Need to catch-up? Here's the link to the full collection.
Chapter 2
Part 3
“So, which of the many things that you got me to grab are going to move this?” Ifan’s hands danced over the obelisk’s façade. Its cold black surface reminded him of a frozen river he and Mari used to play on as children during the Winter.
“Not sure. Pass me the rucksack.”
Ifan took the rucksack off and proffered it up to Mari, before returning to the obelisk. “It’s enchanting.” Staring at his reflection in the smooth exterior of the obelisk, he could see Mari turning the rucksack inside out. “Hey, careful with that! It’s one of the few things that has survived since we joined the guild.”
“Sorry.” Mari continued, slowing her unravelling of its contents but still drawing scowls from Ifan in the obelisk’s reflection.
“You’ll be paying for its replacement if you break it – seeing as though you can’t magic up a new one.”
“Shhh.”
Ifan chuckled as he walked around the obelisk. The sun had just gone behind some clouds as he stepped behind its form, its reflectiveness not dulled in the afternoon shade. “I wonder why those statues were protecting this. And why they weren’t mentioned in your research.”
“Hmm. No idea,” replied Mari half-heartedly.
“This is Sevari right?”
“Yeh, did I mention that?” Mari fiddled with one of the implements that Ifan had gathered for her, a shrinking balm from Ben Grufudd, Treffynnon’s resident alchemist.
“No, but I had the feeling – I’ve spoken with Holiwier about them before, on a pilgrimage I made to Vallenfall Well.”
“Forgot you’d met with him before. Was he interesting to chat to? Or as stuffy as the books I’ve read make him out to be?”
“He’s alright. Not particularly talkative; he likes his secrets.” Ifan lent against the obelisk and watched Mari organising her magical apparatus.
“Great-Uncle Iorwerth thought the same thing, or at least that’s what I gathered from his research notes.” Having lined up all of the different bits and bobs that Ifan had gathered for her, Mari stared at them with her hand stroking her chin.
“Good ol’ Iorwerth – you probably know him better than Mum or Dad did, and you never even met him.”
“He was a great scientist and archivist, we read through most of his works in university.” Kneeling down, Mari picked up her first test object; a plain looking pouch, full of what Ifan could only describe as the worst smelling powder he’d ever had the displeasure of inhaling.
“First up – dust of transmutation. 20 silver pieces and a 5-minute haggle with a less than happy dwarf.”
Ifan had been asked to procure the dust of transmutation and have the charm cast on the dust change the shape of the object to ‘something small’. Upon requesting this, the shopkeeper started a tirade about unspecific requests and how “non-magicians like yourself end up wasting so much of my time that I could open a second shop if your masters just came instead”. After heading to his storeroom, the dwarf returned with a pouch of dust that he described “would turn an elephant into a thimble”.
Mari sprinkled the dust over the obelisk, and Ifan moved to the islands edge, lifting his shirt to cover his nose. Mari gagged as some of the residue hit her nasal passage but powered through dispersing the dust evenly over the monolith’s body.
Two minutes passed.
The pair stared at the obelisk, as exactly nothing happened to it.
“A dud. On to the next one.” Ifan placed his sword down and took a seat in the soft, clover covered greenery along the edge of the island, watching Mari pace around the obelisk before returning to the set of magical implements.