Page 78 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Forty-Seven

Though they woke before sunrise, Mavery and Alain remained in bed until they could no longer delay the inevitable.

When they headed downstairs, the sun had fully risen, and Neldren and Ellice were halfway through breakfast. The taproom was largely empty, but the scent of fried meat wafted from the kitchen.

“So much for meeting at first light,” Neldren said. He looked to Mavery and Alain’s entwined hands, then snorted. “No need to explain why you’re late.”

They joined Neldren and Ellice at the table. Benard brought out plates piled high with toast, stewed beans, and sausages, as well as a pot of tea that smelled identical to the bergamot-laced variety Alain brewed every morning. Apparently, that was custom for anyone of Dauphinian descent.

Once again, Benard held up a hand when Mavery brought out her coin purse.

“Saving Ev was payment enough,” he said, then chuckled. “Though, if you lot actually find a way into that ruin, I may change my mind on that.”

“What do you mean?” Alain asked.

“Archstone is the closest village to the Innominate Temple. We get all sorts passing through here, whether they think they’ll be the ones to crack it, or just want to take a gander.

” He shook his head. “Strange idea for a holiday, if you ask me, but the tourists keep business steady during the warmer months.”

“Oh,” Alain said, lowering his head. “I’d…never considered that.”

“In fact, one such adventurer stayed here a few days before you arrived,” Benard said, scratching his beard.

Aside from his facial hair and a smattering of fine lines, he was the spitting image of his younger brother.

“Come to think, he didn’t stop through here on the way back. Hope he’s all right.”

A patron from across the room signaled Benard, who excused himself with a bow of his head.

Neldren pushed his empty plate aside, brandished his map, spread it across the table.

“The temple is somewhere around here,” he said, jabbing a section of the map that depicted the pine forest on the village’s outskirts.

“I did some scouting yesterday afternoon. It’s the same as it was five years ago: all wild land, no roads.

Good news is, we won’t run into any more highwaymen.

Bad news is, it won’t be the easiest hike.

But, so long as we keep a decent pace, it’ll only take an hour or so. ”

Mavery gave Alain a sidelong glance.

“I can manage it,” he said.

“Then hurry up and eat,” Neldren said. “Let’s head out before the day gets away from us.”

After breakfast, Neldren led the group eastward, out of the village and into the surrounding forest. At first, there was a semblance of a path: a thin strip of dead, flattened grass that snaked between the tall pines.

But that soon became lost among the wild grasses and brambles.

This was nothing like the cultivated trail in Weywode Forest. Despite what Alain had said, it was evident that he hadn’t yet fully recovered, and that the hike was taking more of a toll on him than he wanted to let on.

He clung to his staff as he picked his way across the forest floor.

At least his transmutated satchel wasn’t weighing him down.

Though Neldren and Ellice were determined to forge ahead, Mavery didn’t mind falling in step with Alain’s sluggish pace.

Her muscles were still pleasantly sore from last night—and earlier that morning.

Besides, since their trip to Weywode Forest, she’d been eager to return to the wilderness.

The crisp air and gentle breeze left her refreshed, her arcana humming pleasantly.

Yet, even that couldn’t keep her from thinking of what awaited them at the end of this hike.

She took Alain’s hand, gave it a firm squeeze.

“Everything will be fine,” he said. “My satchel is filled with every scrap of research I’ve gathered over the years, and then some. We couldn’t be more prepared for this.”

“You say that now,” Neldren called from several yards ahead. “Just wait until you see it in person.”

The next time Neldren spoke, it was to estimate that they were a mile from where he’d first encountered the temple.

Raw arcana lingered in the air, a faint but steady pulse, like the field music of an army they were advancing upon.

Even from this distance, it was enough to leave a dull ache behind Mavery’s eyes.

She dropped Alain’s hand and rubbed her temples.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she continued to walk, then swore under her breath when she stubbed her toe on something in the underbrush. But the throbbing in her head quickly drowned out that pain. Through her half-closed eyes, she noticed Alain watching on with concern.

“Really, I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s keep going.”

She tried to instead focus on the rustling of the wind through the tree branches, the steady rhythm of their footsteps, the intermittent thud of Alain’s staff.

But with every step that brought them closer to the temple, the magic grew more oppressive.

It was worse than she remembered. They had to be much closer than she’d gotten during her first excursion through these woods.

Before long, mist lingered in the air and her pace slowed to a crawl. A bit further, and that mist became a dense fog, white-hot pain ripped through her skull. She dropped her pack at her feet, then leaned against the closest tree.

“It’s beginning to affect me, too,” Alain whispered as he rubbed her shoulders. “Should I fetch the anti-Sensing potion?”

“Not yet,” she gasped. “Only one dose.”

“Mavery, you don’t need to suffer like this.”

“I know. But need…to see…temple first.”

He sighed. “All right. When you are ready to take it, just say the word.”

