It took the wounded and battered soldiers several days to retreat to Agrenon. The guard took them in and quickly sent men to fetch healers from the temples around the city. Commander Geoff and Captain Simon were summoned, alongside the other Guard Captains. The guards listened intently to the story, a bit stunned at the display of viciousness by the goblins. No one had any knowledge of a time in recent memory where such a group of monsters had gathered, let alone possessed the tools or magic to breach a fort's stone wall with such ease. A messenger was immediately dispatched to Theonaght's capital, Tenstone, for orders and reinforcements to take back the border garrison. Sitting in the Commander's office, one of the soldiers asked to speak to Geoff and the captains alone. After the rest had departed, the man leaned in with a worried expression. "There's another bit of oddness to the whole thing. The night of the attack, a man arrived on a wagon with one of the farmers who brings us grain and whatnot. He had an eyepatch and looked rather young. Bill, who was manning the gate when the pair arrived, said the man identified himself as 'Avdren' and claimed to be just passing through."
"Why is that suspicious, Corporal…?" Geoff trailed off, waiting for the man to fill in his name.
"Ahh, apologies. Name's Jack Hernst, sir." The corporal sat up a bit straighter. "Well, it's suspicious to me, sir, 'cause he fled durin' the attack, left the farmer to die, and took the horse. On one hand, he did appear to 'ave killed a goblin and didn't attack any of us. I can't really blame 'im for runnin' neither. It was no place for an untrained man that night. Part of me couldn't help but think he wasn't telling us the whole truth, though. Just figured I should mention it." His tale done, Jack sat back quietly and waited until he was dismissed. Simon and Geoff pondered the story, and while Geoff didn't personally know Avdren, Simon couldn't bring himself to believe the young man had anything to do with the situation other than terrible luck. He must still be without his magic, Simon mused. The man I knew would have stayed to help.
While the soldiers returned to the city, Avdren slowly rode northward. The trip was mostly uneventful, though he did have Beth run a few different times when he heard wolves howl. By the time the sun set on the second day since fleeing the garrison, Avdren and the horse had made it back down to the lowlands and into a warmer climate. Once away from the mountain, Avdren had allowed them to rest, though his sleep was fitful, and he awoke feeling like he had barely slept. He knew the curse was progressing, but the speed at which it seemed to sap his strength felt strange. He didn't expect the loss of magical energy in his body to compound the effects so quickly. He managed to sleep slightly better the next night, and around midday, he came to the outskirts of Elmerton. He decided not to go into town right away, instead circling east at a crossroads south of the city. He had a rough idea of where the old home was from reading one of his father's journals. It was supposed to be only a half-mile or so from Elmerton, and not far from the road. Elm trees, which the village was named for due to the lumber it produced from logging them, supposedly hid the house a bit. So Avdren was a bit shocked when he turned a corner in the road and saw the house rather prominently down a slightly overgrown side path. He urged Beth down the path at a trot until they broke free of the low shrubbery and into the meadow where the house sat. The roof looked to have collapsed in several places. Moss and ivy covered the old stone walls. The well was still standing, though the bucket rope seemed to have rotted away. "So.. it seems we were rich even when they lived here." Avdren looked around at the meadow, realizing that he could see spots in the earth where trees had been uprooted and new saplings planted to replace them. Of course, the loggers would have cut down the old elms around the house, since it was abandoned. He dismounted, leading Beth over to tie her off to the old well. Avdren gave her neck a pat and her chin a scratch before leaving her to snack on the grass and wildflowers.
