Secrets of the Arcanum

It was the dawn of the third era of the Guild of Mages, and the ball celebrating its inception was in full swing. The attendants of the party consisted mainly of esteemed wizards who held as much influence in the politics of Oscothe as any of the four ruling lords. The four lords, who kept to themselves in one corner as though their station demanded they remain separate from their subjects, had agreed to make an appearance to show their support for the Guild and pay homage to all that had been done to aid in the progress of the imperial nations. The guests who received invitations last included a mix of apprentice magicians sponsored by one of the wizards.
All the guests were in relatively high spirits as the drinks were constantly refilled by the servants floating around the room. Cyruss Brenagan signaled to the nearest waiter that he needed a refill, but either the servant was ignoring him, or was too distracted to notice the young alchemist waving one arm wildly. He gave up waving his arm like a lunatic when the servant continued in the opposite direction toward a cherubic, gray-haired wizard wearing a plain set of trousers and shirt. Cyruss grumbled to himself about the terrible service and decided he was in need of some fresh air.
He weaved his way through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone as his head was light from the ale and brandy. The balcony door had been left open and Cyruss felt the cool night air wash over him as he stepped onto the tall deck.
It overlooked an expanse of rolling hills that led down to a swiftly moving stream. Even from this distance, and with all the noise of the party, Cyruss could still make out the distinct rush of water. He leaned on the railing and closed his eyes and let his senses drift around the area.

“Quite the party,” came a feminine voice from behind Cyruss.

Cyruss’s neck hairs stood on end at the sound of the lovely voice. He opened his eyes and turned his head to view a gorgeous elven maiden. Her beauty and the glow of her skin against the pale moonlight tantalized Cyruss’s senses. Mixed with the booze, he felt himself swooning and gripped the railing. He drew in a deliberate breath and managed a weak smile to show his interest.
She edged closer to him, and Cyruss could feel his insides melting. His heart was beating quickly as she slid her hand on top of his. The elf tilted her head and chuckled.

“What’s the matter,” she purred. “Cat got your tounge?”

Her voice was delicate and mellifluous. Cyruss shook his head and held up a finger as he steadied himself.

“I’m sorry. I don’t find myself in such pleasant company very often,” he began, realizing it could not be helped to sound pathetic.

“Oh, you are a sweet one, Cyruss.”

The sound of his name was a shock as he had no way of knowing who this lady was. His face contorted with confusion, and his head was floating as the brandy and wine settled in his system.

“Uh, have we met, uh – I don’t believe I know your name.”
“I like being called pleasant company, Cyruss. And yes, we have met but once prior to this engagement.”

Cyruss snapped his eyes away as he tried to recall any memory of encountering this elf. He couldn’t find any trace of when any lady would have ever bothered him even for the time of day. He was a shy scholar at the Guild and had few friends. But he was certainly enjoying the change of pace.

“Well, I can’t seem to recall, my dear. But hopefully before the night is through, I can at least get your name.”

A servant bearing a tray of glasses filled with wine approached the couple and offered them the drinks. Cyruss and the lovely elf each took one and tapped their glasses together in a toast before taking a sip. The liquid went down smooth and helped Cyruss to find his footing in the conversation.

“Tell me, dear elf, where should I know you from?”

“We once ran into each other as you were coming out of the headmaster’s office full of anger. I was coming around the corner when you stepped out of the office and we collided. All my papers and books went tumbling from my hands and spilled all over the place. But, as is your nature, Cyruss, you stooped and gathered as much of my stuff as you could manage. All the while apologizing a million times.”

She flashed a smile and sipped at the wine a little more, amused at the self-conscious look plastered on Cyruss’s face. He scratched at the back of his head as he stared into her soft eyes. A spark of remembrance flashed in his mind as Cyruss then recalled the incident several weeks earlier.

“I do remember you now. I also remember being in such a rush I didn’t catch your name that day. I must apologize for my earlier actions.”

“Oh, there’s no need, Cyruss. It was a chance encounter that our paths converged, and I do believe that I’m quite glad we met. Made my approaching you tonight all the easier.”

“Fair enough,” Cyruss conceded, happy to have her company this night. “That does bring up the point of why you approached me tonight.”