She nodded. Though she appreciated his concern, it did little to quell the pounding inside her head.

She continued to lean against the trunk, breathing deeply.

She closed her eyes as she attempted to ground herself, focusing on the tenderness of Alain’s touch, the rough bark beneath her fingertips, the chill of the forest air, the scent of pine laced with it…

She pushed herself away from the tree and snatched up her pack. But a new wave of arcana hit her like a wintry gale, piercing her skin and leaving shards of ice embedded in her bones. Alain caught her before she crumpled to the ground.

“Gods, this magic,” he gasped. “I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”

You’re telling me, she thought, as speaking required too much effort.

Alain offered her his staff, and she clung to it as he helped her to her feet. With one of his arms around her shoulders, they pressed onward.

A few minutes later, Ellice, too, gasped and clutched her head. Neldren, however, continued on as though this were a perfectly normal forest, untouched by powerful ancient magic. Mavery had always judged him for being so weakly attuned to magic that wasn’t his own. For once, she envied him.

The final leg of the journey stretched on interminably.

They inched their way across the forest floor while being battered on all sides by invisible forces.

The fog continued to thicken, and it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead.

At last, they passed through a dense copse, and Neldren came to a halt.

“Gods, I hate this fucking place.”

Even he could no longer ignore the magic, but Mavery was too miserable to find even a modicum of satisfaction from it. She feared that simply cracking a grin would turn her violently ill.

“This is it,” Alain breathed. His fingers gripped her upper arm. “We’re here.”

It took the last shred of her willpower to open her eyes fully.

Just beyond the trees was a column of green light that stretched from the ground to far above the tallest treetops. The sky swirled with thick gray clouds that completely obscured the sun. The ambient light must have come solely from magic.

As Mavery’s eyes adjusted—and as she fought a wave of nausea while attuning her Senses—she realized there was something strange, something untamed, about this magic. Rather than pulsating gently, the green-hued ward thrashed like rapidly boiling water.

But that was all she could take in. Gazing at the magic for even a moment proved too much for her Senses.

Alain’s staff slipped from her hand as she collapsed on all fours.

Pain erupted from her bad knee, and as she opened her mouth to scream, she vomited the remains of her breakfast into the grass.

“Mavery!” Alain cried.

She was about to warn him to stand back, but nausea overcame her again, which had the same effect. She continued to heave until only bile remained. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she eased herself upright, coming to rest on her heels.

“I’ll take the potion now,” she muttered. “Front pocket.”

Alain retrieved the vial within seconds.

She downed it in a single gulp before her stomach could protest. The magic was so powerful, even the potion couldn’t eradicate its effects.

But her headache subsided enough for her to think and see clearly again.

Before, the green aura had been an impenetrable curtain; now, it was a translucent veil.

Within it was a circular clearing where the grass was brown and shriveled, as though nature itself couldn’t withstand the strange magic.

The clearing sloped gradually upward, and atop the desolate mound stood a stone building with a pointed roof.

The temple itself was much smaller than Mavery had expected; it was barely larger than the mausoleums she’d seen in noble families’ cemeteries.

From this angle, the temple appeared to have a single entrance: a three-pointed archway.

Etched into the pediment was the asphodel emblem from Alain’s notebook.

She tore her eyes away from it to look to her left.

Ellice sat in the grass, clutching her head, while Neldren paced and surveyed the area.

To Mavery’s right, Alain sat with the Sensing spell open across his lap.

Mavery retrieved her canteen from her pack, swilled water to remove the taste of vomit.

“It’s green,” she said softly.

Alain looked up from the spell tome. “Come again?”

“The magic around the temple is green.”

He tapped his chin. “What shade of green, exactly?”

“Light green.” She sipped from her canteen as she gave the aura another look. “Sage.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve Sensed that exact color before.”

Her mind was too addled to recall anything at the moment. Alain rummaged through his pack and pulled out one of his many notebooks. She peered over his shoulder and recognized the notes he’d scrawled on the day they’d first met, when she’d described the wards that had guarded his door.

“You associated sage green with my Diversion Ward—or Declan’s, rather.

This confirms it: the temple is protected with an obfuscation ward.

Declan’s spell included an augmentation from the Mysticism School.

But, even by themselves, obfuscation wards are exceptionally complex magic.

So much so, they always require an anchor, and all anchors will have—”

“Ley lines.” Mavery’s eyes widened. “Our spell will reveal those.”

“Precisely. If we can trace the ley lines to their source, we might be able to disable the ward. We’ll need to be prepared to destroy the anchor if necessary.”

“What are you two blathering on about?” Neldren asked.

“We’ve determined that the temple is protected by an obfuscation ward, most likely anchored to an Ether-sensitive mat—”

“In Osperlandish, if you don’t mind.”

“We might be able to get past the warding magic,” Mavery said. “But first, we need to track down what’s powering it.”