Avdren picked his way through the remains of the house, searching for anything he could find that would help. The place had clearly been looted, and only crumbling or rotting bits of furniture or other worthless items were left. He found a few books strewn about, but the writings in them were worthless. He made another round before going outside and circling the perimeter of the building. His father's journal had mentioned a cellar of some sort, and Avdren hoped it had gone unnoticed by any thieves. Could he really call them thieves? His parents had abandoned this place, and people needed money. He couldn't begrudge them for doing it, folks had to survive somehow. He made it around back of the house and noticed a strange marking carved into one of the lower foundation stones. It resembled something similar to the Crintis Atrim. With a foot, Avdren pushed on the stone, but nothing happened. He crouched down, examining the marking more closely. A thin groove ran down the stone from the carving and into the earth below. "Ahh, shit. Really?" He drew the knife, pricking the end of a thumb with the blade before pressing the wound to the stone. The blood dripped into the carving, weaving through the lines until it found the groove and ran down into the dirt. A low rumble vibrated his feet, and he stepped back, sheathing the knife and sticking his bloody thumb into his mouth to slow the bleeding. "A ward attuned to blood. I guess that's better than needing magic, or I would have been stuck."
As the earth shifted, Avdren waited patiently, peering down into the gloom with a bit of hesitation. When the spell finally ceased its activity, he mustered his nerve and stepped down the stairs. The air was dank and musty, and he swept cobwebs out of his way with his good hand. When he made it to the base of the stairwell, a torch next to him sprang to life, along with a few others that dotted around the room. Avdren took in his surroundings. There were several tables still covered in pages scribbled with notes, some alchemy supplies, and a few bookshelves. The whole place was surprisingly clean, despite the odor, and he wondered if there was another spell preserving the place. "Well, let's see what you two were hiding down here…" Avdren began the arduous task of looking through all the books strewn about the different tables. Most were written in the common tongue, though a few were in other languages. Most appeared useless at first glance, and so he set them aside to double-check later, but a handful were journals. He collected all those on one table and sat down to read. The pages of each book were filled with notes from research and experiments. Different potions, reagents, and spells. All marked as failures. Several notes about magical items imbued with the power to remove curses, a few of which seemed to have been added to the collection, were marked as having been destroyed when his parents attempted to use them. "Why the hell would you go get a priest if you already knew a remove curse spell wouldn't work?" Avdren smacked his forehead on the book repeatedly, in frustration. Desperate times, I guess. They had to approach every possibility. The fact that they had him to use as some sort of test subject was proof enough of the lengths Trev and Amelia would go to in an attempt to save themselves.
Reading through the rest of the books took several hours and yielded no luck in any notes about the loss of magic or the inability to connect to a spell book. Perhaps this was more to do with the spell that man had cast than anything else. Snapping was a logical conclusion, but Avdren didn't know of every single spell out there, and there were ones he did know of that did some pretty amazing things. Standing with a yawn, he stretched his stiff muscles and looked around the room again. The bookshelves caught his eye again, and he moved over to glance through one of them. By the titles written on the spines, he could see most were various fictional books. Several looked to be collections of myths and legends. "Must be how they learned about some of the magic items, I guess. Braeden always said legends are born from some bit of truth." He moved over to the other bookshelf, discovering much of the same, except for one book near the bottom, which caught his eye. The Inked Wizards. Avdren pulled it out, looking at the cover in silent curiosity. The cover portrayed a symbol he thought he recognized, but couldn't place exactly. He couldn't seem to pull his gaze away, so he flipped open the cover and sat back down at the table. The first few pages didn't seem to contain much aside from artistic depictions of several people with symbols painted on their arms and hands. Each of the symbols was different, but still seemed strangely familiar to him. He flipped another page and began to read. "Inscribed in this book are the records of The Inked Wizards, a reclusive sect of people with a strange connection to magic. These mages, unable to bind to a spell book, utilized a different method of…" His voice trailed off, and he sat up a bit straighter in the seat. Frantically, Avdren read through the rest of the page, then on through the next. "The Inked stumbled upon an unusual spell that opened more of their body and mind to the natural magic of the world…" The book went on to describe the ritual and list out several ingredients. Ink, Poppy, Wormwood, Chamomile, and…blood.
Avdren leaped to his feet, scrambling for the stairway and back out into the yard. He startled Beth, who let out a whinny of protest. "Sorry, girl." Patting her neck, he untied her rope from the well and swung himself onto her back. "We have to get to town," he dug his heels into the mare's flanks and gave a holler while the horse bolted down the path back to the main road.