She chuckled in between a sip of wine. “Look in there,” she stated, pointing inside the manor ballroom. “So stifling and tense. I find myself at ease on the balcony next to you.”

She turned and leaned on the railing, arching her back slightly so the fabric of her dress flowed gently along her smooth curves. Cyruss let his gaze wander along her fine form, and realized when he again met her eyes that he had been staring a little longer than he had planned. It caught him by surprise once more when he saw that disarming smile of hers.

“I must admit, fair lady, that I’m a bit uneasy here beside you. You are radiant.”

Cyruss brought a hand to his brow and shook his head again. The wine certainly was catching up with him. He couldn’t be quite clear if it was his imagination, but it seemed as though this fine elf was eyeing him all over as well.

“So, what is it that you are involved with at the Guild,” he stammered, pressing for a subject change.

“Mystic Arcanum.”

The phrase settled in like a heavy weight to the young alchemist. He had heard such talk only in the classrooms, and the mentors and wizards made it quite clear that all living beings were to steer clear of delving into that ancient form of mind magic.

“But, surely you jest. You speak of the forbidden arts.”

“No jest at all, Cyruss. I am privately involved with said art apart from my more formal studies in restorative magic. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to introduce myself to you this night.”

Cyruss was confused. He had absolutely no reason to go against his master’s wishes or the wishes of any of the wizards at the Guild. It had been warned that the power of the Arcanum would lead to the utter unraveling of one’s soul. That was a price Cyruss wasn’t quite willing to pay for any sort of power.

“Well I can’t see why you would seek me out for such heresy,” Cyruss stated a bit sharply, hoping to make it absolutely clear that he had no intentions of dealing in the dark arts.

“I seek you because of your master’s involvement in the Arcanum.”

Cyruss was stunned and his blood was drained at the mention that Master Feabard was a practitioner of the darkest of the known magics. He stiffened then and dipped a low bow.

“I bid you good eve, madam. Kindly leave me alone and never mention of this again.”

Without a further word of argument, Cyruss walked away, leaving the young maiden speechless and hurt. She gripped her wine glass in both hands close to her heart and gazed out to where the river flowed. In the light of the moon, motes of moisture glistened in her eyes and she shuddered with the realization of how foolish and over confident she was to assume he would understand.
From the doorway of the ballroom, Cyruss paused and looked over his shoulder once to see her sobbing. There was a sharp pang of guilt in his heart. He wanted to return to her side and make amends for his reaction, as it probably was more the drink than anything talking for him. But it was ludicrous to even consider his devoted master associated with the Mystic Arcanum.
Cyruss sighed heavily and went back inside and headed immediately for a servant bearing filled glasses of brandy.

The morning after, Cyruss and his mentor’s other student, Gaellon Tallodane, stood by Master Feabard’s lecture room. They discovered the door locked and it had been an hour since their arrival. Cyruss emptied his water skin for the second time that morning, still dehydrated from the previous night’s drinking. Gaellon shared a similar spell, but had forgotten to bring his water skin.

“Mind if I have a drop of your water, Cyruss,” Gaellon asked.

Cyruss loosened the string around the water skin and stretched it out toward Gaellon. Gaellon took hold of the skin and tipped it toward his mouth. A thin stream of droplets came out, barely enough water to swish around in his mouth. But, Gaellon was the appreciative sort and made no complaint. He handed the empty skin back to Cyruss and peered down both sides of the hallway.

“Where do you suppose our master is off to. Already an hour late by my count.”

Cyruss shrugged, still feeling the sting of his brief encounter with the elven maiden, wondering if ever he would see her again. He had made up his mind that he owed her an apology as he simply overreacted due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

“Well you are a rather glum sort after you’ve drunk yourself into a stupor, now aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up, Gaellon,” Cyruss hissed. “How would feel if an exotic elf, seemingly interested in you, turned out to want only to spread rumors about our master Feabard?”

“Come again, Cyruss? What’s this about rumors and,” as the notion struck Gaellon of a woman finding interest in Cyruss, he laughed aloud. “And a girl, an elf no less, finding you interesting?”

Gaellon’s laughter rolled along the corridors reverberating off the walls. An aged wizard stuck his head out of one room and gave a cross look at the lads that had them shrinking away from his scorn.

“Back to class with you lot,” he spat.

