Novella #2 Chapter One

Chapter One

Alabaster Square – One Fortnight Ago

Being an acquisitions expert and ambassador for The Alabaster Square had its perks, even when Absinthe spent time inside of the bone white towers that made up the primary location’s campus. Beyond a proper title and the “limitless within scholarly reason” access to sundries and supplies, all their legwork earned them a proper room all to themselves. A guarantee out of the shared dormitories hadn’t been the main reason that they took the promotion and responsibilities when they were offered, but Absinthe would be lying if they said it wasn’t high on the list.

The room wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Absinthe was quite sure that the room they often enjoyed at the Snakeshead while in Port Montegro was larger and had a much nicer view than staring out into the courtyard that was pitch black after curfew was called. But it was a place they could call their own: a closet filled with their own clothes, and bookshelves with things they chose to put there. Hells, there was even a tub in the ensuite bathroom. It took up most of the tiny room, but who needed to be comfortable peeing if the trade-off was not sharing a shower with novitiates or old magisters?

The title and promotion DID have its downsides the brief times they were at home though: Advisory duties. Because they were on the road so often, they always missed initial sign-ups for evening security shifts which made for a truly atrocious schedule any time they planned to be there for more than a few days. Absinthe would be stuck with emergency shifts, or be the first on a substitution shift if someone called out sick. Amazing how at least one scholar suddenly came down with stomach troubles when they were back on the property.

The night of the New Moon Rituals was no exception, but the Dark Lady did see to give them one small blessing: Absinthe was only the backup to the reporting elder scholar on duty. The Lifebloom researchers had no need or desire to dance about under the moonless sky, so it was no great loss to them to miss out on a celebration. Minus having to be awake, and most unfortunately inside, until the early hours of the morning things had been smooth sailing. At the risk of jinxing themselves, even uneventful.

Absinthe had been able to take a long bath complete with bubbles they had picked up during their last trip out. The horns always made it difficult to wrap their horns in a towel, so it was left down to air dry on its own. The impossibly luscious, moth-spun fiber, gift from some lord or lady during a diplomatic visit, ankle-length, robe was only barely tied closed around their waist. If they didn’t have to worry about the potential of being called to duty at any moment, Absinthe wouldn’t have bothered with the briefs under the silky fabric: contrary to popular belief, they did have SOME sense of modesty and decorum.

They poured half a glass of red wine for themselves before settling into the armchair that was positioned in front of the ever-burning fireplace. Since there wasn’t any moonlight for them to enjoy lounging in, Absinthe had to improvise. As they leaned back in the chair, the robe fell almost entirely open with the knot clinging on for dear life. The deep blue of the material was a stunning contrast to the charcoal of their skin. The smooth abdominals and pectorals were every bit as unblemished as the rich fabric; freedom from scars was just one of many mana-afforded blessings.

With the stem of the glass dangling in the fingers of one hand, Absinthe tucked the other one behind their head. There was a tangible energy that danced along the scholar’s skin, as the energy from the Weave’s shadows was not tethered by the moonlight. The line between the stars seemed to match the bend and wave of their acid green veins, sparkling with the glimmer of starshine and mana. As they took a long sip of their wine, they crossed their bare legs right over left. Toes pointed as they stretched out the top leg with the grace of a dancer in repose, Absinthe tilted their head back with a content sigh.

“Loomweaver Absinthe!”

The sudden pounding on the door that accompanied the shouting forced their eyes back open. Absinthe only just managed to swallow the annoyed groan before setting down the barely touched wine. They didn’t yet rise from the chair, though.

“I am not your primary Guardian this evening, Novitiate. Call the Lifebloom Warden on your sending stone.”

“That’s the problem, Loomweaver.” Two novitiates were on the other side of the door, judging by the new voice. “He didn’t answer our last check in call. The protocol says if there isn’t a response within half of a bell, we have to find the second if this happens.”

Absinthe was well aware of the protocol the young scholar cited at them. They weren’t able to keep the groan down as they pulled themselves up to their feet. The robe flew fully open in a flurry of silk as they crossed to their workbench on the other side of the bedroom. They lifted a palm sized crystal from the top of the desk and used the tip of their pointed nail to trace the sigil that was carved on the largest facet.

“Warden Tobias, I do not wish to file a disciplinary report if you’re sleeping on the job. Answer the juniors, please.”

They hoped the annoyance and steel they inserted into their voice would be enough to get the other elder scholar going. When the crystal remained silent and dark in their palm, Absinthe scowled. They traced the sigil one more time, pressing the pad of their pointer finger into the center of it once they finished. The forced vibration and heat that the incantation was crafted to make with prolonged contact was usually more than enough to rouse even the heaviest of sleepers so long as it was on their person.

