What Was Borrowed, Returned

Warm red flames danced as if alive; tiny little elementals given life by the burning fire, wisps of orange and red and yellow entwined and flickering happily without a care in the world.  Ezra looked on from a comfortable chair near the stone fireplace and wondered to himself thoughtfully what the flames burning in the hearth would have to say if they had voices that he could understand.  Would they be pleased to be alive on this cool summer night while they caroused on the heavy logs that gave them life, or would they mourn to know their destiny did not include journeys into dark and mysterious realms as the light of an adventurer’s torch?

Turning his attention back to the open book in his lap, Ezra resumed his study while the fire crackled and popped merrily. The title on the cover of the book read, Origins of the Fell Races, but he was finding a great deal more than simple origins of the unclean beings known to worship the gods and goddesses of the underworld. The page the book was opened to had diagrams of male and female goblins along with rough details about their physiology and social structure, what little there was to speak of. The trouble with books like these, of course, was that it was not always clear which details were directly observed by the author and which were inferred or gathered from second-hand knowledge, especially since nobody had seen a goblin or an orc in the world in many years.

A knock came from the front door, and Ezra looked up in surprise. Visitors were very rare these days, which was to say there had been none in maybe a decade. The home in which he sat lay in the valley between two high ranges of mountains and had intentionally been built so as to require anyone intending to knock on the front door to navigate some rather tricky mountain passes and narrow trails.  

Setting the book down, Ezra frowned and reached for his glasses and made his way across the worn but well-kept wooden floor to the door. Another knock-knock-knock came from the door before he quite reached the door. Whoever was on the other side could certainly use a lesson in patience! After all, this was the home of a wizard and anyone fool enough to come calling during such an indecent hour should be well aware of the imposition and show a little respect!

Drawing open the sturdy wooden front door revealed a young boy, tousled hair framing an earnest face and determined jaw, though his eyes were nervous and uncertain in the light of the candle Ezra had brought to the door to greet this new arrival. Dressed in forest green and brown and carrying a quiver and bow alongside his travel pack, he had the look of one of the forest wardens, though he seemed awful young to have joined their ranks. Ezra spoke before the boy could open his mouth.  

“Who comes calling at this hour of the night when folk are likely to be sitting by the fire and not prepared in the slightest for company?” Ezra questioned with equal parts curiosity and mild annoyance.

“My name is Eliot Rosen, sir. I am a ranger of the Echoing Wood and I come in the name of my great uncle who was a companion and friend to the owner of this home.  I apologize for coming so late at night, but I saw the smoke from your chimney and tried the door. Very kind of you to answer.  Are you Master Magnus? It’s such an honor to meet you! Everyone has heard the tales, but to meet you in the flesh—”

“No, no, boy.” Ezra interrupted, secretly amused that one would mistake him for the greatest wizard to walk the earth in an age. “This is the house of Magnus Shadowbane but I am not he and he isn’t home. I am caretaker and custodian, looking after the property and possessions of the good master.”

Disappointment and concern showed clearly on Eliot’s face. “Do you expect Mister Magnus home soon, sir? I have something that belongs to him and I made a promise that I would put it in his hands directly.”  

Ezra gave Eliot a long considering look and then sighed. “I do not expect Master Magnus this night. But please, young man, do come in and make yourself comfortable by the fire. I just finished brewing a kettle of some very fine tea that I am happy to share. I’m sure you and I together can find some way for you to honor the promise you made. My name is Ezra Thorne, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before Eliot could reply, Ezra reached a hand around the boy’s shoulder and guided him into the warmly lit home and took his cloak and traveling pack to hang by the door.

Eliot took a long, look around the place as Ezra moved off to fetch the tea, curiosity getting the better of the young ranger.  So this is the lair of the great conjurer, he thought. Books were stacked neatly on shelves on the wall except for a few that were left open on a large table in the center of the room with pages of notes laying next to them. On other shelves sat small jars of liquids and bundles of herbs, all labeled with care. The light from the fireplace and a few oil lanterns gave the home a welcoming and cozy feeling.