“Sorry for the interruption, professor. Won’t happen again,” Gaellon promised with a smile.

Grumbling to himself, Ithoxiun, a wizard everyone referred to as professor due to his profound knowledge on seemingly everything, disappeared back into his room.

“Well I’m not for waiting around here all day when there’s plenty we could be doing to get some real experience with magic.” Gaellon nudged Cyruss with an elbow, hoping to excite his normally adventurous spirit.

Cyruss rolled his eyes at the notion. He was hardly in the mood between the hangover and the thought of the girl from last night.

“Oh, come on, Cyruss. Snap out of your miserable self-loathing and let’s get out of here. It’s obvious our master shant be coming in this day. And it’s not like this would be the first time he’s been absent. Wonder how the fellow even still has a job here. But I do suppose that’s why you and I have been stuck with him for the past three years. What with all the potions gone up in smoke and fire, and the lady’s room incident, I’d say that the three of us are quite the peas in a pod.”

Irritated and lethargic, Cyruss rubbed his eyes. He considered for a moment trying to locate the elf, whose name was still a mystery to him. But the sound of shoes clicking down the hall snuffed that idea. A pair of wizards was approaching the lads.

“You don’t suppose they might know something of our master’s fate,” Gaellon whispered into Cyruss’s ear.

“Can’t say for certain,” Cyruss responded in the same hushed tone.

“Good day, master wizards,” Gaellon called to the approaching mages. “What news of our master Feabard? We’ve been expecting him for the last hour and a half by my count.”

The first of the wizards thrust a rolled parchment toward the lads, his expression very serious.

“Read this, and if you agree with its contents, speak nothing more of your master and return to your homes immediately.”

Chills ran along his spine as Cyruss deduced that this was related to his encounter with the lovely elf. Moreover, he was nervous and suddenly very afraid at the implications of having to return to his home in Dancorb. What treachery could have brought this upon him? Lost in his thoughts, Cyruss had failed to notice that Gaellon had unrolled the parchment and already began to read it.
Both Cyruss and Gaellon blanched as they finished reading the document. For the first time in his life, Gaellon was speechless, couldn’t even muster the courage to whimper under the scrupulous and knowing stares of the wizards.
The first wizard snatched the parchment from Gaellon’s trembling hands and placed a palm on the lads shoulder pulling him close.

“I see you understand well the weight of this matter,” the wizard spoke softly but sternly. “And why this matter must be kept a secret.”

He stepped back from Gaellon and addressed the pair of frightened lads.

“We will provide you with transport and accommodations to see you safely on your way back home. Both of you are forever to stay out of the affairs of the Guild of Mages. Use what knowledge you have garnered here these last five years and provide yourselves a suitable life. That is my advice to you both. You are young and have long lives to look forward to. I wish you both the best of luck.”

With that, the wizards spun about and headed back down the hall from whence they had come. It took several moments before Gaellon or Cyruss found the courage to even mutter a sound.

“I must find her,” Cyruss whispered hurriedly, his mind racing.

“What,” Gaellon started.

“The girl from last night, fool! She spoke of our master having involvement with the Mystic Arcanum.”

Then it dawned on Cyruss that he was not alone in this situation. He turned to stare at Gaellon and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“In all confidence, Gaellon, finding that girl is our main concern. We both have a stake in this and we both must find her.”

Gaellon shrugged off Cyruss and backed up into the walls.

“Here now, Cyruss. I understand your infatuation after a life of no attention to your loins. But this is a grave matter. One we do not need any more involvement in. You read the note too! They will come for us if we meddle. They will kill us!” His whispering was harsh and echoed in the hall.

Cyruss grabbed Gaellon and started dragging him down the corridor. He shoved open the entry door and continued to the open courtyard with the statue displaying a likeness of Ramius Kiand, the first architect of the Guild of Mages, the first in a long line of archmages who learned to harness magic.
The boys continued on to a bench where Cyruss was certain they were out of anyone’s earshot.

“Our master is in peril. He has been like a father to you and me these past five years and you would so soon abandon him like this?”

“Cyruss, please. We can’t stand up against the Guild for any reason. Who are we but two aspiring wizards barely able to put together a decent potion for healing wounds?”

