely one.”

  Ross smirked. “I admit, there are times I yell at projects I’m working on, too. Engines, fuselages, boilers. My old teacher, Magister Calego, used to say: ‘talking to your equipment is fine, but if it talks back, get professional help.’”

  “I haven’t started hearing voices yet, so I think I’m sane for the moment,” I said.

  Ross approached, setting one of the cups down on a desk beside me. I caught a whiff of the contents: a strong, fragrant brew of coffee.

  “I figured you might still be here,” Ross said. “My morning coffee’s a bit of a routine. I don’t know how people live without it.”

  “Morning?” I said, a bit confused.

  Ross took another sip. “It’s oh five hundred hours, Professor.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “Five in the morning? But… but…” Had I really been there for six hours already?

  “There’s no shame in pulling an all-nighter. I admire your tenacity.” She gestured at the Corelight fragment. “Have you learned anything noteworthy?”

  I sighed, loosening my collar. “Noteworthy? Perhaps. Useful? Not especially. The fragment has a unique structure, one that moves and shifts in a way I’ve never seen before.”

  I motioned her to the microscope. She set her coffee down, and stepped up, focusing the lens for a moment.

  “Is it random?” Ross asked, turning the knob on the side.

  “It’s hard to say. When Antherion is done translating the journal, perhaps it’ll provide us with some clues. It would behoove us to know as much as possible about this before we reach Vor’aj.”

  The moment I finished my sentence, I heard a rattling sound, like a rock against glass. Ross pulled her eye away from the microscope, a surprised expression on her face.

  “Gods below,” she said. “What the devil was that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The glass broke.”

  I stepped up to the lens to get a better look. Sure enough, the glass above the fragment had cracked right down the middle. A wild thought passed my mind, and in a fit of curiosity, I spoke again.

  “Vor’aj,” I said.

  The fragment reacted immediately, shaking and even darkening in color. I stepped down from the step stool, not quite sure how to proceed.

  “It’s aware of us,” I mused.

  “You say that like it’s…”

  Neither she nor I finished that sentence, though I knew the words she was thinking. I was thinking it, too: alive.

  “We need to run more tests,” I said, a bit of excitement creeping into my voice.

  “Agreed,” Ross said, nodding. “Replace the glass. There should be extras in the second corner drawer, the one with the brass handle. I’ll get the radial spect
rometer; it’ll give us a better idea of the crystal’s composition.”

  I nodded without hesitation, and moved to retrieve the replacement lens. In the face of this new mystery, Amelia Ross’ stoic demeanor changed markedly. In that moment, she wasn’t a senior magister or the head of the Magisterium. She was just another academic, working with a colleague to understand a puzzle. It was endearing, but distracting, and what happened next would have a lasting impact on my life.

  In order to switch out the glass, I picked the Corelight fragment up with my bare hand. When I did this, I immediately knew something was terribly wrong. I’d handled the fragment with my bare hands several times before, and never experienced any discomfort. This time was different. This time, there was immediate and excruciating pain. So much so that I dropped the replacement lens onto the stone floor, shattering it. I flailed my arm wildly for a moment, trying to shake the Corelight fragment out of my hand. It wouldn’t budge.

  I grabbed my wrist, and squeezed, staring at the fragment. The fluctuations in the structure, which previously could only be seen under magnification, were now noticeable to the naked eye. I saw the crystal move and expand—and it began to dig directly into my flesh.

  “HELP!” I shouted as I felt every nerve in my body burning like wildfire. I dropped to my knees, and could feel my face was hot with tears.

  Obviously, there was little Magister Ross could do, and fortunately for me, the pain quickly vanished—the Corelight, however, remained firmly grafted into my right hand.

  My limbs were shaking and my vision was hazy as I wobbled to my feet. Ross helped me up, patting me on the back.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  “I… I don’t know,” I said, then held my right hand up.

  A small bit of the crystal was still visible, but the majority was buried deep inside me.

  “What the hell is going on?” I said, almost at a loss for words.

  Magister Ross wore her thoughts plain on her face. That might’ve been the first time I ever saw her look well and truly afraid.

  She answered honestly, her voice only a step above a whisper. “I have no idea. We need to get you to the infirmary.”

  _____

  With my hand still aching quite a bit, Magister Ross led me to the medical floor of the Magisterium. We ended up in a long room, with several dozen beds, each separated by a hanging tarp. Each bed was coupled with a small side table and a few sanitary amenities. Ross helped me to the bed nearest the door, and called for a nurse.

  It might surprise you to know that Endran medicine is not especially advanced, especially not in Endra Edûn. The reason is simple: the Arclight heals most any wound, and cures most any disease. For this reason, the infirmary was little more than a designated rest area for people to lay while they mended.

  However, the Arclight was not going to fix this problem.

  Fortunately, the Magisterium trained field medics for ventures outside of the Arclight’s radius. When it was clear that the attending nurse was well out of her league, Magister Ross sent for, according to her, the “best field medic in Endra.”

  To my surprise, that turned out to be Dennith Crissom. It struck me as odd that the rich, affluent funder of our Corelight Expedition had once been a member of the Magisterium. I could only guess as to how he’d acquired his fortune, but it did explain why he had such close ties to the organization.

  He arrived wearing a brown suit, silver cufflinks, and a leather overcoat that went down to his knees. He was dressed as if he’d just left a posh meeting, and smelled of wine and cigar smoke.

