Illiana

  Red Lightning, adventuring party founded in the city of Caer Caradon, has officially accepted its third member. Malcolm Kavian is a complicated man. Some times I think that I shouldn't trust him but, Sir Victor seems to believe that he can be reformed and I trust Sir Victor completely. Yes, even if worst comes to worst I know he'd protect me - I say that a lot because I believe in him. The fact is, while we were walking about Malcolm had offered to have a pain collar put on him or even be subjected to a powerful geas, but Sir Victor declined. The two of them were getting along surprisingly well considering that they'd just met; laughing back and forth at one another, trying to find common linguistic ground with puns and other things. I smiled. Sir Victor was a very amiable sort, even towards people who should be his enemies by all rights.

  It isn't that I can always tell what a person is feeling, but, especially intense emotions, both good and ill, radiate from others and I can feel it. That is how I knew that there was something desperately wrong with that talented performer; my word, talented is an understatement! Juggling fireballs is quite a feat, and then there was that display on the ceiling that he and Meli had worked on. I rather enjoyed dancing with Sir Victor, and I was surprised at how nimble he was for a human but that isn't important right now. The three of us were now in the suite meeting area; Malcolm was going to use the sofa while we were still here, but I didn't know how long that would be. Well, I mean, that's why we were having this strategy meeting as we needed to figure out what preparations we had to make.

  "All right Mal," Sir Victor, "do you recall exactly where inside the Grimdark Forest this base is?"

  Malcolm had his chin resting in his palm and he was lazily moving his eyes over the map, "it was past the darkborn elf village of Ara Lahee, for certain, then northwest. I think there was a lake with a waterfall, yes, I remember the sound."

  Ah, yes, he had been blindfolded when he first went there, and it was so dark when he left that he could hardly recall any details of the route beyond scents and sounds. They'd put the blinds on outside the darkborn village and he was facing northwest at the time: he didn't feel like he'd changed direction much. If the lake wasn't on the map then it must have been deep in the forest and too small to be noted, or perhaps it'd been formed recently.

  Sir Victor nodded, "yeah, so lookin' for a lake with a waterfall northwest of there. We're gonna need to give them dark elves a talking to."

  I said, "darkborn," reminding Sir Victor about our naming conventions. Highborn, moonborn, darkborn, woodborn, primalborn, eastborn, seaborn, among others. The darkborn weren't among the elvish folk whose ancestors had actually beheld Elianora in the time of myths - the lightborn who beheld her became the highborn after that. Even other varieties of elf that had not been touched by her, such as the primalborn, the woodborn, and the seaborn, still revered her as they ought to - the mother goddess of all elves. I sighed, I wondered why the darkborn stubbornly refused to acknowledge her almost wholesale.

  I'd never met a darkborn elf who wasn't an insufferable poch towards me but, that said, I know if I saw one being attacked by orcs or bandits I would come to her aid in a heartbeat. No doubt. They are still elves, after all, and well, healing the innocent is just in my nature, you know? Devilborn are another story, but, yeah, I'll not speak of them right now. Anyroad, yes, humans in general tend to forget the "born" part, I suppose they simply prefer shorter words due to the rather clunky nature of their languages.

  Sir Victor acknowledged me with a nod, "right, darkborn. Sorry. So then, this part of the Grimdark forest lies within the Cara Kingdom but part of it goes off the local map and," he switched to a broader map, "huh, the national borders seem to kinda skirt around it, and this whole area up north."

  I said, "that's an uninhabited wilderland between the kingdoms of Cara and Hylaria; simply named The Hylaria Wilderland. Ah, yes, you're from another world so allow me to elucidate: what differentiates a wilderland from a simple wildland or wilderness is a high concentration of monsters and magical phenomena - so much so that unlike ordinary patches of wilderness, no kingdom will lay claim to it and very few would consider living there."

  Sir Victor stroked his chin, "I see. Yeah, who would wanna rule over a place like that and potentially commit to sending the extra men that'd be required to protect any subjects dumb enough to set up shop there when there's a perfectly good river they could build a town next to? So like, is there a wildestland too which is even worse or what?"

  I shook my head, then Mal chimed in unexpectedly, "ohhh there are far, far worse places than a wilderland, old boy. No but they are not called something so," he paused, gesturing with his arms, "fitting as wildestland. That would have actually implied that the ancient civilizations of man, who so named them as they fell to the predations of their own creation, were a clever sort and not ones given to follies of a legendary magnitude. No, those are called wastes - oh yes, you might be tempted to refer to a mere desert as a wasteland but, the waste in particular I have in mind, and for whom the lore doth run deep, is far, far, far worse."

