Chapter 19
Marena’s hands pressed against his chest, and warmth seeped in where the cold had burrowed deepest.
Alsen lay on the stone floor, staring at the dome above.
The carvings on the ceiling swam in and out of focus, spirals within spirals, half-lit by his dying orb.
His body felt like something had wrung it out and left it to dry in freezing wind.
Every joint ached. His ribs screamed. The cold from overusing magic sat deep in his bones, a familiar unwelcome guest that had moved well past the extremities.
“Don’t move,” Marena said. Her voice was steady, which surprised him given how much she had cried since Sonja’s demise. The teal glow from her staff reflected off the dust still hanging in the air, making the whole scene look vaguely ethereal.
“I’m mostly fine,” Alsen managed, not believing himself.
The warmth spread through his chest, down through his arms. It didn’t restore his magic, only rest could do that.
It pushed back the worst of the physical damage.
Bruised ribs knitting. Shoulder settling back into something that resembled its correct alignment.
The taste of blood was fading from his mouth.
Across the chamber, Garrett sat against a pillar, checking a gash on his forearm.
He’d taken a hit from one of the walking statues during the melee.
His shield had a new dent that hadn’t been there yesterday.
He prodded the wound, winced, and wrapped it with a strip of cloth torn from his spare shirt.
Theron was on his feet already. He had been hit by at least two constructs during the fight, and he stood there leaning on his axe like he was waiting for a ferry. A cut above his eye had dried to a dark line. He hadn’t bothered to wipe it.
Luna sat on a chunk of debris near the far wall, legs crossed, examining the soles of her feet. Both her shoes were destroyed, only rags of them remaining around her ankles. She pulled the remnants off and tossed them aside without comment.
Garrett walked to Alsen. “How bad is he?”
“He’ll live,” Marena said. “The physical damage isn’t severe. It’s the magical exhaustion that’s the problem. I can’t do much about that.”
“I’m fine,” Alsen said, trying to sit up.
Marena pushed him back down with one hand. For a healer, she had surprisingly firm hands. “Two more minutes.”
He relented. From this angle, the dome’s carvings looked even more intricate.
The six-star formation sat at the apex, rendered in precise geometric detail, the concentric rings of text radiating outward like ripples in a pond.
He’d seen it before, in the smaller temple, on the shrines, in his spellbook margins.
But here, in the inner sanctum, it was rendered with a care and detail that suggested this was the original. Everything else was a copy.
The floating text still hung in the corner of his vision if he focused.
[LEVEL: 17]
Five levels from one fight. The architect had been worth a fortune in experience. He’d look at the skill tree later, when his head wasn’t ringing.
Marena pulled her hands back. The teal light faded. “That’s what I can do for now. You should be able to walk. No casting, though. You should also dispel the lights.” She motioned with her hand at the lights.
“Those cost way less than what I passively recover.” Alsen sat up, slowly this time.
The chamber spun for a moment, then steadied.
He took stock. His body ached, but it was the dull ache of recovery, not the sharp scream of damage.
Good enough. “Plus, they’ve got enough energy for an extra hour already. ”
He looked toward the far wall, where his final spell had carved a hole. The opening gaped wide, easily fifteen feet across, its edges glazed smooth from the heat. Beyond it, something glittered in the darkness.
Treasure. That had to be treasure. He stood up. “Let’s loot the vault.”
They crossed the sanctum. Luna recovered her throwing knives along the way and even found the spear. She spun it around, checking that the shaft was undamaged.
She braced the spear over her shoulder.
They got up on the architect’s platform and gazed upon the vault beyond the destroyed wall.
It was a sanctum.
The room stretched a few dozen feet across, a small dome filled with carvings, bookshelves, items, gems, and gold. They had stored their most valuable treasures in the sanctum.
Stone shelves lined most of its walls, most still intact, the rest collapsed into rubble from his spell. In the center of the room, a raised platform held what could only be described as an altar, though the details weren’t visible over the chest with treasures.
Gold coins filled half of the chest, their surfaces bright, untouched by time, stamped with symbols he didn’t recognize.
Alongside the gold sat weapons, a few in the chest, others piled around it.
Swords, spears, a few axes, most of them corroded beyond use.
But a handful gleamed, their blades unmarred, their edges catching the light of Alsen’s light orb.
