Ritual Misbehaviour
30. September 2020
Breakfast at the university was a lavish affair that explained why the inhabitants here had grown soft and weak. Naturally, Crispin loved it.
The cafeteria bustled with students and faculty sitting and fetching food and discussing the matters of the day. Arranged along one side of the hall was a crowded table of various breakfast platters above which gleaming silver spoons hovered ready to serve. We followed the lead of the other students in holding out our dishes and allowing the magical spoons to heap out the food.
Crispin and Olive competed to see who could fit the most onto their plates. I enjoyed a small bowl of porridge and blueberries.
We sat with the faculty members, hoping to avoid the inane conversations of the younger students, but I quickly regretted this. Instead we were exposed to incomprehensible discussions of high-level conjuration and aspects of theoretical divination upon which Crispin unsuccessfully attempted to hold court. It was enough to put me off my porridge.
At Olive’s suggestion we began the day proper by attending a lecture: Conjuration 201. We followed our amulets to the lecture hall which was out on one of the middle limbs of the Avium. It was a dome-shaped room with a semicircle of tiered seating for students, an array of blackboards and lectern for the professor, and bookshelves containing course material at the side.
We found ourselves good seats in the centre of the hall. Olive unpacked her quill and parchment and arranged everything neatly on the desk in front of her. Crispin pulled out a bag of raw carrots he had saved from breakfast and began snacking.
“You know, my spiritual guardians are a kind of conjuration magic,” said Crispin, nodding sagely as some students seated ahead of us turned to investigate the source of the crunching noise. “It’s not so hard: I pray and they appear. Nothing more than that.”
“Just don’t demo it in class,” I said hurriedly. I worried what an eager group of students might convince Crispin to do.
At that moment, Rhys Birchwalker entered the lecture hall. The other students stopped chatting respectfully and Crispin choked on a carrot. I thumped him firmly on the back.
“Control yourself,” I hissed, “for Olive’s sake!”
Olive’s concentration, however, was unbroken. She gazed starry-eyed as Rhys began her lecture and hung on her every word. I stared ahead a fixed point and counted the minutes until it ended.
After the class was done we waited for the students to disperse before approaching Rhys.
“Professor Birchwalker,” I greeted her formally.
“The Defenders of Alderheart,” she replied warmly. “I am pleased to see you here expanding your knowledge. How did you enjoy the lecture?”
Crispin took a deep breath but Olive got there first.
“It was fascinating!” she gushed. “I have a lot to think about. And it made me think about something we read in the library yesterday, about how the Scorched Grove is connected to some powerful Conjuration magic.”
Rhys sat down behind her desk. “Yes, I suppose Conjuration magic could be related to an event which caused the Grove to exist. This is not the first time such a thing has happened: the Great Calamity. But it would take magic unparalleled, and a mage of unfathomable power.”
“How would we reverse such a thing?” I asked.
“Things don’t look good,” sighed Rhys. “But if Conjuration magic is responsible here then I would expect a conjuration circle to be involved. A large one, at that.”
“Do you go down to the library often?” I tried to make the question sound casual. Those missing pages were still on my mind.
“Rarely,” said Rhys. “I have all I need up here. And I like being closer to the open air.”
I nodded approvingly. It was nice to meet an academic who wasn’t allergic to the outside world.
“It’s just that we found a lot of pages missing from books relevant to our search,” Olive explained. “Do you know who might have done such a thing?”
Rhys looked shocked. “Did you inform the librarian?”
“Yes,” I said.
“He thought I did it,” said Crispin sheepishly.
“And did you?” asked Rhys.
It was Crispin’s turn to look shocked.
“We’ll keep looking,” I said. “Thank you for your help, Professor Birchwalker. We had better not miss our bridge.”
We returned to the library and were greeted by the watchful eyes of the librarian, Mordane Swiftgale.
“Let’s start today with Elemental Creatures and Forces,” said Olive to the group. “Can the servitor skeletons help?”
“No,” said Mordane. He stared suspiciously at us over the top of his spectacles. “They cannot read.”
“How about interns?” Crispin suggested.
“Not allowed.”
“Could you help?”
“I,” said Mordane, “have to compile a list of damaged books.”
I gulped. “Did you have one before?”
“No,” said Mordane with a final glare.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” I said, gesturing at Crispin.
“Be sure you do. He’s going down the wrong aisle.”
Crispin and I spent the next few hours taking turns fetching promising tomes for Olive who skimmed them through to find anything she could about summoning and sealing the Aspect of Fire.
On one such trip from the shelves to the desks, Crispin again heard a voice between the stacks.
Hey.
Crispin shook his head, took a deep breath, and continued down the aisle.
Hey you. I have information.
Crispin hesitated. He looked about cautiously. “About?”
Whatever you want. It’s in my pages. Anything you need, I got it.
“Can I get it without opening it?”
You can try.
“I’m not sure.”
I have the answers you seek. Right here on the shelf.
Crispin finally looked at the source of the voice. It was a black leather book bound with bronze and sitting alone on its own shelf. Gold letters embossed on its covered revealed its name: Vampyr. As he looked at it, the colour of the rest of the room drained away and the book filled Crispin’s vision. He noticed a closed eyelid on the cover of the book that seemed to twitch in the dim light.
“Hasn’t Crispin been a bit quiet?” said Olive, a few shelves over.
“We’d better check on him,” I agreed.
When I found him, Crispin was holding the book.
“What are you doing?” I exclaimed.
Crispin yelped and dropped it. It landed on the floor and the eyelid on its cover sprang open and rotated wildly in its socket. Two bloody prints remained on the book where Crispin’s hands had been, but even as we watched the blood dried and faded into the leather cover.
Touch me. READ ME.
The book flipped open and a flaming figure appeared on the open pages flickering brightly. As suddenly as it had opened, the book slammed shut again.
ALL THE ANSWERS.
“Don’t tell the librarian,” whispered Crispin as he fumbled bandages around his bleeding hands.
“Mordane,” I shouted, glaring at Crispin.
The librarian glided into the aisle. “I see you met Vampyr.”
“I can explain—”
“Not the most dangerous of our tomes, but hostile nonetheless.”
How dare you. I am an ETERNAL BEING.
Mordane blinked slowly. “You three should leave while I clean this up.”
Forced to leave the library we agreed to chase up on one of our other leads: the Divination professor Corvax Revayne. His office was at the tallest tower in the Avium and even after crossing the bridge we had to traipse up several flights of stairs before we reached the door with his name.
Just as I was about to knock, the door opened.
“The Defenders of Alderheart,” Corvax said respectfully. “I was expecting you.”
Crispin’s eyes lit up and he pointed at the word “Divination” on the door and waved his arms excitedly.
“He knew we were coming!” Crispin whispered.
“It might just have been your noisy armour,” said Olive.
“The Dean told us you have been having a problem with your auguries,” I began before our party’s bickering got on the professor’s nerves.
“I think a demonstration would be most illuminating,” said Corvax, “if you’d like to watch?”
The professor took a collection of black tiles with painted white runes and flung them into the air. The tiles clattered and rained down into a circle as an ethereal voice intoned two couplets of prophecy.
A black heart lies among white and grey
But in darkness it is hard to say
Who is friend, and who is foe?
The master weal, the monster woe
Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin took out his pot and bones and performed his own augury. The bones fell into a clear and detailed depiction of the Avium and, at their centre, the shape of a dark heart rattled ominously.