  He was quite correct. I was stunned. I knew which wasteland he meant, a place of terror and legend. I shuddered to think of it, and most refused to even speak its name. I had no idea there were those among the shorter lived folk who actually went to the effort of studying the topic of the wastes and their origins - most of them had come about due to magic disasters, two ley lines colliding for instance, or some had been the battlefields of gods, I digress. But that one? That hellish place was man-made; not that elves were entirely innocent in that incident, though, in fact we were complicit in the folly of the ancient humans. I wondered exactly how much he knew, perhaps he knew even more than I did; I do not count myself "among the wise" and have only heard a few things about the subject myself, but a human even alluding to it was rare at the best of times and one who had seen so few summers as he knowing anything was almost unheard of.

  Huh? Was Sir Victor asking me for confirmation and I'd failed to hear him? With these ears? Gah! And I dare call myself an elf!

  Flustered, I nodded, "y-yes, he has the right of it, Sir Victor. Malcolm, you seem to know a great deal, it's impressive."

  Malcolm said, looking wistful "well I can't say that I earned that knowledge for myself, I merely read what others compiled over centuries of intense research, but, I thank you, your highness."

  I'd have curtsied if I'd been standing, instead I simply smiled and said "ah, pray think nothing of it. If we are to adventure together, we should know about what each of us is capable of and I would consider a wealth of historical knowl- no, I am not giving it enough credit. What you are touching upon is beyond historical, that is the sort of topic that even very few elves are well-versed in. But, well-"

  Malcolm nodded, seeming to have realized where I was awkwardly stumbling, "ah, you wish to know what else the trickster Malcolm Kavian can do. First, I am what you would call a triple threat: I can sing, act, and dance. But that's hardly the tool kit of a dungeon-plunging adventurer so I shall move on. As one well-versed in trickery, I suppose I've a knack for spotting trickery myself," he paused, grinned sheepishly and said "well except for the trap that you two laid!"

  Genuine laughter, I prayed, followed. He cleared his throat, "barring special exemptions I can typically spot a dungeon trap or something similar and then use specialized tools," he glanced at Sir Victor, a finger on his own lips and one eyebrow raised, "we'll need to purchase some of those, yes," Sir Victor wrote something down in that notebook of his, "in order to render the trap inert - magical ones too."

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  I asked, "you've been to a dungeon before, Malcolm?"

  He nodded. "I have, only once though, and, once again, thanks to a drunken bet that I made in my careless youth. Quite frankly I'm lucky to be alive after a plunge like that - but I managed somehow, and earned an achievement patch to boot: Delirious in a Dungeon. It did little to soothe the ache, but, at least I got paid. Yes, it had already started, even back then."

  He shook his head as though in an attempt to shake away some shadow, "but no matter. That man is dead. Anyroad. With the same sorts of tools I can also pick locks, even some of the really archaic puzzle types and those silly little secret doors the dwarves are oh so fond of. With my present mastery of light, sound, and pattern magic I am a certified illusionist!"

  Malcolm proceeded to mouth an incantation, waving his arms and hips, then what appeared right before our eyes was a vaguely translucent full-sized illusory facsimile of a human woman with a frilly red dress holding a lacy hand fan. Furrowing his brow he concentrated and the imaginary figure became opaque, then he tightened his features and the woman started to fan herself and laugh. Then he sighed, clenching his fist, and the woman continued doing what she did. The mana flow from Malcolm stopped, the effect having stabilized.

  Sir Victor cried out some idiomatic interjection, and clapped. I did the same, actually, though with more of a subdued "oh my," rather than Sir Victor's seat-hopping reaction. What's a holodeck, why would it be holy, and I'd sworn he'd mentioned Batman before but…I'll pry later.

  Mal did what Sir Victor called a do-si-do around the illusion with his chin cradled, the other arm crossed underneath, "Hmm, only a three-second loop? I'm getting rusty. Well, this thing will last for a matter of hours, unless of course I dismiss it," he turned away from us, standing between us and the effect of his spell. Then he snapped his fingers, and the illusion discorporated into a cloud of motes while he waved dismissively. He spun around, and then, pantomimed a wind instrument to his lips, and I heard an actual two-key chime as though from a real instrument. Oh! I had thought he would merely make a pretend instrument noise or shout "ta-da" or something.

  I said, "that was a sound spell, wasn't it?"

  Malcolm nodded, "yes, I can even cast them soundlessly. Er, I mean without incantations."

  Sir Victor had a mischievous grin - he can be such a…such a boy! "Can you duplicate…any sound you want with that?"

  Malcolm did that exaggerated deep thought pose with his chin in the crook of his hand, thumb and index finger extended with the latter resting on his cheekbone, eyes to the ceiling, and said "yes, if I've heard it at least a few times I can, with a little sprinkle of pattern magic, create a new variation that I can call up without much thought."

  What was that thing Sir Victor was doing on his strange device, huh, those colorful circles what are those for - oh nevermind I'm sure it's for some exciting purpose. I marvelled at the possibilities, after all, it was his idea to put that moon display on the ceiling and, sure, that had a greater purpose, but I could tell that he just wanted to see if he could do it - for the sheer enjoyment of trying something new. That dance, I'd think upon it more, much later.

