Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
The earth rumbled beneath Kane’s feet, and arcanum thrummed in the air. The Minor Apprentice squinted at the doors to Fort Solitude, murmuring to himself as he tried, for the third time that day, to unravel the pesky arcanum bindings that kept the slabs of metal shut and unyielding.
A few of his crew members halted their activities and cast wary glances at the entrance to the fort. This wasn’t the first time Afton’s attempts had shuddered the ground, but it was by far the strongest.
There was only one way into the library, and that was through that damned military stronghold. If Kane were in a better mood, he would appreciate how well-constructed the place was.
Weathered stone walls remained defiant against the forces of nature that would seek to undo them.
Built centuries ago to guard the precious library, Fort Solitude’s foundation was a masterwork of massive blocks of granite fitted so precisely that not even a blade could slip between cracks.
The outer walls were scarred by wind and rain, but retained their imposing height, their crenellations like broken teeth against the sky.
Rising from the center was the library—a tower of knowledge built six stories high, the outer walls pristine and unmarred.
A few unfortunate souls had tried and failed to enter the island before. All met the same fate. The dirt beneath their boots was likely mixed with the bone dust of past looters. But Kane would not meet the same fate. He was sure of it.
The hinges of the iron doors groaned against the pull of Afton’s Talent, but Kane knew better than to hope. The warping of arcanum had reached a breaking point.
One final shudder and everything settled back to the way it was before.
With a grunt, Afton caved. The doors remained mockingly shut and sealed.
“Still not enough,” Afton sighed, riffling through his book.
“I thought this was supposed to be the easy part, mage?” Kane grumbled through heat and frustration.
They had been working for hours, the same as the day before, and the same as the day Kane got to the island.
From what he could gauge, they were no closer to opening the front doors of the godsforsaken fort than they had been the first time they tried.
They were running on borrowed time, and that only added to Kane’s frustration.
“I said it would be easier.” Afton looked at the high peak of the tower. “It will be easier to get into the library. Though perhaps ‘less deadly’ is a better way to phrase it…” The mage trailed off beneath the glare aimed his way.
Kane didn’t have the patience to deal with Afton’s semantics. Easy, less deadly, he didn’t care. He wanted progress. And from the looks of it, there was no progress being made other than the failed attempts.
“What’s taking so long?” He’d skipped lunch, and the hunger only sharpened the hard edges of his mood. Flame flickered to life in his palms and licked at his fingertips.
“If you set the place on fire, we’ll be able to do nothing but watch the place burn to ash,” Afton cautioned. This wasn’t the first time Kane had thrown a small inferno at the door. They barely had time to dodge the recoil after it set off another ward.
“I didn’t rot in prison for your pretend kidnapping just so you could laze around.” Kane rounded on Afton, who remained entirely unaffected by his growing vitriol. Instead of deigning a response, Afton moved to the large iron doors and pressed his palms against the metal.
“It’s been barred from the inside, and I can feel the traps that await us in there.” Afton stepped back and scanned the large grey walls. Small windows lined the top, protected by metal bars to prevent scaling and entering.
“Look.” Afton returned to Kane’s side, raising his hands much too close to his face. Kane flinched as his thumbs continued their path to his eyes.
“The fuck are you doing, Afton?” Kane was ready to aim a rather large inferno his way.
“I’m showing you what we’re up against.” Afton sighed. “I’m an enchanter, remember? I can see the threads of arcanum as I work.”
Kane glared but didn’t move away while Afton brushed the pads of his thumbs just under Kane’s brow. There was a slight tingle against his skin, but then he could see it.
Shimmering light danced around the fort, weaving intricate braiding patterns against the walls.
A few of the arcanum threads connected to things beyond the doors, likely the traps Afton was talking about.
Kane took a moment to marvel at the splendor of magic.
Most could only feel the threads of arcanum as they used their power, but enchanters could see them too.
Well…the more powerful ones could, but Kane would never admit to that in front of Afton.
As quickly as the effect took hold, Afton’s small enchantment faded. The surroundings returned to their normal, threadless state.
“If I could actually see the knots inside, it would be a lot easier to undo them,” the mage continued. “But whoever put them up made sure to conceal them.”
