1st month, 12th day, 968

  Malcolm

  Ah, greetings once more dear friends - I, Malcolm Kavian, once again have the pleasure of taking the wheel both literally and figuratively today! What have I been up to lately? Oh the usual, singing, telling jokes, providing biting social commentary, gradually falling in love with Rayna, serving up heaping spoonfuls of exposition, crafting illusions, that sort of thing. Oh what about that thing in the middle? Ah, yes, I suppose I should address that - especially after what happened on the hydrolift.

  When I’d said, “...snap, you’re slowly falling with the grace of a feather!”

  I heard her mutter, “S-slowly f-falling?”

  Rayna’s reaction to what was merely a whimsical explanation about a spell told me all I needed to know: she saw it too. What? We both watched two of our friends go through the same blasted thing while they were both oblivious to it so of course we weren’t blind to it happening to us, too! Er, well, at least in my case I thought they were already a married couple the first time I ever saw them: dressed so sharply at the Queen’s ball. The way they danced screamed “we rut every chance we get!”, so really, who can blame me?

  I don’t rightfully know what it means to be in love, having only recently discovered lust; by the time I was old enough to notice girls I was already broken, beyond repair I originally thought. The idea of marrying someone was the furthest thing from my mind, and even now, I didn’t even know whether that was what I wanted - but at this point, I wouldn’t say no. It started out as a silly tryst between adventurers, but I've started to grow quite fond of her.

  This stopped being about sex weeks ago, as we hadn’t even done that more than twice due to certain limitations; well, not full on intercourse at least. I needed to discuss this with her, sooner rather than later I think. Look at Victor and Princess Illiana: they didn’t hesitate even for a moment. But if we gave in to our base passions and she became pregnant we’d have other problems, such as how we’d manage her family’s reaction…more importantly, I wonder if the kid would have her red hair and my white streak?

  Good grief! I really, really should concentrate on the road!

  Did I mention I was driving? Yes, I was currently behind the wheel of Red Lightning’s signature conveyance and the reason for its name - a 1967 Cadillac DeVille, whose color I’ve come to learn is called flamenco; such a fun word! For the better part of eight days, we had been taking turns driving the car in a holding pattern around the Dreadmoor - a nasty, massive swamp whose depths have never truly been explored. It’s actually classified as a wilderland, and it is so dangerous that the only reason it isn’t classified as a waste is that it’s capable of supporting human life. Somewhere, in there, is the Darklord’s hidden fortress - which we now know, based on what Maera said, is on an upland deep within the swamp.

  Ha, a moor by one definition hidden inside a moor by a different definition; I do love double meanings. Anyroad, there was no road to speak of out here - the people of Alta Ferra have long feared the Dreadmoor for good reason. Not only is it the dwelling of the Darklord that once terrorized these lands, there are fouler things more ancient than even he, lurking in the mist, basking in the bogs. Legend has it that the Dreadmoor itself is evil and malicious, or some ancient dark power with an unknown name dwells deep underneath the morass. Brooding tyrants still mad that they lost aside, it is a perilous place full of enough hazards to deter most sane creatures.

  Victor was presently resting at our base camp - he had driven for a night and a day, after which Princess Illiana dragged his stubborn arse to bed and let us take over for a while. Since then we’d been doing rotational shifts throughout the days and nights. Curiously, Victor requested to be dropped off in different locations each time it was his turn to rest; he's clearly up to something. How many circuits had I made, I wondered…hmm, Sylfie is probably worried sick about us, I wonder how her research is going. Guy and Rayna were with me right now, each looking out from their respective sides of the vehicle for any signs of Maera and her dreadrunner.

  So far there’d been nothing; though, the three of us did have to stop the car to take down a shambling bog monster earlier and that had been a fun little diversion. Ah, when was the last time it was the three of us specifically; the dungeon in the Gaian Wastes I imagine. Yes, that’s when I first told Rayna about my past with the Black Order - when I came face to face with a talking skull that had once been Expanius. The old fool had left his golem control rod, and his food, in his magic bag; he starved to death because his own golems wouldn’t let him out.

  I thought they wouldn’t trust me after that, but Guy merely prayed for my salvation and commended me for breaking the grip they had on me, and Rayna likened it to the curse of her ancestors - she had naught but empathy for me even before we became intimate. It really would be a shame to not absorb the White Wolves into our party; at least then we’d have an excuse to remain-

  -”Bear!” I hit the breaks, some fool dire bear had picked that exact moment to cross our paths. I narrowly avoided striking the big fellow. “Foolish ball of fur,” I grumbled.