Presently, Ezra returned with tea along with a wedge of aged cheese and a loaf of bread which he had baked that very morning as was his custom before he began the day’s work. Setting the food down with care on a table near the crackling fire, he resumed his still warm seat and smiled as Eliot’s empty stomach demanded that he help himself to a hunk of the offered warm bread.

“What news from the Echoing Wood and the good people of the Tallwillow Dale, friend ranger?  I don’t hear much given my current duties here, and I would relish a chance to hear of places beyond this lonely valley.  I trust your order still protects the trade routes to and from the Dale from unsavory characters with talents for thievery and mayhem.”

“Aye, we surely do,” Eliot replied. “I haven’t had my ranger cloak long, but so far outside of a few malnourished bandits I have not had a reason to even use my bow in the line of duty. It’s not like it was in the war, back in my grandfather’s day. I wish I could have been a part of that, when my grandfather and the rangers of the Echoing Wood helped fight the Vorn incursion and seal the Runegates.  But I wasn’t born yet, and nobody has seen a single dark elf or even one of the giant spiders they used to ride on since my mother was a child.”

Looking around the comfortable home of the wizard, Eliot imagined all the secret meetings and planning that must have taken place in that very room after the Runegates were opened from beneath all those many years ago.  

“My grandfather Tam is still remembered among my people as a hero for his part helping to defend the realm in his day, but I doubt I will ever do much of anything worthy of remembrance. I love the Echoing Wood and my life in the forest and the valley, but I always thought there would be more for me than patrolling woodland trails for pickpockets.”

Ezra gave Eliot a sharp look. “Remember, boy, that there is more than glory to be found in times of war. Many of my kin came to quite a violent end, and so did many of yours. The price paid by the people of both our lands was high indeed.”

Eliot nodded without response, and Ezra frowned thoughtfully and waited until the young ranger took a sip of his tea before continuing.

“Young man, I’m not certain how to tell you this so I will just tell you. Magnus Shadowbane has not been seen by mortal eyes in a great many years now. For a time it was believed he was off on some wizard’s errand or perhaps even on extended holiday, but after a time it became clear that he was not returning. The wise among my guild now believe that he no longer walks this mortal realm and has passed through the veil to the next life.”

“Wizards are powerful beings.” Ezra continued, “Master Magnus was one of the most greatest powers the world may ever bear witness to, but even he was not entirely immune to the slow march of time that claims us all in the end.  And he was not without enemies in this land.”

Eliot frowned in confusion. “Dead? Honestly I didn’t know he could die. He lived though the lifetimes of many generations of the forest wardens and valley folk alike.”

Suddenly having a thought, he stood and walked to the door to bring his traveling pack to the table, and began to unbuckle it.

“If the mighty mage of old is truly gone, then I suppose I should leave this here in your care and protection.”

Reaching into the pack, Eliot withdrew a long rolled parchment wrapped around a rod and tied with leather around the middle. He held it out to Ezra.

“When Grandpa Tam died a few weeks back, his will stated quite strongly that this scroll should come back to the possession of Magnus Shadowbane, high wizard of the realm, and nobody else. Any property of Mister Magnus is something not to trifle with, and so I set out right away to fulfil my grandfather’s wishes though I can’t say I rightly know what it is. I suppose I was too late, though, if he truly has passed on for good.”

Taking the offered scroll, Ezra pulled his spectacles out of his pocket and studied it with the keen and practiced eye of someone who knows exactly what to look for when inspecting items with unknown but obviously antique origins.

“Ah… I see… Well. This is clearly the handwriting of Master Magnus here along the spine, written in his own shorthand, but I see the seal on this scroll was broken some time ago. This leather cord looks like something your grandfather added to secure it.”

“I would like very much to inspect this scroll. One of the duties I am charged with in the custodianship of this place is to make an account of all of the good master’s belongings both for posterity and in case one day they might come in handy. Why you join me? It seems only fair since you traveled all this way and this was in the care of your family for so long. Let’s retire to the library and take a closer look, if you are not too weary from your travels.”

