Chapter 19
When the sixth adventuring party in a week turned their back on Mount Vengeance, Ainsworth was truly at the end of his tether. “I did tell you this would happen, all those weeks ago…” Honey muttered by the door as she waved the jovial party goodbye.
Ainsworth rubbed his temples, hoping to ward off an incipient headache. “You did indeed. But I truly thought it would be a numbers game.”
While the Transportation Circle was not yet in operation—there was still no word regarding Ainsworth’s application—more adventurers had gotten wind of the Misnich Inn and Mount Vengeance thanks to Ainsworth’s marketing campaign. The bravest, heartiest adventurers had finally arrived!
And they all, as usual, turned away from the mountain the next day, no matter how much Ainsworth begged and pleaded with them to follow through on their quest.
That afternoon, the staff and Ainsworth had a rare lunch table to themselves in front of the hearth.
The whole staff converged, even Alvea after she had finished up in the kitchen, to catch up on the events of the previous days.
It had been a while since they all had time to eat together; for the first time in weeks, there were no other guests or budding adventurers at the inn.
“Better eat quickly before new ones arrive,” grumbled Bren as he shoveled bread and cheese into his mouth.
“It is nice to finally take a breather,” Ruraidh said, his posture seeming to seep relief.
Ainsworth winced. He had probably caused more work for Ruraidh, Alvea, and Quiddle than the rest combined.
At least he had created a little less work for Ashe; the adventurers who visited tended to assist with any beastly incidents, and several had even tried to recruit her to their group.
“On our next supply run, we can really splash out on the goods, though.” Honey winked at Ruraidh. “Scented candles, new bedspreads…”
“Oh!” Spin exclaimed. “A new watering can?”
Honey laughed. “Of course! As many as you need.”
“I’d like some new trousers,” Ashe mused after a sip of ale.
“You’re quiet, Gladsly.” Alvea nudged his arm with her elbow, almost causing him to spill his tea. “Contemplating your next book chapter?”
“Ah, no, actually,” he said. “I’m thinking about this place. And what causes people to turn away from the mountain.”
Ashe frowned. “You’re not accusing us of anything again, are you?”
“No! Never!” Ainsworth exclaimed. “But I think…I think something is up. Whether it’s the land itself, or perhaps…
the dragon?” He had been reflecting on the matter all morning, and it could no longer be called coincidence that every single adventurer had turned away from the mountain, no matter what they all insisted.
A heavy silence followed his words. Bren cleared his throat. “Aye? And what makes you think that?”
“It just…well, it cannot be a coincidence!” Ainsworth said. “Traveling so far, coming so tantalizingly close to glory and to achieving your goals, and then just…giving up?” He rose to his feet and walked over to the table where he had been working previously.
“Your point?” Honey asked.
“My point is that something has happened. Perhaps a previous adventurer set up a warding spell, or maybe the dragon has done so. To keep people away.”
“If there was such a spell, wouldn’t we be affected, too? And sent away? You recall that we set out to the mountain often, Ainsworth,” said Honey.
“Well, yes. That’s why this puzzles me so greatly!” Ainsworth sighed, flipping through one of the old guest books. He was sick of remaining stagnant when it came to the adventurers. He had to do something. “I believe I can at least determine if some sort of magic is at work in the vicinity.”
“Really?” asked Quiddle.
Ainsworth nodded. “You see, as part of my education, I was trained to recognize signs of sorcery. Oh, sometimes it’s obvious things anyone can see—wards, runes in strange places, gemstones where there shouldn’t be.
But other times it is more…subtle. The slight change in soil acidity, the wavering of the light, the crackle of the air.
I have already searched almost every inch of this inn—except for your rooms of course!
—to determine if any such spell has been placed within this building, but my findings suggest that none has.
And thus, I have taught myself a detect-magical-interference spell!
” Ainsworth was unable to hide the pride in his voice.
This was thanks to a small Skarrow spell book he had brought with him, to help with the spells he could manage and to perhaps learn a few more.
There were other helpful spells in there, too, like how to warm water and how to identify which items held magical properties.
His dreadful affinity for magic meant that such spells were more bother than they were worth, but after studying the detect-magical-interference spell for a week, he could just about do it—and it would very much be worth it for his research.
