Gathering Storm
3. March 2024
Back outside in the Scorched Grove, we gave Crispin a wide berth. He swung the ice staff Borealis around, tentatively at first and then with ever-increasing gusto.
“Is that really the way to attune to powerful magical artifact?” I whispered to Olive as Crispin pranced around.
Olive looked puzzled. “I—egg?”
“Right,” I replied. The poor Jerbeen was probably concussed after saving Crispin from a boulder in the last fight.
“I think I’ve got it,” said Crispin. He swung the staff in a low arc and then jabbed it forcefully towards the sky. Nothing.
“You can practice on the way back to Alderheart,” I said. “We’ve got the staff. Now it’s time to gather our forces.”
“Wait just a second,” Crispin murmured, performing the motions again. “It must be all in the wrist…”
There was a rumbling crack like ice breaking beneath our feet, and a cold flash of white lanced from the staff and into the sky. A fine dusting of snow fell around us but quickly vanished into the dry parched land.
“Wow,” I said.
“Egg,” Olive agreed.
By the time we arrived back at the gates of Alderheart, Crispin had coaxed almost every conceivable effect out of the Borealis. When he wielded it, the air grew cold and the ground around him froze. He could conjure small snowstorms and bolts of frost that hit, for the most part, his intended targets.
The Perch Guard let us in without question, though their usually unruffled demeanour was broken as we entered the city. Lit torches hissed as the Borealis’ aura snuffed them out and Crispin’s paws left frosty footprints in a trail behind him.
We wound our weary way up through the branches to the canopy market. There we found Susan’s tent, distinctive by its midnight blue cloth speckled with stars.
“Susan will be expecting us,” said Crispin just before we ducked inside.
The little Hedge witch was stirring her cauldron in the center of the tent. Other customers browsed the trinkets and scrolls on display.
“There they are!” said Susan happily.
“We did it!” said Crispin.
“We’ve got the staff,” I said with a grin.
Susan’s eyes widened. She began to usher the other customers out of the tent.
“Would you look at the time, we’re closed for the day! Everyone out!” Then, when we were alone. “Well, where is it?”
Crispin produced the staff and bowed, his right arm bent and his left pointing out straight in the same direction. The staff pulsed white and we were suddenly covered in a puff of powdery snow.
“That aura, it feels powerful,” said Susan reverently. “I’ll get Odwald.”
“It feels c-c-cold,” said Crispin, teeth chattering.
“ODWAAALD,” Susan screamed, making us all take a step back. She smiled sweetly. “He’ll be right down.”
We could see tears welling in Odwald’s eyes as he held the staff.
“It’s incredible,” he breathed. Then he held it out to Crispin. “But alas, it is not my treasure to wield.”
“Egg,” said Olive compassionately.
“She’s not well,” Crispin explained.
“We need to know where to use this, and how,” I said. “Odwald, we need your knowledge of the ritual to seal away the Aspect of Fire.”
“Indeed, I suppose I am the leading expert.” Odwald grimaced. “We need to return to the site of… its release. With three powerful mages.”
I looked at Olive and Crispin. Crispin nodded confidently. Odwald shook his head.
“You are powerful, yes, but not in the kind of magics we will be weaving in this spell,” said Odwald. “And anyway we will need your strengths elsewhere.”
“Then who?” I asked.
“Myself, of course, as the expert,” said Odwald matter-of-factly. “And Susan. We’ve already discussed how we might best combine our powers. But as for the third… This might be difficult. The most capable mage I can think of would be Dean Windsworth of the Avium.”
“Oh,” Susan gasped quietly. She bustled off back to her cauldron.
“Yes,” said Odwald resolutely. “It must be the Dean. He arrived recently in Alderheart to advise the Birdfolk Council. I know he won’t like it, but you must persuade him to work with me on this.”
“We’ll go to Speaker Bita,” I said. “She trusts us.”
“And now we have the artifact,” Crispin added, spinning it nonchalantly in one hand.
The staff glowed bright, shivering light gleaming like stars in Odwald’s dark eyes. Crispin’s neck jerked backwards and his arms flew out on either side. Ice blasted from the tips of his paws and in a torrent from his mouth. We ducked for cover as the air in the tent whipped and swirled into a blizzard and burst the tent apart, ripping the stitching and blowing pieces of fabric to the four winds. Humblefolk yelled and children shrieked with delight as snow fell heavily on the marketplace.
“I think we should go,” I panicked. “Right now.”
We managed to leave quickly enough to avoid the attention of the Perch Guard. As we made our way through the crowded streets, we heard music coming from almost every corner, melodies overlapping and competing for space. After a while, Olive stopped in front of a poster fixed to a large noticeboard near the Council chambers: Battle of the Bands. She pointed at it and smiled.