“Loomweaver?” The nervous whine of one of the novitiates in the hall came again. “What should we do?”

“Go back to your stations.” Absinthe finally let the robe fall from their shoulders and went to their wardrobe as they spoke. “Inform the others on watch that the security threat level has increased one notch and to activate the wards over their sections. No one new comes in, and no one goes out.”

“Yes, Loomweaver.” There was the sound of one set of footprints running off to do as instructed, the other novitiate remaining in case there was further instruction.

The robe that Absinthe pulled over their head was only slightly more acceptable for outside the bedroom than the one they left behind way. The low cut of the front fastenings would have been considered a safety hazard in a work room, but it was faster than looking for pants and a tunic at the moment. It would serve Tobias right if he got a little scandalized for interrupting Absinthe’s relaxing evening anyway.

“Where was Warden Tobias working out of this evening, Novitiate?”

“The Onyx Wing.” Absinthe paused in putting on the robe’s matching satin slippers when this was the response. “He was concerned that the energy from the new moon might impact some of the relics that had been showing strange readings in the evenings leading up to tonight. He wanted to be closer in proximity to them in case there was action needed.”

They approved of Tobias’s logic, but the information made them change their plan for footwear. Instead, they pulled on their boots with their heavy soles. The Onyx wing housed those relics most commonly associated with night, death, and shadows. On the best of nights it would be off limits to any of the novitiates, and typically would be staffed full time by one of the mages whose specialties fell into those fields. But on an evening that was important to them, it wasn’t surprising that none of them wanted to stay inside. Even if their toys were more temperamental than normal.

“Very good.” Absinthe cleared their throat, pocketing the still silent sending stone. “Go back to your station. Do not move from it until you receive an all clear from me.”

“Yes, Loomweaver.”

Absinthe put a strand of amber beads around their wrist from beside where the stone had been, crossing to their door and pulling it open. The novitiate had been leaning forward on the heavy wood, stumbling against Absinthe when it was opened. They turned as red as their hair, tripping over her words of apology as she righted herself. If there wasn’t the potential for a wounded magister, Absinthe would have teased her. Instead, they patted their shoulder, bodily turning her in the direction of the main hall she would have come down.

“Back to work. Shoo.”

The girl gave a deep bow in apology, both of her arms crossed over her chest. Absinthe waited until the girl was around the corner and out of sight before turning back to lock their bedroom door. As they made their own way down the hall, the heel of their boots rhythmically clicked a steady beat that matched their speeding heart.

Absinthe did nor run as they made their way through the winding halls of the Alabaster Square’s main building, as they knew that would only cause attention or panic if any other mage saw them. However, their strides were long and purposeful as they finally arrived at the door to the Onyx Wing, on almost the perfectly opposite side of where their bedroom was. On the way, they had stopped at the room of one of the higher ranked Astrologens who had decided to stay in for the evening. While the man hadn’t been pleased to have been pulled out of bed, he didn’t argue once Absinthe explained what was going on. Hard to argue with being safe rather than sorry when it came to shadow mana during the new moon.

“What exactly should we be expecting? Absinthe asked before either of them moved to open the heavy door. “I was unaware that there had been any new intakes that might require extra…Attention tonight.”

“You only just got back from a trip yesterday, right?” The other elder mage sighed. “Recently, we took in a few pieces from an old family collection. The way I heard it, some nobles needed coin to pay off old debts, so they cleaned out an old ancestor’s trunks. Turns out they were a second-rate necromancer who didn’t exactly store their belongings in the best of stasis charms before they joined their test subjects eight feet under.”

Few things involving the weave unsettled Absinthe after their years working for the Alabaster Square, and a childhood growing up amongst Wyld God worshiping cultists. They had seen miracles and tragedies, more often than not in rapid succession, thanks to the well of power that fueled the heart of this rock. When it came to any magics involving the dead, they made a point to stay as far away as possible. Perhaps it was that wyld blood in their veins, or the remnants of the old tenants of so-called faith that had been central to their youth, but Absinthe FIRMLY believed that the cycle of death and rejuvenation was not a thing to be trifled with the way necromancers often did.

“Cursed? Or possession?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Undetermined was the answer the Cryptwalkers gave before they went off to bathe in sow blood this evening. Talk about timing, ey?”

