“This is kinda disappointing.” Shar’s voice echoing in the sparse stone chamber seemed to only interesting thing in it.

 

Kemle frowned as she looked up from something that may have been a carved tablet at some point but now resembled nothing more than a vaguely rectangular rock. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, it’s all the same, isn’t it? We’ve gone through three rooms and they look just like the ones near the entrance.”

 

Leb snorted as Kemle stood and wiped her hands on her robe. “It’s all the same place, so of course the architecture is going to be the same.”

 

“I don’t mean that. Here, let’s try this hall. It’s just…where is everyone? The city died when it was attacked, right? Shouldn’t there be dead bodies and…I don’t know, old weapons? Or at least some old furniture.”

 

Leb shrugged. “I thought of that too but I just assumed everything had been looted or broken.”

 

“Mind the loose stone here. Who loots furniture?”

 

“I don’t know. Chairlatans?”

 

“That was terrible.”

 

“Thank you. Here’s another room. Ooh, it actually has something in it.”

 

“Can you imagine Tolfdir’s reaction when he sees all this? He’s going to have a heart attack.”

 

“He’ll want to study each room in detail before moving on to the next. It’ll take a year just to get as far as we are now.”

 

“Speaking of studying, this room looks like maybe it was a classroom. It has a lectern in the middle. Is that a book?”

 

 “You know what it doesn’t have? An exit. Guess this is a dead end.”

 

“What do you suppose those metal plates all around the walls are? They look sort of like doors. Except without any way to open them.”

 

“Maybe they’re nooks for storage or something. We can look at one in a moment but first, look at this book! It looks almost like new! I wonder…”

 

Shar lifted the book and blew on it, sending a cloud of dust into the air. As she did so, a soft click filled the room followed by a violent clang. They turned as one to see a barred gate had slammed closed behind them, sealing them in the room.

 

“Well, sh…”

 

“What did…”

 

“Put it…”

 

“What is…”

 

Was as far as they got before the six metal plates slammed forward, dropping to the floor with an even louder clang that left Aithne’s ears ringing. She barely heard the screams of the other students as six blackened figures stepped out of the niches revealed by the dropped doors and raised ancient but still very effective-looking weapons.

 

Panic coursed a path through Aithne’s veins and she found herself unable to move or even think. A familiar blackness welled up inside her; her doubts and fears crashed through her tenuous barriers and paralyzed her. All she had been through, all she had done, it all came to…

 

“Move!”

 

Shar’s shout sent a shock through Aithne and she snapped back to herself just as a horror from childhood stories swung a giant axe toward her. She yelped and dove forward, landing on the dusty stone floor as the axe passed through where she had been and took a large chunk out of the lectern with an ear-rending crash.

 

The monster turned as she crab-walked back, then she screamed and rolled as a second one appeared to her left, its sword already arcing down at her. She felt a burn along her back but kept rolling as the sword’s edge lifted a spark from the stone floor.

 

“Fire!” Shar’s voice again, and Aithne spared a glance in the woman’s direction to find her blasting one of the draugr with the Flames spell. The monster made no sound as it lifted its sword but its footsteps wavered as the flames hit it and, moments later, it crumbled to the ground in a pile of smoldering ash.

 

The sight of it galvanized Aithne, helped to clear her mind. To begin to think again.

 

She could fight back. She had the tools. She had the ability. She had…the right. The freedom. She didn’t have to be a victim.

 

Ever. Again.

 

She scrambled to her feet and backed toward the wall as the two draugr approached and she suddenly saw them in a new light. Here it was, personified: the blackness that had been her constant companion for as long as she dared remember. The eroding dark that ate away her hopes, cast her dreams into twisted shadow, drained her confidence until she feared to speak or even move. Her fears, her nightmares made flesh.

 

For the first time, they were in her territory, her ground, her battlefield. For the first time, she could face the blackness in a form she could defeat. She felt the smile that curled her lips only obliquely as she lifted her hands, tapped into the mana that flowed through the room, spoke the words that gave the mana form and purpose.

 

“Gìḍ-neb-miin; peysdab; ratva; iig.”

 

The words came almost unbidden, as if they had been there already and were just waiting for her to speak them, perhaps tapping their feet in impatience while she wallowed in unearned despair.  Flames, the same spell Shar had used, but, as the fire flowed out, extensions for dual-handed and multi-target, then maximized to counter the loss of power from splitting the stream. The fire bursting from her hands split and struck the oncoming draugr. They erupted into flame and each managed one more step before they, like Shar’s, crumbled into ash, their weapons clattering to the ground like discordant bells.

