An Ocean of Lies (AFOS II)

Chapter 33 : Laurentius

Wyn, find Wyn and get out of there. Nothing else mattered.

His footsteps echoed, mixing with the soft jingling of his jewelry; the High Priestess' voice followed him across the corridors, nonsense of salvation, the creators mercies and their many gifts to the world. He didn't care to pay attention. He could feel tiny beads of sweat pooling on his forehead, his perfume rising off his chest with the heat. He fumbled with Koldo's wand, tightly pressed to the side of his pocket. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. Most of the Onturian Knights were guarding The Heart, but there were bound to be more than just a handful waiting by the Keeper's chambers, where Wyn was supposed to be. He was running out of hallways already; that turn, to the left, had to be the last.

A rush of icy air hit him on the face, cooling his sweat and partially stiffening his clothes. A circle of Onturian Knights, their swords partially unsheathed, a staff half-risen, stood frozen around a large wooden door. Laurentius gasped, sniggering. He clinked the icy armor of one of the knights with a polished fingernail, then listened to its bell-like echo. He pressed his ear to the knight's chest, focusing as hard as he could. A faint, slow, heartbeat. They were alive. Encased in ice, immobile, but alive.

Laurentius chuckled.

Wyn had mentioned "other bombs", but never specified which ones. Freezing bombs weren't exactly new in her arsenal, but the implementation was exquisite: those living ice-sculptures would make any frost mage specialist jealous. He was a little jealous, by Ontur's knee crusts. He smiled to himself: no doubt she perfected her formulas right under Jo's grandmother's nose. No surprise there, really. He saw the little girl in the market next to the college a lot.

He looked away from his frozen friends for a bit. They wouldn't be a problem, not until they decided to thaw, and that would certainly take a while. He examined the door: big, wooden, menacing and full of runes. Fire, ice, and electricity, judging by the patterns; the thing was, well, that that was it: just patterns. The runes should've been ablaze with light and colors, emanating magic, a deafening low hum, strong enough to give him tinnitus and power depleted staves in a ten-meter radius— but it was dark. Not a single speck of magic. Wyn had done an impeccable job, but: how? What had she done, exactly? He took a step back. No. He couldn't be afraid of Wyn. She was just a little girl who murdered his slaver master in cold blood. She's not just a little girl, Laurentius. She's dangerous. That little voice in the back of his mind. He wanted to push it, but could hardly ignore it; that voice was, after all, his own subconscious speaking. What else didn't he know about her? Wyn was quiet. She could do all those wonderful things, deadly things. She was dangerous. But she was like a little sister to him, she would never turn on him like that, would she? Would she? He took a deep breath, his hands shook as he pushed the heavy door; it felt warm under his fingers, alive. It still had some magic left. Not enough to harm him, but he could feel it pushing him back, a tingle in his skin as electricity burned his nerves and traveled through his body. He jumped, falling on his knees, right over a potted plant. He managed to save it before making a mess.

He brushed the dirt off his clothes, fixed his hair and rings. He checked Koldo's wand one more time: it was still safe in his pocket. As he closed the door, he looked around; it was a hexagonal room, filled with bookshelves, potted plants such as the one he almost graciously destroyed. There were no windows, opposed to the rest of the building. A large, dark box filled with furniture, illuminated by nothing but firedust lamps; a small prison-like room, he would've thought, if he hadn't known better. How did those plants get sustenance? He bent to inspect a leaf, but immediately shook his head: no, he was there to find and retrieve Wyn, there was no time to waste in scholarly curiosity. He could take a small sample, though. No harm in that. He snipped a branch and put it in his pocket, for later.