Everyone headed for the chest. Alsen stopped himself and instead went to search the bookshelves. He needed knowledge, not trinkets.
Garrett went straight for the weapons. He lifted a sword, tested its balance, threw his current sword away, and put the new sword into the sheath. He started looking over the shields.
Marena raised her staff, whispering something.
Motes of green light scattered from her, hitting multiple objects around the room, including Luna’s sleeping bag, Garrett’s breastplate and new sword, and Theron’s axe.
All they hit shone green. “Those are magical items,” Marena said.
“None of them should be cursed… hopefully.”
Alsen had to figure out how to do that himself. Also, the spell missed Luna’s invisible bag, so that was a really good bag.
Theron crouched by the gold, not to grab it, but to examine the chest. He pulled a rotted plank away, revealing the contents underneath. “Gold is gold,” he said. “These coins are old, but they’re pure. Any exchange in Vellhorn would take them.”
“How much?” Luna asked, already at the shelves, scanning the contents with predatory focus.
“Well over a thousand. The gems look nice too. They seem to be pure. Not in Vellhorn, but in other cities, they will fetch a great price.”
Luna produced a grunt that could have been approval, but she wasn’t looking at the gold. She moved things around in the chest, lifting a runic symbol that shone with light from Marena’s spell. “This is something that can be used to enhance magical items, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Marena confirmed. “Any runesmith can use these runes. They are often ancient.”
“I’ll take my share in these,” Luna said, putting down her backpack. She stuffed the rune into it and then rummaged through the chest to find all the other runes.
Garrett pointed toward a pile of fabric by the wall. “If it’s about your sleeping bag, then those might be useful too.”
“I’ll check them out.” Luna remained focused on the chest, fetching the runes.
Theron put down his backpack too. “Needless to say, I’m in for the gold.” He started shoveling it into the backpack. “I’m taking care of Sonja’s family too. She has four siblings.”
Garrett and Luna each grabbed a handful of gems, so they got some when they had a chance. Marena realized what was going on and swiftly joined them.
Alsen ignored it all. Marena’s magic detection spell illuminated a tome.
He took that one and started flipping through it.
The symbols inside wrote history, what looked like spells, and depictions of the key motifs of their faith.
He sat down, reading. He ignored the larger texts.
Later, he was going to figure out a translation spell.
For now, the general themes interested him the most.
Marena drifted through the room, not touching much.
She stopped by a shelf that held ceramic vessels, some shattered, some intact.
She picked up a small clay pot and uncapped it.
A faint, herbal scent wafted out. “Preserved ointment,” she said, surprised.
“This smells like a healer’s balm. The good kind. ”
“Take it,” Garrett said without looking up. He was weighing a short sword in his right hand, testing the grip.
After he bagged the gold, Theron found a set of bracers deeper in the chest. Leather over a metal frame, sized for large arms, shining with Marena’s light. He tried one on. It fit. He looked at it for a long moment, then put the other one on too.
Luna got all the runes and went on to search the fabric. Some pieces fell apart upon touch, but she found three sheets of enchanted fabric, one a deep red, the other nearly black. She also found a belt that didn’t show magic. She tested it with her hands and strapped it around her waist.
Garrett didn’t find a shield, but he found steel boots, which he put on.
Meanwhile, Alsen stared at the book, frozen. From the earlier pages, he found the figure that displayed their god. Or, well, the goddess, with four horns and four wings. The other details of her figure changed, but the horns and wings remained.
On the page he stared at, it displayed the goddess casting a spell. The Twin Dawn of the Seventh Sun. The visual detail of the spell was undeniable. Two orbs, which spin around each other, accelerate to hit the target at an unpredictable speed.
Anyone who had ever seen the spell would instantly recognize it.
Fuck.
As he stared at the page, he looked at where he expected the spell name to be. He tried to map Twin Dawn of the Seventh Sun over the symbols and worked out how they worked.
The lines and curls in the symbols could be attributed to the Earthen alphabet. That gave him thirteen letters, including all vowels. He flipped a page back and realized that he could read the text now. His mind adapted to the new pattern, the text clear.
He frowned, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. It wasn’t supposed to work like this. He also wasn’t supposed to find a spell he cast in a book later.