 

Aithne found she was laughing, though she didn’t remember doing so. She cast her eye around the room, half-expecting to discover the rest of the dead things to be defeated as well, but her laugh caught in her throat as she saw one beginning a double-handed downswing at Kemle, who cowered against the wall, face turned away and eyes closed.

 

Without thought but with much desperation, Aithne yanked her fist backward as she shouted, “Kiiv!” The creature’s weapon flew from its hands and she yelped and ducked as it streaked toward her. She heard a booming clang above her as dust and small pieces of stone showered her head then peeked through her fingers in time to see Shar and Leb turn and focus their Flames at the draugr. Two heartbeats later, it crumbled to the floor and the room was filled with a silence broken only by their heavy breaths and Kemle’s sobs. Aithne glanced upward and found the axe buried several inches into the stone wall where her head had been just a few seconds before.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Leb’s voice, and Aithne looked back toward the others. Leb and Shar were leaning over the huddled and shaking form of Kemle, who shook her head.

 

“No! I want to go back.”

 

 Leb nodded. “I think that is a good idea. We should go back and wait for the professors.”

 

 “We can't,” Aithne began but then stopped when she noticed the barred door that had slammed closed had, at some point, opened again. “Oh. Never mind.” She stood, bonking her head on the haft of the axe she had forgotten about. “Ow!” She rubbed her head as Kemle burst into unexpected laughter. Aithne gave her a sheepish smile as she added, “It looks like we have come to a dead end anyw…oh!” She interrupted herself again as she started to notice the room in general.

 

The metal plates that had dropped from the walls had hidden niches in which the draugr had apparently been waiting. Most of them remained just that – shallow depressions just deep enough to hold a human-sized shape. Once open, in fact, they resembled nothing more than coffins embedded in the wall.

 

But one was different- instead of a niche, it had no back and a narrow tunnel leading farther into the ruins snaked away into darkness. Aithne stared at it. Whatever the source of the magical energy she had sensed, it was stronger now and this new tunnel seemed to radiate it.

 

“Do you feel that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Aithne jumped as Shar spoke from right beside her. She hadn’t even noticed the woman approach. Not for the first time, she sent silent curses toward whatever hell Sutfu was surely suffering in. Shar was staring at the new entrance as if it held a secret. Which, Aithne supposed, it did.

 

“What do you think it is?”

 

Aithne shook her head. “I have no idea. But I’m going to find out.”

 

“Yes, we…”

 

“No!” Kemle’s shout made Aithne jump again and she and Shar turned as one. Kemle was standing, supported by Leb, and she glared at both of them. “Are you crazy? We were just attacked! We almost died! We need to go back now!”

 

Shar began, “We were just taken by surpris…” but Kemle was having none of it.

 

“No! You agreed we’d head back the moment something seemed amiss. I’d say this qualifies! It’s too dangerous! We don’t know what other…things might be down here! We need to go back and tell the professors.”

 

Aithne nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. You should all go back and wait for the professors. Tell them what we’ve seen.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘you all?’ We all need to go back!”

 

Aithne shook her head as she turned and faced the new tunnel. “Im going on. There’s something here. I need to know what it is.”

 

“No! We need…”

 

“It’s all right. I’ll go with her.” Shar held up a forestalling hand against Kemle’s continued protests. “Someone does need to be there when the professors show up, though, so I think it is a good idea for you two to head back. They will surely follow as quickly as they can. We’ll be fine until then.”

 

“But…”

 

“They’ll be all right.” Leb’s always calm voice seemed to deflate the last of Kemle’s resistance. She sighed and waved a hand.

 

“Fine. I won’t weep at your funerals.” A pause. “Well, maybe just a little.”

 

Aithne couldn’t hold back a snort and it seemed to have an infectious effect on the others - a moment later, they were all laughing with uncontrollable helplessness. The laughter seemed to act as a balm. By the time it petered out, the atmosphere had changed and they parted ways with hugs and promises to be careful and a newfound sense of hope.

 

Aithne felt buoyant as she and Shar passed into the new tunnel. It was cathartic, having your fears available in a physical form. More monstrosities appeared from time to time as they made their way through the winding halls of the ancient city and her heart felt just a touch lighter every time one of the walking (the things seemed to move without the lurching hitch Leb had demonstrated)corpses collapsed into ash. By the time the two reached the origin of the power they had been feeling, Aithne was practically running.