He continued on boldly, despite Quiddle seeming to nod off in his seat. “With my new spell, I can find out if a previous adventurer has warded a larger area around here, or even if the dragon is sending a spell our way. Between that and my own ability to determine magic…”
“You’re going to search the whole mountain range?” Bren asked, doing nothing to hide the skepticism in his voice.
“No, but I have a proposition.” Ainsworth brought out a map of the range he had found in his attic archive. A few small tears around the edges meant the republic side of the range suffered, but the map was a thorough account of the Dubhrach Mountains from the kingdom’s side.
“What are those marks?” asked Quiddle, finally taking a bit of interest now that Ainsworth had provided a visual aid.
The lad referred to five points Ainsworth had marked around the map; he had sketched a pentagram linking them, with the Misnich Inn sitting in the middle of it.
“I have marked here the spots where I must place wards to activate my detect-magical-interference spell.” Three of the spots were on the land around the inn, one heading back toward Wenslykirk.
Two, however, would need to be placed on the lower slopes of Mount Vengeance.
“My journey will also allow me to search for other signs of magic that may be present. Once I have set the five wards, I can trigger my spell. It will tell me if anything is targeting us from any direction. Depending on which ward triggers when I activate the spell at the final point”—he tapped one of the wards set on Mount Vengeance—“I’ll know which direction the interference is coming from. ”
“And…if it doesn’t tell you anything?” Honey asked, frowning.
Ainsworth threw his hands in the air. “In that case, I am out of ideas, and I will have to conclude that I will never quite understand what happens here—or perhaps I’ll have to enlist some help from my colleagues.
My book could also be adapted to describe the curse and leave it as a mystery.
” He sighed, thinking of the funding council’s interest in his book.
“It would not be what I wished this book to be, but many academics have to be flexible when circumstances foil their research plans. I must do so, too.”
“Oh, how brave of you,” said Ashe. Her deadpan delivery would make anyone who did not know her feel stung, but Ainsworth was used to her ways by now.
“Why does it have to be so far?” Ruraidh asked. “I mean, it would take you at least a week to travel around to all these spots. Can’t you just set them closer to the inn? Make a smaller connection?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked, Ruraidh,” Ainsworth said, although he was not.
“A couple of reasons. First and foremost, I wish to explore more of this territory and seek physical signs of magical interference, like those I mentioned previously. The other reason…” He sighed.
“Is that I am not an accomplished enough magic-wielder to use such an acute, targeted spell. The sheer size of the shape, and the use of seunore binding the wards to the ground will help me harvest enough magic to use the spell in the first place. There’s power in the shape, and this is the only way I can be certain the spell will activate accurately.
” It was fairly humiliating—but it wasn’t as though anyone at the inn was an adept sorcerer, either!
“Ah, so you believe the Matron Below bestows us magic, since you’re using the land to power your spell?” asked Spin.
“Well—” Ainsworth started, about to give a diplomatic, scholarly answer suggesting that it didn’t matter whether it was the Matron—in either face—who provided magic, or if it was a natural phenomenon; the point was, it was there for the taking.
But Bren interrupted. “Do not get Gladsly, of all people, started on that. We’ll be here for a week before he even sets out on this quest of his.”
“You know,” said Honey, leaning over the table to peer at the map, her hair brushing the parchment. “If you had just believed us—believed me—when we told you about folk turning away from the mountain, you could have tried something like this much earlier.”
“Yes, thank you, Honey; aptly observed,” replied Ainsworth, folding his arms. “My own stubbornness is partly to blame for the delay in my research project. However, if I had not been so stubborn, I would not have been able to spend these weeks with—all of you.”
He had almost said with you, but he caught himself at the last second. Her gaze snapped to his, and her twinkling eyes suggested she knew exactly what he had been about to say.
“I suppose when you put it like that, we should all be grateful for your stubbornness,” she said, mouth twitching and eyes alight in a way that had Ainsworth suddenly wishing there were not a table between them.
He blinked, momentarily astounded by the thought. He was grateful when Spin, oblivious to the exchange between them, offered a change of subject.
“Why cannot you simply launch the spell from here?” she asked. “It would save you an awful lot of bother, Ainsworth.”