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Familiarnapped: Part 2


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#1 Guest_Ophidia_*

Posted 05 February 2003 - 05:22 PM

An Enjoyable Partnership: Familiarnapped


Part Two

Edwin slowly hauled himself upright against the stone wall of the keep, gasping, unable to get enough air, but at the same time apparently unable to empty his lungs. Bright sparks traced idle patterns across his vision. Don’t pass out.

“Edwin?”

Edwin knew he had heard his name called, but he couldn’t recognise whose voice it was because of the rushy hissing in his ears. Don’t pass out. He closed his eyes and worked at steadying his breathing. Although his enchanted robes had taken the worst edge off the blow, it had really hurt.

He felt a damp cloth dab gently at his brow, and opened his eyes. His eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

“Lady Delcia?”

“Shush, dear, you’ve had a nasty knock.” Delcia knelt over him, bending as far as the stiff corsetry of her formal evening gown would allow.

“What exactly are you doing with that cloth?”

Delcia took the wad of cloth off his forehead and twisted it in her hands aimlessly. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do if someone is feeling faint?”

“Get that filthy rag off me, I am not feeling faint!” Edwin protested, forcing himself onto his wobbly feet in rebellion. His head pounded, and the sparks returned to his vision. Don’t pass out. His hands shook- due to shock. Of course it was shock.

“Are you sure? Those guards gave you an awful beating. I saw it all!” Delcia trembled with indignation. “That Isaea Roenall is most definitely not our type of person at all!”

“Really.”

“I saw the way you charged in to rescue my little Nalia! It was inspiring, the way you faced all those guards. You must love her so much, it’s so romantic!”

“Hmm.”

“What was that spell you cast, by the way? It looked jolly impressive.”

“That was no spell!” Edwin said in exasperation, rubbing his sore stomach. “That was a failed cast. I couldn’t cast even the simplest cantrip from my vast repertoire!”

“Why not?”

“Because…because…alright, I don’t know why! My magic has failed, failed utterly.” Edwin tried to ignore the empty despair at the thought of being unable to cast. “And I have no idea why it could have done so.”

“Well, you know what they say, dear, everything happens for a reason.”

“Yes, yes it does.” Edwin said thoughtfully, and then shook his head. “I think…I seem to remember something…I need to do some research. (And get my breath back.)”

***


A carriage bumped along the rough road from de’Arnise keep, into the dark night. Inside, Nalia sat in surly silence, arms crossed, opposite Isaea Roenall, who looked very smug and sure of himself. On either side of her sat an Amnian guard. The one to her left sported an impressive black eye and a broken nose, while the guard to her right had streaming eyes and difficulty breathing. A third guard, sitting next to Isaea, was clutching a slowly leaking stab wound in his side, and drinking a healing potion carefully, wincing with every jolt of the coach.

Nalia had not gone quietly.

“I hope you realise, darling Nalia, that I could charge you with resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law as well, now.” Isaea smirked.

“No you can’t!” Nalia spat. “You’ve arrested me because the balance of my mind is disturbed, you said. That means I’m not responsible for my own actions.”

Isaea raised his eyebrow. “Hmm, it seems you have learnt a lot from your wizard friend. I suppose he’s used that excuse any number of times.”

“Not…that I know of.”

Isaea suddenly leaned forwards and clasped Nalia’s hands in his own. She tried to pull away, but he held them, fast, and stared into her eyes. “Look, he won’t hurt you again. I promise it! It must have been awful for you.” He let her go, and looked down at his knees. “I won’t let him bother you, ever.”

“He wasn’t bothering me! I…liked having him around.”

Isaea shook his head sadly. “I’ve heard about poor, battered women defending their lovers like this. I never, ever thought I’d see you in such a state.”

“I’m not battered! He never touched me.”

“He didn’t?” Isaea looked up in sudden hope. “You mean he’s…”

No!” Nalia snapped angrily. “I just mean he wasn’t nasty to me in any way!”

“So you and he never…”

“Just drop it, Isaea!”

“Maybe you were lucky, Nalia, lucky I got you out before he turned nasty. You should be glad there are people who care for you like I do.”

Tral Hesrine zhal allaipo, il Quasitle nomari!” Nalia growled.

“What?”

“Um, never mind.” When did I learn Thayvian? She wondered. That’s a good insult, though.

She looked glumly out of the window, and wondered where Edwin was. What had happened in the Great Hall? Edwin had tried to cast a spell, and it had failed. Why had it failed? She hadn’t had a chance to even think about hitting the guards with any offensive casts, but she realised, thinking about it, that she couldn’t remember a single one of her memorized spells. Her mind seemed blank. The magic was simply gone, drained away.