 

She stopped short when the source came into view. It was enormous. So large, it beggared description. A massive ball that radiated power hovered in the center of a domed room. It was the size of a house. No, not a house. Larger. The size of a Naval galleon, masts included. Maybe larger.

 

The thought of a galleon made her mind wander to…

 

“Wow. What is that?” Shar’s voice broke whatever train of thought Aithne’s mind had started down, for which she felt grateful – it had been over year since she had been freed but there were still things she was not yet ready to face.

 

She shook her head as she turned her focus back on the giant glowing ball. “It’s…”   

 

She broke off when she noticed movement. They had entered the room on a level above the floor, something like a gallery or wide balcony overlooking the room with the ball (or ballroom. She laughed at her own joke in her head). On the ground level, between their position and the ball, sat a chair in front of a table. On the chair sat another draugr. But as she watched, it stopped sitting – it  lurched to its feet, let out a now-familiar growl-shout-moan sound, and pointed at them.  Aithne just had time to shout a warning a get a ward spell in place before a sizzling crack of lightning hit.

 

The impact knocked her back and she stumbled away from the edge.

 

“They can cast magic?!” Shar’s voice cracked on the last word and Aithne shared a glance with her.

 

“I guess this one can. Keep your ward up.”

 

“Well of course, keep my ward up! What do…divines, it’s faster than the others – it’s already up here! Watch out!”

 

Aithne turned just as another lightning bolt flashed out from her blind side. Her ward was a little too late this time – the energy bit into her with a sharp pain that was not unreminiscent of a whip. The pain brought with it memories she had spent ineffectual months trying to bury and her scream was from much more than the pain.

 

A firebolt flew past her head as she stumbled back and it somehow helped to bring her back to the moment. She watched as it smacked the draugr in the chest and…seemed to have no effect. The corpse continued stalking toward them without pause, lifting a bony blackened arm and speaking in a raspy voice words Aithne did not understand. This time she was ready, though, and her ward deflected the bolt as she regained her feet.

 

She glanced over her shoulder at Shar and shouted, “I’ll keep its attention! Get to the other side of it and hit it from the back.”

 

“Good idea!”

 

Aithne shot a couple of firebolts but, after they showed no more effect than Shar’s had, switched to the steady flow of Flames. It had worked well against the other draugr but it seemed to cause this one no consternation – it continued forward, only slowed a bit by the stream of fire.

 

Aithne backed up as it approached, keeping the same distance between them, switching to the occasional ward to fend of its counterattacks. No matter what spell she sent, it had the same non-effect. She started to become concerned when her back thumped against the wall and she had no more space to retreat.

 

“Shar…” she began but then the room exploded into flame. Aithne turned her head and covered her eye with her hands as a wall of fire blasted the draugr. She let loose a triumphant shout as Shar’s Firestorm began to fade, only for the shout to freeze in her throat as the flames burned out to reveal the draugr still standing, looking none the worse for wear. The only difference was that the strength of the spell seemed to have got its attention – it turned and stalked in the opposite direction, toward Shar, as more of its strange lighting bolts flew at her.

 

Shar swore as she deflected the bolts. “I don’t have much mana left! That Firestorm took a lot of my reserves! Can you do that trick you did with Merks?”

 

“No, it doesn’t work against burst attacks like this, unfortunately! It’s okay! When it gets a little closer, I’ll blast it. Hopefully it will turn back toward me and you’ll have time to rest.”

“That will work for a while but sooner or later we’re going to run out of mana. Why can’t we hurt it?”

 

“I don’t know.” Aithne took a deep breath and she began to formulate her Firestorm. “It must be shielded in some way.”

 

“Think it has to do with that giant glowing ball?”

 

“Probably! Okay, here I go.”

 

Aithne loosed her own Firestorm on the draugr as it closed in on Shar. As expected, it didn’t seem to have been hurt. As hoped, it turned back around and headed back toward her.

 

Shar was right – the Firestorm had taken a lot of mana. Aithne judged she had maybe three of them left in her before she ran out of energy. She tried to think of a different solution but panic or desperation seemed to cloud her mind and she couldn’t come up with any alternatives. They didn’t have time – she couldn’t leave Shar alone with the thing and it certainly wouldn’t stand still while they studied the ball.

 

The game of Turn the Draugr went another round – Shar Firestormed it when it got close to Aithne again, then Aithne did the same. After the fire dissipated from Shar’s next turn, Aithne gasped when she saw her classmate was on her knees, one hand holding her up while the other reached for the draugr. She was panting heavily and sweat poured freely down her face.