Eliot hopped out of his chair before the caretaker could finish inviting him along, his earlier mood forgotten in the moment. “Please, Mister Thorne. I would be honored to share in this discovery, if you are sure it would not be an imposition.”

Ezra rose and ushered Eliot from the sitting room and down a small hallway. Fishing a ring of brass keys from his waistcoat, he found the one he was looking for and used it to unlock a rather sturdy looking door that opened into a stairway that went downward in a spiral.

The stairway was well-worn but sturdy, with wall sconces lit at regular intervals along the way. Presently, they came to another door which required another key from the ring Ezra carried, and then they were in the library.

Eliot’s jaw dropped in awe as he walked into the large room and beheld the full majesty of the library of a high wizard. The room was huge, with shelves everywhere, along every wall and reaching all the way up to the rough hewn stone ceiling 30 feet above them. Nearly every shelf was full of books and scrolls of every size, color, and shape imaginable.  The smell of printed paper and leather bindings filled the air with the promise of secrets long hidden. Soft golden light from oil lamps hanging from the ceiling gave a gentle glow to the whole room as Ezra lit them one by one.

“There must be hundreds of books here,” Eliot exclaimed. “This place is bigger than the entire house upstairs!”

Ezra smiled with pleasure, suddenly recalling his own reaction when first discovering the late wizard’s treasure trove of collected knowledge. “When I made my initial survey I counted well over a thousand items in this collection. It is easily one of the most valuable libraries in the realm. There are volumes here that cover nearly every discipline and subject matter that has been written about, both magical and mundane. I must caution you for your own safety, though, to be careful what you touch. I have not fully cataloged all the items in this room and there may be some safeguards in place that I am not aware of.”

Untying the scroll and unrolling it on a large oak table in the middle of the library, Ezra rested a smooth metal weight at each corner of the parchment to hold it still, and began his inspection, starting in one corner and carefully working his way over the aging but still supple parchment. Eliot looked on with silent curiosity.

“As Magnus wrote on the back, this is a map of the known kingdoms as they were known at the time this map was created. Judging from the placement border between the kingdoms of Dorun and Fiel, I estimate this map was created around the time of the great Vorn Incursion, nearly a hundred years ago.  Here, I see the sites of the great battles of the war have been marked as well as roads and some little known pathways that lead between them. And here, it looks like someone not used to map making made marks showing the locations of— natural wells, perhaps. I will need better light to be sure.  bring that silver lantern from over on that shelf and give it a light, will you?”

Eliot fetched the requested lantern as he was directed and lit it from a nearby candle, raising the wick so the flame would burn brightly, and set it down at the top of the map. In the flickering light of the wizard’s lantern, four new features appeared on the map, pulsing slowly with silver light. Ezra froze, eyebrows raised in surprise at the unexpected revelation, and then leaned closer to peer at the four arcane symbols. Each was a tiny silver serpent with a circle around it.  

“This map must be sensitive to the light of this lamp, somehow… or maybe it’s this place? Why, my boy, I believe these symbols may just show the locations of the great seals of the Runegates, which Magnus and the high wizards sealed to lock the Vorn back into their underground realms where their serpent goddess Nahra spawned them!”

Struck by the significance of the discovery, Ezra drug a hand through thinning hair. 

“Your grandfather was right to bequeath this map to the care of this house, my boy. The location of the great seals could be very dangerous information if it fell into the wrong—”

“Uhh, begging your pardon, Mister Thorne, sir,” Eliot interrupted nervously, “But is that one supposed to be doing that?”

Looking down at where Eliot was pointing, Ezra’s eyes came to rest on one of the symbols of the great seals as the magical ink pulsed with silver light. After a moment, the light from the glowing emblem sputtered and died leaving only unmarked parchment beneath. After a few harrowing moments the silver glow slowly returned to pulse again slowly, more slowly than the others.

“What does it mean?” Eliot asked, suddenly regretting his decision to join Ezra in this investigation. “I’m no great scholar, but I’m guessing that’s not good.”

Ezra’s face was as white as ash.  

“No, my boy. That is not good at all.”