Mark looked around with extra care. "An unmasked outburst of this magnitude and an illusion spell: I don’t like it."
"Well, we don’t have a choice." It’s going to be fun.
Her last duel with enemy forces had been quite a while back. Thanks to the interventions of the council, she was constantly out on research missions. She had Kevin to thank for putting her in the middle of the action this time. He had informed Mark first and, after a suitable delay, the council.
As they approached the mansion shacks, each created a sphere of protection against possible attacks with the Contego spell for themselves. At the same time, Jen let her senses wander. There was nothing here. Everything was quiet and peaceful, if it weren’t for the whiff of evil that lay over the estate like a dark mist.
"Should we knock politely?" Mark asked.
She nodded.
As he reached for the wrought-iron ring that merged into a goblin’s head, Jen created two fireballs in her hands. This would let her respond in the blink of an eye if necessary. Reflexively, she checked her sigil. It was pulsing evenly, emitting its violet magic essence .
It would take an army to put me in danger.
The loud knocking of the ring clanging on wood echoed in the silence. Nothing. Mark didn’t try again. Instead, he took his essence staff into his hand, set it against the door, and burned a magical symbol into the obstacle. It briefly flared on the wood of the door, then it disassembled into a fine mist.
Together they entered.
The air was full of mold and rot, blended with the unmistakable smell of death. Blood. The hair on Jen's arms rose. Whatever happened here, they were too late. Instinctively, she followed her nose, left the foyer and went up the stairs. The ubiquitous carpet dampened every step. Mark took up the rear. He too had created fireballs, albeit in the green light typical of his magic.
The bodies were in the salon.
Four men and three women, all dressed up. There was a residual hint of black magic in the air. Someone had sucked the life force out of them.
"Shit," Mark uttered. "I hate when we’re too late."
There was a moan.
Jen ran up to one of the men on the floor and knelt down. "Everything’s okay," she said, "we’re here."
Words of deceptive hope. Strands of white hair lay all over the carpet, his skin was covered in age spots. The man would die. Whatever his age might have been a few hours ago, he now was an old man.
"Book," he wheezed, "they wanted the folio."
"I don’t understand…"
The old man interrupted her by using his last bit of strength to grab her wrist. Jen became aware of the pain as it spread through her body. An image appeared, showing an ancient folio bound in brittle leather, fragile pages being turned by a spirit’s hand. Symbols not unlike Chinese characters written in black ink covered the paper. She collapsed. Trembling, Jen lay on the carpet, her face covered in sweat.
Mark came running. "What happened?"
"Guardians," she managed to squeeze out. "The dead were guardians."
His eyes went wide. "But how can that be?"
Jen got up and shrugged. In the library of the Castillo, there was a directory. Listed inside were all the guardian groups and the artifacts under their protection. Many of these objects were so dangerous that they could not be stored with other things. That’s why guardian groups exist. The globe should have told Kevin that when the magic erupted.
Jen went down on her knees next to the now dead man, pulled out her smartphone and took a picture of the man’s wrist. A symbol with intertwined decoration had been burned into the skin. "As soon as we get back, we’ll check that out."
"Should I contact the Castillo? Kevin can get started with the research."
"Not necessary," Jen said, dismissing the suggestion. "He," pointing to the old man, "sent me a vision." She ran for the door. "It’s a folio."
Together they entered the library. Enormous rows of shelves reached high over their heads, filled with books. The usual kind. Fiction, technical literature, books read by non-magical people. The fading sunlight at the end of the day fell through the high windows, immersing the room in an interplay of light and shadow. The scent of old paper that makes every library special was heavy in the air. On a side table lay a newspaper, two days old, as the date revealed, and next to it stood a cup made of the finest porcelain and embossed with a coat of arms.
Jen picked up the cup and smelled its contents. "Black tea."
"It looks like someone was interrupted here during a leisurely reading session." Mark pointed to the floor next to the table, where a book with a stained cover lay.
She nodded. It became clear at first glance that someone had been looking for something here. The foul, rotten smell of dark magic drenched the place. "They attacked a group of guardians and succeeded," Jen whispered. She walked across the room slowly. "How is that possible? This house must have been a fortress, guardians watch over the most dangerous items. And how did they even find out about it?"
Mark went to the shelf and stroked the spines of the books. "Honestly, who can predict what Saint Germain and his mad entourage are hatching next. Nothing good, that’s for sure."
Mark closed his eyes. Frowning, he stepped into the middle of the room. "They tried a localization here."
"They wanted the folio, but weren’t successful." Jen strode up to one of the shelves, climbed up the attached ladder, and pulled out a thin volume.
"Okay," Mark said, "if you call that a folio, we need to talk about the definition again."
"Smart ass." He knew perfectly well that appearances could be deceiving.
Jen placed the book, an old dime novel, on the reading table. The cover showed a brazen-looking pirate with a naked upper torso on the deck of his ship. A woman kneeled in front of him, her head slightly tilted to the side and turned towards the viewer. The pirate’s lips touched her neck.
"Admit it, you’re dying to read it," Mark said.
"Absolutely. I adore romance novels," she said, grinning. "They’re particularly useful for lighting a fire."
She pulled out her essence wand. The spell she was about to cast required the magic to pass directly into the item. It wasn't enough to draw the magical symbols in the air. In order for them to have an effect on the material, an essence wand was necessary. It channeled the magic and transferred it to the object. Nowiz, which was what the magic people called those who were ‘not a wizard’, would probably have called it a magic wand.
She drew the image of disillusion on the paper and linked it with the painting of the group of guardians. A completely new symbol of magic appeared. Her essence wand formed the spell from purple essence which then seeped into the paperback.
The next moment the book twisted, getting larger, thicker, heavier.
"Ta-da!" Jen said.
"So this it is," said Mark. "Strange, I don’t see any black magic emission. What did the Dark Wizards want it for?"
Good question. "Maybe it’s part of the undefined magic and they wanted to shape it." She opened the pages. The characters remained illegible, resembling something like Chinese characters, but on closer inspection, they appeared to be Celtic. "I need a librarian to look over this." She closed the folio.