“Are you sure you’re well enough to take part in something like that?” I asked gently.
“Egg,” said Olive firmly.
“Okay,” I said. “I can’t argue with that.”
Being the Defenders of Alderheart got us all the way through to the fine offices of Speaker Bita herself with barely a wait. Inside her office, everything was clear and neat and clean and orderly. A harsh contrast with the chaos we knew was approaching outside.
Bita fixed us with a keen gaze as we sat down in front of her desk.
“Welcome, Defenders of Alderheart,” she said sharply, with a little less of her usual warmth. “I see you have returned from your exploits at the Avium.”
Out of habit we looked to Olive.
“Egg.”
Speaker Bita frowned.
“In other words,” I cut in before Crispin could begin. “Last time we were here, you charged us to find a way to seal or destroy the threat from the Scorched Grove. I am glad to report that we have done more than that.”
“Indeed,” Speaker Bita said. “I have already spoken with Dean Windsworth here in Alderheart. He has told me all about the Aspect of Fire and the chaos you unleashed in a house of learning.” She narrowed her eyes. “You were meant to be heroes, representatives of Alderheart, not agents of chaos.”
“If you know all that,” I said, “then you must know that only a powerful magical artifact can seal it away. An artifact that we have already obtained.”
I looked at Crispin.
“Carefully,” I said.
“How—?”
“Very.”
Crispin produced the staff once more. It glowed gently and chilled the air in the office. A glass of water on the desk froze in a delicate pattern.
“The Borealis,” I said.
It was Speaker Bita’s turn to be astonished. “How—?”
“We had help from an unlikely source: Odwald Ebonheart.” It was risky, I knew, but we couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. “His research helped us find the only magical item powerful enough to face this threat. And his expertise will be crucial in leading the ritual to seal away the Aspect of Fire for good.”
Speaker Bita leaned back in her chair.
“Once again, you have come through in our darkest hour,” she said. “I should not have judged you so quickly. You certainly get results. If we have no better option, then so be it: we must work with this renegade. Is he in the city?”
“Yes,” I said with relief. “But we also need the help of Dean Windsworth.”
“The Dean may be a harder sell,” she said. “Is there no-one else?”
“Odwald asked for the Dean specifically.”
Speaker Bita sighed. “Then you had better speak to him immediately. You’ll find him at breakfast in the guest quarters.”
“Eggs?” asked Olive excitedly.
“Yes,” said Speaker Bita. “I imagine so.”
“Best behaviour,” I said to Crispin as we entered the guest quarters.
The Dean was indeed contentedly tucking away eggs for breakfast when we came in and disturbed him. He brushed toast crumbs from his robes and stood formally to greet us, but his expression was grave.
“Eggs,” Olive confirmed.
“The Defenders of Alderheart,” he said with a level tone. “Or, from another perspective, The Recently Expelled Students.”
Olive seemed preoccupied with her own reflection in a large mirror hanging on the wall. She flexed her muscles and posed. I left her to it.
“Dean Windsworth,” I greeted him with the politeness he had withheld from us. “Allow Crispin to explain.”
Crispin proudly raised the Borealis. The sudden chill in the air was unmistakable.
“Oh,” said the Dean, his eyes wide. “Surely it’s not possible.”
“I feel we must apologise again for our actions at the Avium,” I said, trying to use the Dean’s astonishment to our advantage. “I hope this goes a little way into regaining your trust.”
“The Borealis,” said the Dean, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was sure it was just a legend. But here you have it.”
“It’s certainly powerful,” I said, looking at the staff warily.
“How did you find it?”
“We couldn’t have done it without the foremost expert in the Aspect of Fire.”
The Dean froze for a moment. “Are you speaking of who I am thinking of?”
“Yes,” I said. “Assuming you are thinking of Odwald Ebonheart. And he has requested you specifically to help him with the sealing ritual.”
To my surprise, the Dean simply nodded.
“Not all of Odwald’s notes were destroyed,” he explained, sitting back down at the table. “After studying them, I have to admit that I reached similar conclusions. That does not excuse Odwald’s actions, of course. But I am willing to assist him.”
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Who is the third?” asked the Dean.
“Sorry, what?”
“The third mage? I know Odwald and even he wouldn’t be reckless enough to attempt this as a duet.”
“A very friendly seer,” Crispin piped up, sensing that the Dean’s attitude towards him had improved. “We’ve met her lots of times and there’s nothing suspicious about her and her beetle at all. Her name is Susan.”
“Oh,” said the Dean and puffed up his feathers. “Susan, eh? Well, well.”
“Do you two know each other?” asked Crispin. “Because she also—”
“Synchronising the spells will be more difficult with three,” the Dean mused. “But Susan is a very powerful witch. A bit prickly, heh, but I am confident in our abilities. You had better send them to me. We have much to discuss.”