Absinthe wasn’t nearly as amused by the situation as the Astrologen seemed to be. To his credit, the man quickly sobered when they took note of the damage done to the sigil on the floor in front of the door. The binding charm was meant to act as a secondary precaution if someone without clearance or permission attempted to unlock the door. They would be frozen in place, and an alarm would be sent to at least one of the Cryptwalkers who would come to collect and appropriately deal with the person.

“Is that a scratch in the mana line?” The Astrologen frowned. “It’s jagged, like someone used something to cut it. There aren’t many things that would be able to do that….”

“No, there aren’t.” Absinthe sighed, bending down and placing a hand on the fractured line, in order to safely remove the damaged incantation. “Tobias might be a mess, but I’ve never known him to be this sloppy. Step back, but be at the ready.”

The man took two large steps down the hall, drawing a palm-sized blade from a sheath on his belt. As he twirled the hilt in his hand, a blue light sparked along previously unseen markings carved into the metal.

Absinthe could feel the beads of amber around their wrist grow warmer in response to the sudden spell work. Shielding wards inscribed on such a small area weren’t always the strongest, but it was good to know they were still quick to activate even if they hadn’t been refreshed in a few moons. They nodded once to the Astrologen before placing their hand over the doorknob, which would release the warded lock.

As they pushed the door open there was no immediate sounds that would indicate a struggle, or screaming of the dead or dying. Minus furniture that had been shifted, there didn’t seem to be any sign of trouble at all in the entrance foyer. There was a steaming warm drink on the table by the fire, with the sending stone on the floor near one of the legs. Likely, it had fallen off, due to the vibrations from Absinthe’s calls earlier.

“Blasting powder on these hinges. They took out the doors to get in to them.” The Astrologen spoke from the smoldering remnants of one of the two work room doors. “Organized bastards.”

“Unfortunately. No sign of the Lifebloom Warden?”

“Not from this side of the thresholds, no. You take the left room, I’ll take the right.”

Absinthe used the point of their nail to slice into their palm as the man gave direction. They barely winced as the blood burned away on contact with the air, forming the thin strands of arcane energy that joined the fingertips of both hands like spiderwebs that gave them the “Loomweaver” title.

“Capture and contain if there’s anyone left alive.” Absinthe reminded, watching as the Astrologen twirled his knife in his hand again.

“Of course.”

Absinthe crossed to the left side of the room. As the Astrologen said the hinges of the door to the work and storage room had been clean off, char marks on the stone of the wall the door frame was set into confirming it. Clearly however they had ruined the first set of sigils was single use, so the attackers had to use a little more force the further they went in. Absinthe stepped over the shards of wood and broken stone; glad they had changed to more solid shoes as they made it into the room.

Drawers and boxes were dumped out, and the glass cabinets near the entrance were shattered both from the blast and from the force of a blunt object. It would take weeks, if not months to catalog all the damage and see what was missing. Not to mention what was broken between artifacts and workbench equipment. Absinthe almost pitied the Cryptwalkers. Almost. The fact they didn’t see fit to keep any of their number here tonight made it hard to feel bad.

Absinthe maintained the spell threads between their fingers as they circled the room, checking under upturned furniture for bodies either moving or still. They stopped in front of one of the reinforced cabinets that had a smear of blood across the front of it. There wasn’t enough of the stuff to cause a mortal to bleed out, but it had dripped into a pool on the floor.

“A feeding, or a failure….” Absinthe muttered as they ran the fingers of one hand along the handle and lock. “Opened. Damn.”

It was nothing for them to give the unlocked handle a tug and pull it open. Each little drawer and shelf was lined with a velvet fabric that cradled the small artifacts that were settled on them. Identifying tags, with materials listed, names if applicable, and numbers that corresponded to a system older than some towns of the continent marked each and every item.          “Seventeen…Eighteen…Nineteen.”

The empty spot behind the twentieth marker was a perfect four by four-inch square. Both the paper tag and the velvet were stained with drying blood. Absinthe cursed, ripping the tag off and shoving it into the pocket of their robe. There would be time later to look into the particulars of what exactly was missing; right now making sure that whoever broke in were in fact gone was the priority. A crash and shout from what had to be the other work room confirmed as much.

Absinthe hoped the lock reengaged as they gave the doors a little shove as they slammed it closed and booked it towards the wing’s atrium. As they made it back across the rubble of the blown doorway, a flash of violet caught the corner of their eye.

The Astrologen had been wearing black.

Without a second thought, Absinthe raised their hands and allowed the strands of raw mana to shoot forward from them. The surprised shout that came from the would-be escapee as their legs were bound together was incredibly rewarding. The woman frantically tried to move across the floor towards where a rod she had been holding ended up knocked out of her grasp. Absinthe was quick to bring the heel of their boot down on the reaching hand, smirking at the satisfying snap of bone breaking under the weight.