 

“Shar!” Aithne rushed forward but far too late – the monster’s lightning was much faster and struck Shar with full force. Her scream was short and shrill and then she collapsed in a softly smoking heap.

 

 “Shaaaarrrrrr!” Aithne circled around the draugr and slid to the ground next to Shar, but she didn’t have time to check on her – all her attention went to holding a ward as the draugr seemed to recognize the end was near and redoubled its attacks.

 

The lightning bolts smashed into her ward one after another in continuous waves. Each time Aithne refreshed the ward, and each time she felt a little more of her power drain away. It moved closer step by inexorable step and Aithne found tears forming in her eye as she held Shar’s still body and blocked bolt after bolt, knowing they wouldn't do no good, it didn’t matter. The darkness she had pretended to defeat rose up and overwhelmed her, leaked into every crevice of her being, its whispers of admonishment turned to shouts of gleeful despair.

 

After everything, she was still helpless. Her arrogance was staggering – to think she, a lowly slave, could pretend for a moment to be something more. Perhaps she had been freed by law but here, at the end, she recognized with bitter anguish that Borkul had been right all along. She was nothing. She held Shar with both arms and buried her face in her hair and wept while whispering apologies and waiting for the end.

 

 “Well, what have we here? Phel iig!”

 

Aithne blinked and turned her head toward the sound of the voice to find Professor Tolfdir looking down at them with a quizzical expression. A gaggle of students peered from behind him.

 

“Oh dear, Shar seems to be hurt. Don’t worry, Professor Colette is here. Shar will be in good hands. Come with me, please. The rest of you, keep an eye on our dead friend here. Yell out if he does anything unexpected.”

 

Aithne laid Shar carefully on the ground and stood to shaky feet as the familiar sight of Collette passed by, face concerned. She did not spare Aithne a glance, which, Aithne knew, was just. She did not deserve the attention of a real mage.

 

She followed Professor Tolfdir, only noticing in passing that the draugr was still alive but was frozen in place. That's when her fuzzy mind remembered the words she had heard and recognized it as Purvis’ Paralysis, extended. Her brain began to snap out of its fog so it could find the space to wonder at her own stupidity. Why hadn't she thought of something so simple? Why had they expanded their energy trying to kill the thing when it clearly could not be hurt by them? She berated herself again as…

 

“Now, then.” Tolfdir’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she blinked and looked up. They stood some ways away from the larger group, something that sort of passed for privacy. “Please tell me what everything that has happened. Spare no detail.”

 

“I...” She dropped her head. “It's my fault.” So arrogant! “I felt…something.” She gestured weakly toward the ball. “Probably that. And I insisted on finding it.”

 

Tolfdir shook his head. “I need details, dear, not self-admonitions. Do not worry, you’re not in trouble. Shar will be fine, no one is seriously hurt. These kinds of things are expected during explorations of these old ruins. The important thing is to learn from what happened. So then, let's start from the beginning, please.”

 

Aithne took a deep ragged breath and did so, though she kept her eye on the floor the entire time. She did not explain how they ended up in the prison room nor did she mention Merk's name, just that they were there and she felt something behind the wall.

 

After she finished, Tolfdir rubbed his chin and said, “I see. Well. There is much to discuss but that is for later. First, let us see what we can about this odd contraption.”

 

He led the way down the stairs and joined a growing crowd of professors and students gathered around the ball. It was Aithne’s first good look at it and it answered none of her questions, just added to the ones she already had. She tried probing it with her mind but all she got back in response was fuzzy noise. She shook her head, dropping her gaze again, and that is when she noticed, embedded in the stone base above which the ball floated, that same mark she had seen on the wall, the same mark she knew she had seen somewhere before she still could not place it.

 

As the discussion went on - which involved everyone just asking some form of “what is it” and responding “I don't know” over and over again, she nudged Tolfdir and pointed at the symbol.

 

“Professor, do you know what that symbol is?”

 

He looked at it for a moment then shook his head. “I'm afraid not, my dear. Just one more mystery. Why, do you recognize it?”

 

“I think so. It was on the wall in the prison room. And I could swear I've seen it somewhere before but I cannot remember where.”

 

“Well.” He stroked his beard as he studied the mark. “If you remember, please let me know. It may well prove to be just the thing we need to discover what this is and where it came from.”

 

Aithne nodded. “Shar and I wondered if this thing is why we couldn’t harm the draugr.”

 

“That could be! Let us test something.” Tolfdir studied the ball then spoke some words Aithne did not recognize – or, rather, she recognized them but had never heard them in the way the professor used them - then raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I believe you were on to something! There is a link of sorts between this contraption and the draugr. Let's see.”

