The trip from the house to Elmerton felt like it took ages. Avdren's mind was running through all the different possibilities with breakneck speed. There was a chance the book truly was a fable, just some tale made up to give children an exciting story. He had read all manner of books, though, and usually the storybooks didn't go into so much detail. Plenty of people still milled about the main street, and Avdren slid Beth to a stop before frantically waving down one of the passersby. "Please, could you tell me if you have an herbalist in town, or if anyone else here sells herbs?" The man looked up in confusion before gesturing down the street.
"Down to that side street and over one. There's a sign." Avdren nodded and urged Beth onwards. "Hey now, don't run nobody over, young man!" The man's shout reached Avdren's ears, and he urged the horse to slow a bit. A few moments later, Avdren saw the sign and slid off Beth as soon as she stopped. He hurried inside, taking a moment to catch his breath before heading over to the counter. A woman sat behind it, crushing herbs in a mortar. She looked up at his approach and gave a smile.
"Hello there, how can I help you?" She paused in her work, wiping her palms on her apron and standing. Avdren took a breath, recalling the supplies he needed.
"I need Poppy, Wormwood, and Chamomile, just a small amount of each. I was also curious if you had any ink?"
"I have all of that…but that's a rather strange combination. I have no knowledge of any potion or tincture made from those ingredients." Hands on her hips, she waited with a raised eyebrow, clearly expecting an answer.
"I'm experimenting. I have the other ingredients I need, but I realized I was out of these. I need the ink so I can document the results." He offered a sincere smile. She seemed to think for a moment before nodding, moving off to a back room. He could hear the sound of drawers being pulled open and glass clinking together. She returned a few minutes later, setting the handful of sealed glass jars on the counter. "How much do I owe you?"
"I have plenty of these herbs, though the ink is a bit expensive. I'll charge you fifty copper tabs."
"Done, but all I have are silver. Keep the change. I may be back for more." He shrugged the pack off his shoulders, wincing as it scraped the gouge in his shoulder. He could have bought a healing potion or some more herbs, but he had to make his money last. Pawing through the pack until he found his coin purse, he rooted out a silver tab and set it on the counter before packing in the glass jars. "Thank you, I appreciate the help."
"No problem…" She seemed a bit stunned at his overpayment. He slung the pack, ignoring the protest from his shoulder, and headed out the door. Beth waited patiently for him, and he gave the underside of her chin a good scratch before hauling himself up and onto her back.
As Avdren neared the spot in the road where he remembered the turn-off being, among the trees, he barely caught sight of a flickering light through the branches. He slowed Beth to a halt, peering through the leaves toward the collapsed house. The light appeared again as he watched. A torch, or lantern, carried by someone. He slid off Beth and led her into the brush a short way, tying her to a bush where she could graze out of sight. He gently laid his pack on the dirt before attempting to get closer to the torch bearer. The man was dressed in dirty piecemeal leather armor, and looked to Avdren like someone who very well might be a bandit or looter. "Shit." He unsheathed the knife, holding it close. Anger was rising in him, he couldn't let some random thugs get in the way when he was this close. The man was standing still, watching the brush, and Avdren seized the chance. He charged out of the bushes with a cry of anger, startling the man. In three long strides, Avdren closed the distance and stabbed out with the knife. The thick leather stopped the blade, but the force carried both of them to the dirt. Avdren pulled the knife out and grabbed it with both hands, stabbing down over and over wherever the armor wasn't covering. Blood sprayed as the leather-clad man screamed and spluttered. He tried to push his assailant away, but Avdren simply slashed at his arms until they no longer moved. The man had gone limp. Gore coated the blade, and the young wizard spat blood from his mouth. He looked up from his victim to see another man come sprinting out from around the back of the house. "Eli, what the hell is-" The words cut off as the man froze in horror, seeing the blood-soaked figure kneeling on top of his now deceased friend. Avdren rose, fury in his eyes, and rushed the man before he could react. He only had his sword half out of the scabbard when Avdren crashed into him, burying the knife just above his collarbone in a spray of blood. The man gasped and choked, his fingers digging into Avdren's shoulder, managing to find the gash and digging into it. Avdren snarled with fury and slammed his forehead into the man's face, before pulling out the heavy knife and stabbing the blade down into an eye.
