The Currents of Magic

Chapter Ten

At length Meyer exhaled and placed a hand on his pounding heart. Summoning his courage, he slid his hand across the small table until he found the room key. Then he quietly made his way to the door. He felt fear in his chest as he approached, but he also felt as though his senses were sharper than usual. He could hear the slightest creak in the floor, adjusting his weight before it turned into a loud noise.

And then he felt something.

Meyer stopped, and the feeling grew stronger. He slid one foot forward, and suddenly he was aware of a strange pulsating force ahead of him. He concentrated on the thumping force, and his normal senses dimmed and the pulsating grew stronger. He seemed to be feeling through an unfamiliar sense. Before him, a hazy yellow light appeared, and as he focused harder, he could see the light was made up of thin glowing strands, crisscrossed over the door. Meyer released the strange sense, and at once the light in front of him disappeared, his other senses flooding back. The doorway loomed in the darkness before him. Still, in a small recess of his mind, he could feel a faint beating, like the far off fluttering of bird's wings.

Meyer stood motionless, trying to make sense of what was going on, but already he remembered experiencing through the strange sense before. He closed his eyes, debating whether or not it was safe to leave the room. A sudden thought came to him and he quietly walked to the window at the back of the room. Even as he pulled the curtain aside, he saw that there was no way to climb down. The window looked out from twenty five feet into open darkness. He let the curtains fall back into place, and as he did, there was a very soft ring as the curtain slid against the supporting metal rod. The sound made Meyer's arm hairs stand on end, but it also made him gasp in realization: the shrill ringing he had heard when entering the room was real.

Meyer returned to the door, flush in optimism. He closed his eyes, letting the thumping in the recess of his mind grow louder as his other sense dimmed. Again the thin lines of yellow light, interwoven endlessly around the door came into focus. Without being quite sure what he was doing, Meyer reached out using his mysterious sense, but this time in reverse. Instead of letting sensation flow through him, he pushed out, reaching into a strange place. And as he pushed further into that place, Meyer became aware of a great openness. Yet there was movement in the openness. He pushed his awareness into the vastness before him. Rather than feeling a pulling or pushing, he felt a strange force flowing around him. Hesitantly, Meyer reached out more, and suddenly felt a stray wisp of force. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of the stray force and pushed it back into place. Just as he did, he felt a sharp pain, and his strange sense was extinguished.

Meyer stood staring at the door in front of him. He could no longer feel the faint beating. Even when he reached out with his newfound sense, probing for some sign, he found nothing. There was no pulsing, and no light around the door. Taking a deep breath, Meyer stepped towards the door. There was only one way to know if he had truly destroyed the spell that made a toe-curling sound whenever someone passed through the door. With a final glance behind at the sleeping Sarn and Gibb, Meyer inserted the key into the door. He almost expected to hear the piercing sound of the magical alarm, but there was nothing. Relief washed over him, and with a new sense of confidence, Meyer eased the door open, and slipped into the hall. He was free!

The hall was dark save for small glowstones which gave off a weak light, and Meyer hurried to the stairwell at the end of the corridor. He made his way down to the first floor, crossing through the foyer and dining hall, and into the entrance of the inn. He blinked as he entered into bright entrance room, and turned to see a tall desk with no one standing behind it. He approached the desk and looked over the high counter. Sitting on a chair, and slumped over an inset shelf was a young man. His hair was unkempt, and as Meyer looked at his face, which was pressed sideways against the shelf, he noticed that the doorman couldn't have been much older than him.

Meyer hesitated, unsure the best way to wake him.

"Excuse me," Meyer said.

The doorman stirred but kept sleeping.

"Excuse me," he repeated, this time much louder.

The doorman shot up, accidentally tipping his chair backwards. He spun his arms and leaned forward to regain his balance. With a dull thud, the front legs of his chair landed on the floor. He shook his head, looking quite flustered, then stood up, brushing hair back from his eyes and forehead.

"Good evening, sir, sorry about that—just a bit off balance—wasn't sleeping, no. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Burron," said Meyer.

The doorman tilted his head, his jaw hanging half open.

"There is a man named Burron staying here," said Meyer. "I want to know what room he is sleeping in."

"Oh, oh," said the doorman. "Right there, let me just find the guest list."

The doorman shuffled through a clutter of papers on the inset shelf, and at last came away with one that had been sitting on top the whole time. He placed the paper on the counter and started running his finger down the page muttering to himself as he went. "Burron..." he said. "Looking for a Burron..." At last he reached the bottom of the page.

"First or last name did you say it was?"

"Not sure," said Meyer, losing his patience. "Just look for anything that says the name Burron."

"Alright, alright," said the doorman and began running his finger over the list of names again. His second read through seemed to take even longer. Finally he finished reading the names and looked up.

"Sorry, chap. I think you're out of luck. No Burron."

Meyer grabbed the paper from the doorman and scanned the names. They were listed alphabetically by last name, and immediately Meyer spotted the name Burron, written next to the the number two-hundred and eight. Meyer threw the list onto the counter and dashed out of the room.

The second floor hallway was the same as the third floor one. It was dimly lit, and Meyer had to strain to make out the room numbers. Midway down the hall, he arrived at room two-hundred and eight.

Meyer knocked on the door.

Nothing.

Again he knocked, louder this time.

Still nothing.

He was about to knock for a third time when the lock clicked. Even in the darkness, Meyer could see the broad man standing in the door was none other than Burron.

"What do you want?" the man barked. "It's three in the morning!"

Thrown off by the Burron's harsh tone, Meyer froze.

"After I slam this door in your face, I better not be hearing from you again," said Burron. "Or I'll be doing more than slamming doors!"

Burron's hand reached towards the door handle, but Meyer started speaking, or maybe yelling—he wasn't sure.

"No! I need your help! I saw you at dinner. You were talking to a man named Sarn. The Blood Hunter. He's captured me. He's taking me somewhere. Please! Help me escape. I'll repay you—"

"Slow down, kid," interrupted Burron. His voice was still harsh, but it seemed less angry. "I may not support Blood Hunting, but that doesn't mean I'm going to get involved saving every stray captive. You're not the only Blood Captive to come though Urbana, and you're not even the first one I've seen try to escape... though you are the first I've seen come running to me."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help," said Burron. His tone was soft, but even in the darkness Meyer thought his face wasn't particularly apologetic. "If you want my advice, I'd say go back to your captors and don't try to escape again. You won't be able to make it home through the Outlands on your own, and your captors will find you before you get far anyway. If it makes you feel better, most captives end up having pretty good lives where they're taken. Maybe even better than they would have stayed in the Outlands. Course, that's the argument folks use to justify this crooked business, but I do think it holds more than a grain of truth. Good luck, kid."

Before Meyer could respond, Burron closed the door.