 

More words. This time Aithne recognized Greater Ward, maximized. A moment later they heard the guttural cry of the draugr from up above and someone shouted, “It’s moving! Kill it!” There was a sound of commotions and fire and then, to Aithne’s relief, the now all too familiar sound of the draugr crumbling into ash. All followed by a great cheer that reverberated throughout the room.

 

“As I suspected.” Tolfdir looked back up at the ball as his hand went back to stroking his beard. “I believe that, whatever this thing is, it does something similar to that interesting trick you pulled with your duel with Merks. Good job on that, by the way. I have read that passage you submitted the correction for many times and had never caught on to that error. The implications of what you have discovered are massive. But I would hazard to guess that that error was not always the commonly held belief it is today because I believe - and, of course, I must preface this by saying we have only scratched the surface of the surface of this mystery, so I'm making no definite claims - but to me it appears that this did not shield the draugr so much as do something similar to your little trick. It…”

 

A pause and Aithne prompted, “Funneled?”

 

Tolfdir nodded. “The perfect word for it, yes. It funneled your attacks into...well I am guessing into itself. An interesting tool. It sucks in energy to use in order to store energy. Surely there are other uses for it but what they may be is a mystery still. The next mystery,” he added with a laugh, “is how we are going to get this thing out of here. I do not think it will fit through the doors. In the meantime, the students are all heading back and you should join them. Go to the back of the room - there is a doorway where they are gathering with Professor Neloren. The doorway leads to a passage that ends up at a secret door earlier on in this strange layout of a city. Isn't that funny? This is why these old ruins are so interesting – just when you think there is nothing of interest to find, you stumble across secret passageways and giant magic-funneling balls!”

 

Aithne nodded but hesitated. “Um. Professor?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“How did you find the link between this…thing and the draugr? What spell was that?”

 

“Oh, that?” He laughed. “It was Tolfdir’s Sense a Link spell.” He winked. “Very useful.”

 

Of course. She flushed and thanked him and hurried away as fast as her embarrassed feet could take her without going into a full sprint.

 

Arrogant and stupid - there’s a fine combination! Of course he had just made it up to fill the need. She had done the same several times in the past. Where was her brain?

 

Urag’s voice spoke in her head, a conversation from long ago. “You know these spells work. But why do they work? What is it about the words and the gestures that turn mana into biddable energy? Once you understand that, you will understand that the true secret to magic is that its potential is limited only by the imagination of its wielder.” And then, “when it comes to something as volatile as magic, structure is actually stricture. The lessons in these classes are filled with paths long treaded.”

 

And there, she realized as she joined the other students and they began to make their way through the tunnel, is where her problem sat – she had been a full-time student for almost a year and a half, a very short time compared to the others, and she had already fallen into the trap of stricture. She tried to remember the last time she had invented a spell on the spot because she needed something in the moment. The creation of Funneling had been over nine months ago and didn’t really count – it wasn’t the same as the little spells she used to make and had been mostly J’zargo’s idea in the first place.

 

“What happened to me?”

 

The student closest to her said, “What?”

 

Aithne flushed – she hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud. “Um. I was just wondering about this wall.” She motioned at a smooth concave wall they were passing. It stood out since it was made of different stone than the rest of the tunnel and had some form of ancient writing on it that she did not recognize. She ran her fingers along its surface but it just felt like cold stone.

 

The other student shrugged. “It’s just an old wall. Who knows what these ancient people were thinking?”

 

Aithne nodded but didn’t respond, just slowed her steps a little to let the others get ahead of her. The deepest part of the darkness had receded but not to the levels of before. It was no longer a tsunami but it was still high tide. Her doubts screamed louder than they had in months despite Tolfdir’s assurances that all was well.

 

Her hubris had almost cost people their lives. It wouldn’t have bothered her so much if it had just been her life – that was worth little enough. But she had endangered others who did not deserve it.

 

The bitter northern cold and the bright sunlight that greeted her as she stepped out of the ruins were like a double slap on the face. She accepted the first – she deserved the punishment the harsh weather doled out. She was the only student who did not pull up her hood against the chill breeze – but the second seemed incongruous. How could it be so bright out when everything was so dark? It made no sense. She had expected it to be night but it was barely past noon, if the sun was to be believed. All that had happened and only a few hours had passed.

 

She shook her head and followed the line of students up the steep stairs of the scaffolding that had been erected around the digsite. The trek back to the college seemed to take twice as long as the trip there had been.

 

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