  "Hey wait a sec," said Sir Victor, "princess, could ya tell whether that thing was alive?"

  I hadn't thought much of it, but yes. When I saw the woman she was so life-like that I instinctively activated lifesense and - "Ah!" I realized something, in that moment I had not only seen Sir Victor and Malcolm's life signs, I was seeing them both at the same time, and a distinct void where the woman had been when it turned on, "could it be that my lifesense gift doesn't merely tell me whether a specific creature is dead or alive, specifically, but in sooth, does it allow me to feel life where I find it and an absence of it where it ought be?"

  Sir Victor smiled, nodding "guess we found a new use for it. Up until now, you'd been glancing at specific corpses and assumed it was targeted; now we know it's an area effect. It ain't just dead guy, living guy at all - there's a third option: guy who ain't ever been alive to begin with."

  I nodded, astounded, "if my mother hadn't timed her pilgrimage so poorly; we had only discovered that I'd inherited her gifts, that I, too, was one of her chosen, after she left. I am certain she'd have liked to have taught me more." I turned pale. "Gah! I'm so sorry! Here I am speaking of my mother when yours-"

  Sir Victor gave me that assuring smile, "I was too young to remember her or my pops. Besides, I had my grandparents to care for me."

  "I won't speak fondly of the late Lord and Lady Kavian either," said Mal, oh that was surprising, "they were a couple of corrupt noble stiffs who would have been consumed by greed had the consumption not taken them first," he grinned, "well enough sad talk, how about I continue expostulating on my talents?"

  Huh? Malcolm, don't just say grim things about your childhood and leave it at that!

  Sir Victor, said, "agreed, but you and I must discuss the fact that your language has a similar illness, named after a conjugation of the word consume, later."

  Malcolm grinned wider and gave a confident snap-point gesture, "yes! I find the topic of linguistics fascinating, ah, to think I'd feel fascinated again. Where was I, oh yes," he snapped his fingers and vanished, then he reappeared, "I can turn myself invisible. I can also do it for others, but it is a complex process that I don't think I could pull off more than a handful of times per day before I needed to nab the nearest stuffed bear and fall off to dreamland - such a complex weaving of arcane power needs a great deal of mana in order to last long enough to be useful! Oh well, I am sure that with practice I'll be able to do it more often, and last longer".

  Sir Victor interjected the word "phrasing" for some reason - that goofy, crooked smile - wait, Malcolm was raising an eyebrow - is it possible that he noticed it too? Am I finally not the only one who just knows when he is making some sort of allusion to some joke or quote from his old world because he has such an obvious tell? Well I mean Big Brother did but only because I told him about it! Very well, I smiled. I'll ask him about it when Meli and I take him to buy clothes. Mayhaps this can be something we can share together!

  Malcolm continued, "As for that little parlor version of it, that was a lesser version that really only works on myself and only for half a minute, tops, that one is novice-grade and has the appropriate appellation of Blink. Well, some call it Vanish instead but, it's a matter of regional tastes really. Let's see, I have dabbled a little in shadow magic as well, ah, old boy, I see that you assume that's something sinister, but fear not! It is merely the opposite of light magic, the two disciplines are linked and are only distinguished academically because yada-yada the intelligentsia blah, different interactions with undead, and they ramble on. Yes, the spells are distinct, as making light and creating darkness actually take different incantations and patterns of magical energy. I can lighten or darken, hm, about a thirty foot radius area, and I can operate light-based magical tools from a distance, which you likely saw at the ball."

  "Hold on," Sir Victor said, "isn't shadow just an absence of light?"

  "Normally, you'd be correct - but in the case of darkness created by shadow magic, it can get so deep and so dark that normal light can not pierce it. Oh the darkborn elves are good at that one, mine is only good enough to make a room more suitable for a romantic dinner. Yes, rather than merely subtracting light, it adds darkness. An important distinction!"

  There it was again, that academic affect he adopted whenever he'd speak upon magical theory. Nenewyn and Sylfaena occasionally spoke in such terms and they'd both been students at - that was when it hit me!

  I said, tentatively "Malcolm, did you attend the Grand University of Magic?"

  Malcolm nodded, "yes, it is as you guess - and indeed, that is how I came to know so many things, I was glued to the library. My late maternal grandmother was a professor there. It was she who would spirit me away to attend classes, with my parents' permission mind you - hmm now that I think on it, that was the last time of my life where I felt happy. Yes, literally my time as a schoolboy gallivanting with a wise old magus and reading mountains of books. In case you hadn't guessed, gran-gran was actually a fairly powerful wizard and even had the power reserves to teleport me to school and back."

  He cast his gaze down, and I wondered just who his grandmother was and how it was that she had passed - wait - I froze. A powerful wizard from the Grand University, capable of teleporting, who died when he was a child? No, it can't be related to that incident, surely? That time the University was gripped in the talons of horrible despair, surrounded by suffocating a storm of death.