“Are you alive in there, Astrologen?” They glanced to the doorway before kicking the rod further away with the other foot. “Please say that you are. The paperwork is already mounting.”

The groan that they got in response was half pain and half annoyance at the dry, if honest, joke. Absinthe let out a sigh turned snarl as the woman on the ground reached up with her uninjured hand and tried to grab at their ankle. As the Astrologen seemed coherent enough that another minute or two wouldn’t be the death of him, she now had Absinthe’s full attention. It wasn’t really a struggle; or at the very least it wasn’t a fair fight if it was a struggle. Absinthe was able to get her wrists together, and use another thread of their mana to bind them together before hauling her up to her bound feet.

“Square-enslaved Ram.” She could still spit, and reminded Absinthe of that unfortunate fact as soon as she could lift her head to look at them. “My master will see you in ash and ruin.”

“If I had a gold for every time I heard that threat from an idiot in a robe, my latest research project would be fully funded. Now be a good girl and be still.”

They shoved her back into one of the two armchairs. With another flick of those deceptively delicate wrists, the rope of mana around her wrists lengthened and shifted to coil around her chest and the back of the chair. She reared her head back to spit again, but this time Absinthe had time to duck. They tore a chunk of fabric off the hem of the dingy, violet robe, long enough to tie around her head and shove into her mouth.

“You can tell the Guard Captain about your master soon enough. I’m sure he’ll love to hear all about the promise of ash and ruin.”

The deranged ramblings were only muffled, but it at the very least kept her from spitting at them again. Content that she wouldn’t be able to escape her binds, Absinthe crossed to the ruins of the other work room’s door.

“Mana, what a mess.”

The bulk of the fighting took place in this room, judging by the unattached arm that they stepped over once they cleared the rubble. Where the room they had scouted was still organized chaos, entire shelves seemed to have been pulled down or had blasts of mana sent through them. The Warden’s body was sprawled across the primary work desk. Spell burns charred his clothes and his flesh, indicating he hadn’t gone down without a fight. Two bodies that Absinthe could see with the violet robes, and the woman in the other room made at least three assailants. Hardly a fair fight.

“Poor bastard. You too, Astrologen.”

“Just help me up.”

The woman had caught the Astrologen by surprise, pushing him backwards with a rudimentary gust of force mana. The flimsy cart meant for moving material between the two work rooms crumpled like wet paper under his weight when he crashed in to it. Unfortunately for the Astrologen, so had his left leg. It would need to be set properly by a healer; sooner rather than later to avoid a limp. For now, Absinthe could only pull him up onto the good leg and allow him to lean on them for support.

“The other room look any better?”

“Marginally. No bodies at least. Easy, you’re heavier than you look man.”

The two moved slowly back to the atrium. Tempting as it was to get close enough to allow the Astrologen a bit of payback, the credenza by the entrance door was the furniture most likely to hold the man’s weight as they used the messaging stone to call the head of the Square’s central guard. With dead bodies and threats of some mysterious master, this was clearly outside of Absinthe and the other mange’s realm of responsibilities.

“You get her staff?” the Astrologen asked as he watched Absinthe circle the room to make sure there were no hidden traps or tricks they missed. “Didn’t look regulation when she used it.”

“Good catch. Where did it go….Ah.”

Long as the robe they had put on was, navigating to get down on all fours in order to reach under the chair they had kicked the implement under still caused it to ride up. They couldn’t be blamed for smirking when they heard the furniture creak under the Astrologen’s weight and the little clearing of his throat.

“Got it.” Absinthe made getting up to their feet look more graceful than getting down had.

As they turned the metal rod in their hand, they couldn’t see what made the Astrologen think it wasn’t a standard channeling tool. Not until their fingers brushed against something carved into one of the smooth sides. A casting or channeling rune wasn’t uncommon for underpowered or training mages. Ones that were designed to overcompensate with blood calling were not. If fully fed, the additional power would make the tendrils Absinthe called upon with the few drops on their palm look like a child’ party trick.

“Well fuck.”

“That bad?” The Astrologen arched an eyebrow, but echoed the curse when Absinthe brought the instrument over to show him. “Your territory then.”

“I was supposed to be on ambassador leave for the next two moon cycles.”

The look of distress on the Guard Captain’s face when he saw the wreckage of the wing sealed their fate. Unfortunately, dinner parties and artifact shopping on the Alabaster Square’s coin would have to take backseat to un-permitted use of blood magicks.