He will not fail me, of course. However, Athar's newfound powers will grow exponentially. Now that I know he's not as much of an idiot as I had initially thought, he might prove a formidable ally, or end up complicating and disrupting my plans, he thought on his way to his citadel's version of a ravenry.
As he passed, the violet gloom that lined the dark hallways and walls fluctuated. Once he arrived, he looked around to ensure nothing had changed since he was last there. Everything appeared to be in order and in its proper place.
I'm glad Athar's never wandered this far, he thought, idly picking up one of the many quills on the sizeable metallic desk.
As he pushed dark mana into the air, a score of quills and scrolls floated about the room, aligning themselves in preparation to receive dictation. "Begin," he said aloud, and the feathers scribbled the words that left his mind. He drew even more power and condensed it to his right hand.
The black, swirling sphere in his hand was then cast upon the floor, spawning featherless, winged beasts with sharp talons and pale eyes. "Stop," he commanded, forcing the quills to float back to their original places while the scrolls folded themselves and went into their respective pouches.
He lifted them with tendrils of violet mana and strapped them onto his winged creatures. "Fly now, to the outcast, the hated, the disdained, and most vile of Synners. We have work to do," he commanded. The creatures squawked in reply, their sharp beaks opening widely to let out a deafening cry. Their featherless wings spread wide, flying from the opened window before them, leaving only one behind.
"This one is for the Castle. Take extra care not to make yourself seen by anyone other than him," the Masked One said. The creature flew off through the window and turned in the opposite direction from the others. "So it begins," he sighed, watching the creatures soar into the moonlit night.
Meanwhile, Athar was still in the study practicing his control over the Inar and Exar spells he had learned. Through every spell cast, he sought to remove the books from their proper places, draw them to him, and place them back in their original locations.
I've been at this for hours and still don't know how much I'm progressing. At least, I can't tell, he thought.
There were more than a dozen books strewn across the floor around him. He breathed deeply, trying to recover some of his fatigue.
The headache has lessened a little bit, but my master said that it would take time to get used to it. If I can absorb myself in this newfound world of mana manipulation, I'm sure my master will be pleased, he thought, glancing at his flexing hand with a satisfied grin.
He followed the instructions in the book a handful of times before losing control on the last attempt. He let out an exhausted sigh, but smiled brightly when he noticed the hour-candles had gone down a complete eight markers.
This is more taxing than I thought it would be. I might not like him as a person, but gods above and below, the master is strong. Also, this deathmold solution is still just as unbearable as it was the first time, he thought as he sipped from the vial again, coughing as soon as it left his lips.
I've read through Farengir's book at least twice, but something is missing. Either that, or I haven't figured out this power's real potential. Wait, what's this about a Kyr spell, he thought, flipping through several book pages in his hand, hoping to find an answer.
He observed the diagrams that described the correct motions and quantities of mana required to perform it.
This looks like something I might be able to do, but I'll only try it once since I'm not sure how much more I can take. How long has it been since my master was here? Athar thought, noticing daylight was coming through the small openings far above him.
Alright, last one, he chuckled softly.
Silence, Immolation, Draw, and Return, he reviewed the words in his mind, just before the silence took over.
He reopened his eyes to feel them blacken in the familiar way they had been the last few hours. As he focused, his consciousness was dragged toward the dark sphere again, only this time, he heard an indistinguishable voice coming from the sphere of light now behind him. His eyes briefly flicked to the bright one as it flared up like a flash of sunlight through the window of a dark room, causing him to lose focus and accidentally return to his physical body, and he sighed.
"Fuck," he said aloud.
Just as he did, he heard a dripping sound coming from behind him. He could barely move, much less be able to turn and catch whatever it was that had made that sound.
I've never heard this place drip before. It's not even raining outside as far as I can tell, he thought, reaching for the vial, and took another swig of the disgusting solution.
"Ugh," he shuddered as his face contorted itself. After a few seconds, his vitality returned, and he proceeded to stand.
Shit, I forgot to put away the books, he thought. He stacked them up and placed them on the same shelf where he had taken the first one.
Just before leaving the study, he glanced behind him and chuckled softly. "I'll see you tomorrow," he muttered to no one in particular. He remembered the dripping sound and tried to relocate where it had come from. He observed the ground nearest to the main entrance, but found nothing.
Hmm, it doesn't seem like anything's here after all. Maybe I'm just tired, he thought as he quickly scoured the library for any signs of liquid, but found none.
No, there's no way that was just my imagination. I know I heard a dripping sound coming from somewhere around here, but there doesn't seem to be anything, or anyone, around, he thought as he strode down the gloomy hall back to his quarters.