  After speaking with Ross, Crissom wasted no time examining me. He checked my pupils, my pulse, and even inside my mouth.

  “Hold out your right hand,” he said.

  I did so, and he pressed his thumb into the veins of my wrist.

  “I’m going to use my templar to get a better look at your insides. It’s going to be uncomfortable. Try not to move.”

  I nodded, and he dug his fingers in deeper into my skin. When he did this, a soft, light glow emanated from his fingertips. This lasted for the space of three breaths, and he released.

  He didn’t look pleased about the situation. “It’s completely joined with his hand,” he said bluntly.

  “Can it be removed?” Ross asked.

  Crissom shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not just buried there; the bones and muscles have rearranged on a base level. They’ve fused with the crystal itself, and bits of crystalline matter have entered his bloodstream.”

  “You can tell all that just from touching my arm?” I asked.

  Crissom nodded a simple yes. “How did this happen?”

  “I… I touched it and… I don’t really know what happened,” I said, exasperated. There was a long stretch of silence between the three of us. When it became unbearable, I looked up at Magister Ross. “What do we do now?”

  She was a bit put off by the whole situation, but had begun to regain her stiff composure. “What else can we do? We proceed as planned.” She straightened her bifocals. “It looks like your presence will be even more essential than we previously thought.”

  I stared at my palm. The Corelight was in the very center, shimmering like a tiny star. I stared at it, wondering exactly what I’d gotten myself into.

  Ross’ words broke my concentration. “For now, I want you to stay here for observation,” she said.

  I stood. “But I need to continue my research. Now more than ever.”

  She waved her hands in a calming motion. “Just for a day or two. In the meantime, I’ll have whatever you need sent here. There’s no way to know what effect this binding will have on your body—I’ve never seen anything like it. We need to be cautious. Agreed?”

  I nodded hesitantly. She was right, of course. “Agreed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Librarium

  I remained in the infirmary for forty-eight hours before the nurse gave me leave to go. The Corelight in my palm caused me no more discomfort after that, but it held a constant “charge” that was very distracting.

  My predicament made me more anxious to learn everything I could about Vor’aj and the Corelight. To do that, I finally visited one area of the Magisterium I’d dreamed of since I was a schoolboy: the Librarium.

  To be clear, the grand library back at the Acamedria was magnificent and serviceable. You could spend decades searching through it, and not read everything it had to offer. There were books from bygone eras, in hundreds of languages, many of them completely untranslatable.

  The Magisterium had an archive of books too, which they called the Librarium. It was actually a separate building from the tower itself—a large, octagonal building offset from the main structure. From the outside, it didn’t seem terribly large, but as I would learn, it had countless subfloors that went deep underground. The levels aboveground held tens of thousands of common books, mostly used by Magisterium recruits and artificers studying and training to one day be magisters.

  The ceiling of the Librarium was tempered glass that allowed light to shine in from overhead. The skeletons of great winged beasts hung from the rafters, overlooking long tables where recruits studied and whispered amongst themselves. Magisters generally struck me as a disorganized lot, but the Librarium itself was quite orderly. This might’ve been due to the fact that the woman running it was not a magister at all.

  Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been fine grabbing any old book and losing myself in it for hours. This time, however, I was looking for something specific. In the center of the main lobby was a circular desk. There were three people in the middle of it: two young men, and an older female librarian. The woman had narrow blue eyes and thick, curly hair that had begun to turn gray. She was an older woman, perhaps in her fifties, and clearly took pride in her appearance.

  She was scribbling into a huge, open ledger in front of her, occasionally dipping her quill into a nearby inkwell.

  When I approached he
r, she glanced up at me. The frame next to her read “Moira Emmeret – Head Librarian.” I smiled at her, and she nodded to me expectantly. “How can I help you?” she said, pleasantly enough.

  I reached into my pocket and retrieved the tiny, scrawled note that Magister Ross had given me. It bore her seal and signature, and authorized me to view any texts in the Librarium that I wished. Normally, such things were reserved only for members of the Magisterium. Moira inspected the note thoroughly, even going so far as to place it under a large magnifying lens connected to a metal arm coming from the desk.

  She moved her lips as she read. I waited patiently, feeling somewhat like a schoolboy waiting to be picked up on the roadside.

  The note simply read:

  Moira,

  The bearer of this note, Professor Caiden Rycroft, is an emissary of the Celosan Acamedria. By royal command, he is to be given full access to any texts or treatise he wishes, including the Tombs below.

  This involves the special project we discussed before.

  Some items may need to be checked out indefinitely. Please see he is accommodated with all due courtesy.

  Magister-General Amelia Ross

  Head of Artificing

  When she finished, she didn’t seem particularly happy.

  “Why am I only hearing about this now?” she asked, though she didn’t seem to be speaking to me. It seemed more of a general, exasperated question. She scratched her thinning eyebrow, and tapped her finger on her desk before giving a reserved sigh. “Very well, what books are you looking for, Professor?”

  “Any information you have on something called the ‘Corelight.’ Specific references, please, if possible.”

  It wouldn’t be right to say that Moira’s eyes widened. It would also be a mistake to say she seemed surprised. No, she did not wince, nor did her eyes squint. But there was something about her that changed a nearly imperceptible amount that let me know she found this request very odd.