Kane rubbed his chin in thought. “Maybe the diviner could help?” Some had the ability of second sight; they could send their minds places their bodies could not go.
“No. Inez will have no part in this. She’s untrained and still healing,” Afton snapped with unwarranted anger.
Kane held his hands up in defense, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is it that much of an offense to ask?” He knew a diviner from the Great North who charged an arm and a leg for a reading. He was mediocre at best.
“Yes,” said Afton with finality.
A tense silence fell between the two men. In the short period of time that Kane knew the Minor Apprentice, he had never seen Afton balk at using someone for his own gain. This struck a nerve, but it wasn’t worth Kane’s time to argue.
“They think you’re dead, by the way,” said Kane, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“What do you mean they think I’m dead?”
“I had to tell them something.” Kane shrugged. “The kidnapping story wasn’t getting me anywhere.”
“You know I have to go back there, right?!” Arcanum buzzed for a moment, fueled by Afton’s rage.
“Call it a miracle then. Make up some Everdawn story or something. Isn’t that better for your reputation anyway?”
“That wasn’t the plan, Kane,” Afton hissed.
Kane waved his hand dismissively. “Plans change. You should be thanking me.”
“Why the hell would I thank you?”
“There are more options for you now. You can go back with a heroic story or leave that place for good.” He eyed Afton with a knowing look. “I know you want to.”
“I said that wasn’t the plan,” Afton grumbled, eyes narrowed to slits. Kane could understand the frustration. He would have to make up a story, ensure it was believable enough to ease any suspicion. But in Kane’s opinion, leaving Tarth for good was a much better deal.
“I’ll rough you up a bit before you go back. Make it look convincing.” He gave him a grin and cracked his knuckles in emphasis.
“How did they react?” Afton rubbed at his temples.
“Honestly, they didn’t seem overwhelmingly sad. Didn’t even list it as part of my crimes. Guess they’re trying to keep it covered up.”
“I see.” Afton didn’t elaborate. He opened his book on the Principles of Arcanum and Runic Procedure and thumbed through the pages, mumbling to himself in thought.
From what Kane understood, mages only used spellbooks in the first few years, but Afton had gone on, and on, and on, about how useful spellbooks were for reference and safekeeping.
Apparently, the wards that sealed Fort Solitude shut were created from an older type of Talent.
One that infused the magic into invisible runes as a way to make them permanent.
It was tricky to undo and dangerous if done incorrectly.
To Kane, it seemed a lot more like an old northern tradition—imbuing Grace into inanimate objects through ruins and magical weaving, but Tarthans weren’t keen on hearing such things. For people meant to be the beacon of knowledge, they sure were plenty foolish.
Afton’s mumblings grew quiet, and Kane turned to see what took the mage’s attention. Erinna and Lila were prepped for the day and heading to the docks. Each held a bag of heavy supplies. When Kane turned back to Afton, he could swear guilt flashed across his face as he eyed Erinna.
“Don’t tell me you already mouthed off to her?”
Afton shrugged with a haughty harumph.
“Just try not to kill each other. Or at least wait until after we collect what we came here for.”
Afton puffed out his chest. “Please, you think she can hurt me?”
“Oh, I would bet my money on her, easily.” He hadn’t known Erinna for long, but he recognized that drive—a fire that refused to yield. She’d claw her way through dust and ruin if she had to.
Afton closed his spellbook with a loud snap. “We’re done here for now.”
Kane groaned and cursed himself. Great, they’d be back to code cracking for the rest of the day, and he hated being cooped up with the frustrated Minor Apprentice.
The deck was sprawling with people going about their own business.
A bosun whistled and hollered in the distance, but Erinna was good at ignoring things that didn’t involve her.
She had been trying for hours to make headway in her project.
Her shirt clung to her body with sweat as she struggled beneath the midday sun.
She scraped a chisel across the wood, drawing strength from her frustration.
She thought of Afton and his mere presence on the island.
The memory of their conversation provided a spark of strength and energy.
Her mind wandered to the captain—his infuriating smirk and cryptic answers every time she asked a question.
Then she thought of her father and faltered.
Anger and guilt swirled together into a nauseating knot. His secrets, that deal he made with Kane, the curse that left him helpless. How she left him at home, trapped in a wooden coffin, hoping that no one would come for him before she returned.