The most frightening part was that, when Edwin had been punched in the stomach, she hadn’t felt a thing. She had got so used to their connection that it was almost like losing an arm. She had no idea where he was at this moment, or what condition he was in.

The familiar link between them was, it seemed, irredeemably broken.

***


Edwin turned over a page of the huge apothecary tome he was currently looking in. It was starting to get light again outside, but he had still not found an answer. He knew it had to be here in this library somewhere, he just knew it.

The words started to drift and go double in front of his eyes. Concentrate! There was no time for sleep. He had lost his powers. He could not afford to be without them, not for a second. Who knew when Feredain would reappear? The idea of facing her without any magic at his disposal made him go cold all over. To be defeated in a magical duel was bad enough, but to be so utterly humiliated? Horrible beyond belief.

Edwin pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. He had learnt his first spell, magic missile, when he’d been, oh, six. Possibly seven. Since then, he had always, always had spells at his command. Magic was a way of life. Magic was his life. Without it, he felt adrift, crippled. There was something else, too. He found himself remembering the well-known saying in Thay:

A wizard without his familiar is only half a wizard.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance. He was beholden to no one, nothing! And yet…Nalia was gone, as lost to him as if she were dead. He had got used to her presence, always there at the back of his mind.

The point was, Edwin had long ago given up hope of finding conversation with people entertaining in any way. The vapid twitterings of most people’s minds bored him beyond belief, their banal concerns were irritating and petty. He never bothered trying to be polite to such dullards, what was the point? Finding new ways to offend and insult people at least gave him some amusement.

Nalia, though, had been impossible to drive away. She seemed, at surface level, to be just as useless as the rest of humanity- naïve, concerned with irrelevancies, and irritating in several creative and original ways. Yet, she’d argue back, and she sniped at him when he annoyed her. Beneath that benevolent, innocent noble exterior, there was a sharp point of wit and inventive nastiness he had to admire. He sighed. He knew, he just knew, that he’d end up rescuing her.

First, though, he had to find out why his powers had gone.

“I’ve brought you a hot drink!” Edwin jumped, his quill pen clattering from his grasp. He turned around angrily.

“Do you have to keep disturbing me? Don’t you know how important it is for a highly powerful wizard to have solitude and quiet to work in?” What highly powerful wizard would that be? The one sitting here who has lost all of his ability, perchance?

“I’m sorry, Edwin dear, I thought you might just like a nice drink to keep you awake,” Lady Delcia came in, with a sleepy servant behind her carrying an elegant porcelain cup of coffee on a silver tray, “So I ordered a servant to make you one.”

Edwin rolled his eyes, and cursed Delcia’s inability to be offended or intimidated by any number of threats, insults or sarcastic sideswipes. He was of the correct class, as far as she was concerned, and therefore everything he did was charming. He found it exceedingly annoying.

“Very well, pass it over.” The servant brought the tray over to the table and carefully placed it next to the book Edwin was looking through. The movement of the tray in the air made the thin pages waft and turn over to a new place in the apothecary. Edwin was about to tiredly snap at the man, when his eye was drawn to a word, then an entire paragraph.

“Witchweed, Aspellis sylvestris (Macrothaumataceae), Found in damp woodlands, eastern Faerun, this plant is recognisable by its lanceolate leaves with black veining and deep blue asymmetric flowers. Although this plant has no known medicinal use, it is utlilised occasionally by inquisitors and other mage hunters for its deleterious affects upon wizards and witches. Upon ingestion of the plant, the mage loses all magical abilities for up to two tendays, affect varying according to dosage and individual build. There is also anecdotal evidence of occasional increases in perceptivity, although these have never been confirmed. The plant has no effect on non-magic users. No antidote or magical cure exists for witchweed poisoning.”

Edwin felt physically sick. This had to be the cause, had to be. He remembered, vaguely, Isaea Roenall fiddling with his sleeve and then reaching for the bottle of wine. He must have poisoned everyone on the high table, confident that it would only affect Nalia and himself. It had been a particularly fine dry Muscadet white from the vineyards north east of Athkatla, he remembered. He had drunk three full glasses.

Delcia peered over his shoulder, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “Oh, now that is just not fair play!” She exclaimed. “We can’t let those upstart Roenalls get away with this! What shall we do?”

“I know exactly what I need to do.” Edwin sighed tiredly. “Unfortunately.”




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