  The mist was heavy on both sides of the car; I wished we had her highness’ magic right now - but she was holding Victor down for his own good at the moment. Though I also wondered whether even she could dispel this unnerving, unnatural murk.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” said Rayna.

  Guy said, “It is a foul black morass, indeed - and I could swear I saw shadows moving unnaturally.”

  I said, “We’re not even in the moor proper - this is a game trail on the south-west edge. Yes, tentacles of fog are slithering out; the Dreadmoor certainly has a long reach, and it’s only expanded since we started this little expedition.”

  I kept it to myself that I got the feeling that perhaps the fog spreading was the work of some fell intelligence.

  The knight stroked his chin as he continued to survey. “Day by day, I wonder less and less how the Darklord has remained hidden-” Guy called out, and pointed to the roadside. "Lo! Over there!”

  I didn’t see anything. “Huh? What do you see?”

  “A large shadow, but now ‘tis gone,” said Guy.” He shook his head. “This place has me standing upon the edge of my own sword.”

  Rayna said, “It certainly does feel as though it’s playing tricks on my eyes.” She shook her head, “There’s something unnatural about it. Feels like we’re being watched.”

  I couldn’t help but agree - as I continued to drive us further into the mist.

  Nenewyn

  “The little one’s getting nice and plump - I’m glad…she was skin and bones when I found her. A scion of the Andaure family…they were good friends, and I mourned their loss. That I could at least save one of their children is a blessing. How long had the poor thing been wandering, I wondered?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Nice and plump? Really, Master Tarian?”

  I closed the book, halfway between cringing and giggling. I had half forgotten that there was a time where I was small and a little on the chubby side. Eventually I’d grow tall, average for a highborn elf woman of course but I towered over most of my human classmates. I don’t think I truly started to trim the excess fat until after I took on my job as court mage, but moving on - I had to put it away for now.

  Aye, if this volume ends at a point during my childhood then ‘tis far too old for our purposes. That said, perhaps it may contain secret insights into what happened during the fall of the Gaian Empire - Hanzorian may wish to peruse it after I’ve had a chance to redact all of the embarrassing anecdotes about me.

  I said, “I need a later one, much later.”

  My three helpers were hard at work; Meli was quite the speed reader, and she was busy organizing each piece of writing by date and by topic, whereas Sarian was good at dating documents by way of looking at historical references. Velasco mostly just ran errands. That’s not fair to say - his task was important too. Since he couldn’t read Old Elvish, which Tarian was fond of using in his writings, I had him picking random texts from disparate sections of the warehouse - he was quick on his feet and eager to help.

  “I discovered that Nenewyn has a talent for magic…once she put on the pince-nez specs I had made for her, she started reading my magic tomes cover to cover…”

  Not this one either; not much time passed between these two volumes, it seems. I was still very tiny when I got my specs and wouldn’t have my first growth spurt until my seventeenth summer I think.

  “Still too old,” I said;

  Velasco said, “How about t-this one Miss Nenewyn?”

  The messy-haired wizard passed me a large green tome. How many days had we been going at this? Thanks to Velasco’s diligence, at least we’d finally managed to find the section that corresponded to my lifetime…whose full tale exceeds twelve centuries.

  “...ah, this new class is full of promise just like every passing year, but most notably we are now hosting royalty: Princess Sylfaena of Anaura…quite a rambunctious maiden, full of curiosity and eager to learn. Her highness brought tidings about Nenewyn, who has settled into her role well and even tutored her - of course the little princess badgered me with questions about her, too, and I was more than happy to...”

  I nodded, “Closer, by a long stretch. Good work. Wherever you found that one, we should concentrate our search there.”

  The four of us dragged our desks, school desks borrowed from the surplus locker, closer to the section where Velasco had found the journal mentioning Sylfie. More time passed, and I started to worry about the sole human among us - he was starting to look exhausted. I think I knew why he was working so hard, without sleep and with very little food.

  “I owe her mother my life,” he’d said. “So of course I volunteered to help!”

  I sighed. That doesn’t mean you should work yourself to death; what would her majesty say if you died from overexertion. I think Sylfie’s big sister tendencies are rubbing off on me. I myself was beginning to tire and I thought that perhaps a good night’s sleep might recover my cognitive functions; we elves require less sleep than humans, but even I have my limitations. The day hadn’t been wasted though: I found one of Tarian’s old spellbooks, as I’d hoped. There was one in particular that I was very keen to learn, one that could make our mission just a little easier.