Cyruss was growing frustrated as it sounded like his friend was already resigned to returning home. He gritted his teeth, determined to have Gaellon’s support in this.

“Gaellon, I won’t stand for knowing we did nothing to try and save our mentor. I won’t live out the rest of my life in relative peace with the memory that I and you allowed them to do away with our master. And for what crime? Do we even know for certain that they have evidence he is a practitioner of mind magics? I just don’t buy into it, Gaellon. Feels like they are looking for a scapegoat.”

“Regardless of what may be the truth and where the lies stop, I can’t go against the orders of two wizards of the Guild. That is borderline treason, Cyruss. Punishable as the Guild deems fit!”
“Then if we don’t have the Guild behind us, then perhaps this should be brought to the attention of the magistrate.” Cyruss leaned back on the bench, gaining confidence that he could find some way of saving his mentor. “I’m sure the city council members would find it most displeasing that their laws concerning justice are being circumvented.”

Gaellon issued a nervous chuckle, able to find the flaw in that logic. “The Guild protects the Imperials, Cyruss. The council and all the laws in the civilized nations are at their beckon. Don’t you understand that it is hopeless? Master Feabard is doomed. And if we don’t leave as it has been decided, then so shall we be doomed.”

Cyruss stiffened at that and stood from the bench, turning his back on Gaellon. “Then go,” he stated coldly.

Gaellon rose from the bench and touched Cyruss’s shoulder with his hand. “Cyruss, please. Don’t throw your life away like this. Come back to Dancorb with me. I’ve heard tell that the mayor is seeking a group to start up a Guild Chapter down that way. I believe we would be the most suitable persons for that task.”

“I have nothing back there, Gaellon. You know that,” Cyruss corrected his friend, his voice frail and solemn.

“But it is a chance to start anew, my friend. Forget you stupid inebriate of a father and that whore of a mother. Come live with me and my family. My mum always did so love your company at the dinner table. And you might be happy to know that Fionna has always fancied you. And as more a brother than a friend, I would give you my blessing should you choose to seek love in her arms, dear Cyruss.”

Cyruss was stifled by tears and awash in an ocean of self-doubt and loathing. He had journeyed here to Oscothe with the goal of one day working as a mentor in the Guild, never anything less. And now, his whole world was crumbling around him. His mentor was being held on accounts of treason against the Guild, his childhood friend ready to abandon him, his dreams permanently out of reach. Cyruss clenched his fists in rage.
Softly at first, his hands glowed green. Then the hue intensified and burned to a deep purple color. Gaellon’s eyes went wide as he witnessed this and stepped back before anything caught fire or exploded. Cyruss turned slowly to regard his friend. When nothing out of the ordinary happened, Gaellon eased a bit and was simply perplexed.

“Cyruss, what is this.” A tiny smirk showed on Gaellon’s face. “Have you been studying in your spare time? Why the last time you tried this – well we both remember the lady’s chambers. Ah! What fun that was, eh?”

“Yes, Gaellon, I have been dabbling a little more each night when no one has been looking. As you can plainly see, I have accomplished the feat of controlling energy and making it appear as any spectrum I desire. Watch as I turn it red –“

Gaellon was impressed, but also a little frightened as Cyruss appeared possessed with his new found prowess. Even his eyes were cast in the same color as his hands. From deepest purple to molten red, the spectrum on Cyruss’s hands flared. Then Cyruss let the magical energies dissipate in a soft hiss of smoke.
Gaellon was delighted and clapped as he laughed.

“Well done, Cyruss. Bravo.”

“Yes, indeed, dear Gaellon. See what a little persistence can accomplish?”

That stilled Gaellon as he became aware of Cyruss’s intentions with that display. For several moments, the youths stood in shared silence as they contemplated the very near future. Gaellon nodded his concurrence.

“You are right, Cyruss. And I have been a fool to think otherwise.”

Gaellon dipped his head as he came to realize the worse treachery would have been to have deserted his friends when most they needed him. Cyruss gave him a reassuring hug then pushed him back out to arms length.
Cyruss turned to regard the esteemed Guild of Mages, his home for the last five years. With a final thought to the welfare of his mentor, Cyruss started off toward the Hall of Healing, Gaellon strutting by his side.

“Let us away, Gaellon. We have a certain young lady to catch up with.”