An eerie whistle echoed through the long, winding halls of the Magos Keep, but no one was there to hear it. No one excepting Lord Magos himself, who was locked in a profoundly deep sleep. The various guards and servants that occupied the grounds were too busy maintaining the grounds and keeping a watchful eye on the ominous gray skies, to mind the lonely whistle. So it went unheard.
What was impossible for all to ignore, however, was the resounding boom as thunder shook the Keep. It was almost enough to awaken Lord Magos--but alas, his slumber continued on. At the front gate, the gatesman turned to his small attendant, a fiery-eyed child, and jerked his head toward the path away from the Keep. "Get yourself home, Sard. And keep an eye to the skies."
Sard did not wait, jerking his head up and down in a sharp nod before he ran free of the Keep, headed toward safety. As he went, the gatesman muttered to himself, watching as a cluster of runes formed over the boy's head. A protection spell. Simple but effective. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but he had sat at this gate long enough, minded the skies long enough, to know when danger lurked. The boy would get home safe, that was all that mattered.
Another low rumble echoed overhead. Elsewhere in Vergessene, the 'folk were taking notice.
Storms like this were not common in Vergessene, not with the heavy glamours laid over the city and keeping the seasons and all tempestuous changes of climate at the hands of the Council-appointed Sky Mages. It was thus that even the youngest of the Weinenvolk, peering up wide-eyed at the storm-obscured aubade, knew that something unusual was occurring in their city that evening.
Zircon Magos had known from the very first flash of lightning across the sky that something had gone amiss, and he was not one to disregard his instincts. They were in fact a large reason why he had been elected to serve the Council in the first place--that, and naturally, nepotism. Although, the more that he considered it, it seemed less like nepotism and more like a twisted form of espionage on the part of his uncle--keep your enemies closer and all that.
Particularly since he seems determined to view my father and I as pawns.
His long strides took him to the Chimikos Tower in record time, like a dashing knight speeding along to save a damsel in distress. Only Marin was far from a damsel in distress, he was nothing like a knight, and the steady drizzle of rain had left him looking disheveled and windswept. Indeed, he looked far more like a roughened rogue than a knight as he stormed in through the tower doors, amber gaze as dark and threatening as the aubade above.
He stretched his senses as far as he could and heard nothing. Nothing and no one. A curse escaped his lips, realization crashing upon him.
Marin was no longer there.
His rapid ascent of the stairs felt like nothing and everything, time moving too slowly and too quickly all the same. The thunder was shaking the tower walls and the light drizzle from before had turned into a torrential downpour nearly the instant he had entered the dreadfully silent building, but Zircon observed all of this distantly. Numbly.
I've failed us. All of us. I've failed all of us again.
The arched door to her room was ajar, all of its contents on display. He had known from the moment he had entered the building that Marin was gone, but he had still craved the visual confirmation. Now that he had it, his mood darkened immeasurably more. As if in tune with his feelings, another earsplitting crash resounded from above. The storm was worsening by the minute now, as was the situation at hand.
A frustrated snarl broke free from his mouth and he shoved a hand through his hair, roughly. "God damn it, Marin. What's happened to you?"
He scanned the entirety of the Tower for clues, remnants of runes or malicious magic left behind, but there wasn't a trace of anything. In fact, even the normal wards to the Tower were strangely absent. He cursed whichever guard had been lazy enough to let them fall, stalking out the doorway and into the rain, with no notion as to where he was headed next. He felt erratic and out of control, two things that did not suit Zircon Magos in the slightest. He always had a plan, he was always ahead of the game--how could this have happened to him?
YOU ARE READING
Where Vines Don't Grow
Fantasy"Marin, come to me." In a swift motion he tilted her face up toward his and closed the gap between them, eliciting electrical tingles throughout Marin's entire body as his lips firmly pressed against hers. Though she tried to protest, yelling in her...