  The next day we got straight back to work after breakfast - we didn’t need anyone to cook it, since the utensils could all be set to do all of the work autonomously with a command word; hockety-pockety, I think it was. However, Meli insisted on giving us a culinary tour of her homeland: fluffy unflavored biscuits covered in thick off-white gravy among other things. I realized that Velasco was nowhere to be seen. Surely he’d-

  I hurried myself to the spare room he’d been sleeping in - nowhere. Gah! The fool…I realized he must still be in the study. I found him, lying on his back, holding a nondescript leather-bound journal - he was snoring, sound asleep…gracious, after I’d told him to go to bed.

  I shook my head. “Next time I’m casting sleep on you.” I knelt beside him, conjured a cushion for his head, and took the book he was holding. Huh? On the very first page…

  “...The Grand University of Magic is supposed to be a place of learning, not a crucible of evil. I discovered, in my investigations of the strange happenings around the college…the students that had disappeared…they had been in a secret laboratory. They had been transformed, the body parts of monsters forcibly grafted to them. The chirugeon was at a loss for how to separate the monster flesh from the ones who were still alive…the rest had perished in that foul place.”

  I’d never seen papa write in such a stern hand before, and with such clarity…so, even at his age he was still capable of being serious after all. This has to be what I was looking for. I kept reading, and various pieces of information stuck out.

  “Horrifyingly, attempting to use healing resulted in catastrophic organ failure…”

  “The truth of this affair must needs remain a secret - the immediate families of the deceased will be informed of course…but I do not wish this wonderful place to fall into despair.”

  “...after days of investigation we finally caught him. It was the head of the potions department the whole time. Blast! He’d been slowing down our investigations with erroneous conclusions and false leads. Not only has he been removed from his post, his academic achievements have been stripped…”

  The name, papa, the name!

  “...I have begun to suspect there is something fouler, darker at work…something that I can’t even begin to fathom. Yes, I believe that there may be some persons working together in the shadows for some wicked end…someone pulling the strings behind the scenes, some cohort that the potions master belongs to…”

  Does this mean what I…? Surely no road leads down this path…

  “I have felt this way for a long time, ever since the fall of the Gaian empire…though I lack proof, I suspect that the catastrophic and calamitous fall of that great human civilization may have been caused by a clandestine organization whose entire purpose is to destroy. I know that I’ve put an end to various schemes and plots over the centuries, but, there is too much of a pattern to some of them for me to not suspect there must be some intelligence guiding the chaos. Even with all my power, all my magic, I couldn’t save the Gaians - I am all but certain that no-account Expanius had a hand in it. If such a group truly exists, they’re truly diabolical - but yet again, I may be seeking answers for my own failings…”

  I recalled something that Princess Illiana had mentioned, regarding her encounter with Fayd - something he’d let slip..what was it again?

  “He said they did it because Archmage Tarian had foiled some of their plans in the past.”

  This all but confirms it: Tarian had been fighting a secret war with an enemy whose name and face he knew not. I continued to read the journal page.

  ”Regardless of whether an old elf’s ridiculous idea is true, the University must needs improve its screening process for hiring…or we may have another Professor Mohlda on our hands in the future…”

  “Mohlda. So, the potion master’s name was Mohlda,” I muttered. I could have sworn I’d heard that name before - as though someone had said it in passing recently.

  Before I could think upon it further I heard a loud, lowing noise…the boy was snoring. I smiled, and proceeded to use a sleep charm to deepen his slumber; it had a side effect of bringing strange dreams, but at least it was certain to be restful. I formed one of my force disks, picked Velasco up with telekinesis, and laid him on top of it.

  The young mage mumbled in his sleep “...tears on the pages...found em…tears on pages…”

  Curious, I re-opened the journal and examined the page I’d just read - sure enough, there were distinctive moisture marks where Master Tarian had been writing about the sorrowful events he’d born witness to. In addition to the marks where the physical manifestation of his grief had fallen, I realized that his letters were also shakier than usual. Because he couldn’t read the letters, Velasco had searched for other clues and found exactly what we needed.

  “You really are a sharp lad.”

  Once I had dragged Velasco back into one of the beds and tucked him in, I rejoined the others at breakfast. But before I partook of the obscenely overloaded plate Meli laid before me, I sent Sylfie a transmission. Now what was that thing Victor was fond of saying, fully deadpan, while saluting? Ah, yes.

  “...Mission, accomplished. Professor Mohlda, potions master, grafted monster parts to students, some died. Healing magic hurts them. Description: nonhuman, longer-lived.”

  Everything was coming together.