"Gods' dammed thieves. Don't go digging into other people's things." Avdren spat on the corpse and stood, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand and wincing at the fresh pain in his shoulder. He could feel the emotions returning, he hadn't even tried to talk to them. What if they were innocent, or thought the place was still abandoned? Various thoughts ran through his mind, but the truth was clear. He had murdered people in cold blood. It wasn't self-defense. Avdren leaned down, wiping the knife off on the man's tunic before sheathing it. He shoved the emotions down with effort, mentally locking the thoughts away. It didn't matter now, he was simply trying to survive. He went back to Beth, who was surprisingly calm for all the ruckus that had just happened. She shied away a bit at the sight and smell of him covered in blood, but he coaxed her over and gave her a scratch. "I may have to sell you, girl. I can't keep dragging you around like this, and you deserve to be properly taken care of." He collected his pack and untied the lead from the bush before leading her back to the house. Ignoring the bodies, Avdren headed back downstairs. Some of the books were strewn around, and one of the tables was overturned. "So, they were looting. Maybe one of them saw me come here earlier?" He righted the table and set his pack on it before pulling out the glass jars and unsealing them. He found the book he needed, along with the alchemy supplies. He read the book carefully, mixing the ingredients with a mortar and pestle before pouring in the ink. Once it was thoroughly mixed, he took a waterskin out and washed off his hands and the knife of any remaining blood. He had to be sure the blood he used was his own. With a grimace, he sliced open the inside of his palm and squeezed his fist over the bowl. As the blood mixed with the special ink, a soft blue glow emanated from the mixture. He slowly reached down and gingerly touched a finger to the mixture, ignoring the stinging pain in his hand. The ink was warm and tingled a bit as he dipped his finger in it. Looking at the book again, he searched through the pages until he found the section describing the first mark the wizards would make. It was placed on the forehead, and according to the book, it would allow the one painted to see written language differently. "That's why some of those markings looked familiar..." He mused, studying the painting of the first marking. Once he was confident he had it, Avdren dipped his finger back into the ink and slowly, carefully, drew the sigil onto his face. When finished, he let the excess ink drop back into the bowl from his fingertip and waited for the marking to dry a bit. The next step was to arrange a binding circle on the ground, in chalk or charcoal, just like binding to a spell book.
He found charcoal in the supplies and cleared out the scattered books from the floor in a large circle. He needed no practice for this, he had done it several times. Avdren took his time with it, and within a few minutes, the circle was complete. He stepped into it, careful not to smudge the markings. According to The Inked Wizards, no words or phrases were needed for this. The markings were old magic, just like the binding circle, and as long as you focused on your need, the two spells would work together. Crossing his legs, Avdren sat down and pushed down his excitement, trying to even his breathing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the painted mark, begging something to happen. At first, nothing did, much like when he had attempted to bind to Mildred's spell book. He tried to grasp the thread of connection, but it kept slipping away. In frustration, he focused on the thread, trying harder to force the connection to happen. Then, as he reached for it one last time, something inside his mind resonated with the thread of magic. He felt it pull towards him and wrap around his outstretched hand. Avdren's eyes snapped open, and a tear of joy trickled down his cheek. He scrambled over to the pack and dug out the spell book. When he opened it, the words seemed to float before his eyes, swirling into new shapes and symbols, in a language he didn't know but also somehow understood. He barked a laugh in excitement, flipping through the book until he found what he wanted. The sigil danced before his eyes, and he set the book on the ground. He snatched the bowl of ink from the table and dipped his finger in again. Slowly, gingerly, he began to draw the mark onto his other palm, following the lines that he saw from the spell book. When he finished, he inspected the mark, allowing it to dry, before making a silent prayer. He focused on the painted sigil, calling to it with his new connection. In his palm, a small ball of fire roared to life.