Experimental Magics: The Ruins of Gandarah, #2

Table of Contents

Experimental Magics (The Ruins of Gandarah, #1)

1- Demonic Prophecies

2- Three Invitations

3- The Last Card

5- Tea and Sympathy

Gandarah IV

6- The Dragon Box

7- Social graces

8- Pancakes

9- Dangerous Questions

10- The Book Man

Gandarah V

11- The Theft

12-The Ladies’ Palace

Gandarah VI

13-The Thief

14- A Walk in Town

15-The Wolf Pack

16-Double standards

Gandarah VII

17-A Walk in the Woods

18- In the Cellar

19- A Night at the Opera

20- Jarlan’s Gambit

Gandarah VIII

21- The Left Hand

22- A Night at the Museum

23- The Ring of Chaos

Gandarah IX

24- The Eagle’s Nest

25- The Transfer of Souls

26- The Wolf’s Maw

Epilogue

Thank You for Reading!

About the Author

Other books by Alex Evans

EXPERIMENTAL

MAGICS

By Alex Evans

Copyright © 2021 Alex Evans

Cover art by Illustrious Bookcovers

Table des matières

1- Demonic Prophecies

2- Three Invitations

3- The Last Card

5- Tea and Sympathy

Gandarah IV

6- The Dragon Box

7- Social graces

8- Pancakes

9- Dangerous Questions

10- The Book Man

Gandarah V

11- The Theft

12-The Ladies’ Palace

Gandarah VI

13-The Thief

14- A Walk in Town

15-The Wolf Pack

16-Double standards

Gandarah VII

17-A Walk in the Woods

18- In the Cellar

19- A Night at the Opera

20- Jarlan’s Gambit

Gandarah VIII

21- The Left Hand

22- A Night at the Museum

23- The Ring of Chaos

Gandarah IX

24- The Eagle’s Nest

25- The Transfer of Souls

26- The Wolf’s Maw

Epilogue

Thank You for Reading!

About the Author

Other books by Alex Evans

1- Demonic Prophecies

I am not entirely sure where this tale truly began. I believe it was when Albert left. Although he was not directly involved in the events, he remained inextricably linked to the whole affair in the labyrinthine corridors of my memory.

As often, I stayed late to work in my laboratory. It was a large, high-ceilinged room, lit during the day by two large windows whose panes were cracked. A chipped workbench bisected the space. Paint peeled from the walls, drafts snuck in through numerous gaps, and the equipment was outdated, but it was home to me far more than the furnished room I rented in a cramped boarding house.

The night air wafted in through the open windows, carrying with it the medley of scents and sounds that composed Riverbend's nocturnal symphony: the occasional rumble of an autotractor engine, the yowl of a tomcat, or the drunken shouts of a reveler. From their shelf, the moonflowers cast their etheral glow onto the floor. I was putting the final touches on my article, the caretaker's cat on my lap. Nothing revolutionary, but an interesting study nonetheless.

... and so, considering the main axis and the secondary angle, moonflowers have the ability to deflect a flow of Power by 90 to 105 degrees, with an average trispectral index of 305, confirming the existence of shamanic plants. Further experiments are warranted to learn more about this property.

I typed the last word of my conclusion and went through the long list of references I had added. As always, I stumbled on the twenty-third — the most relevant and, naturally, the most problematic. The author, Nicephorus Vatel, had a notorious reputation and had recently... disappeared.

We were good friends since our student days, bonded by our shared status as outsiders in the rarefied air of academia. Even though we were very different in temperament, this drew us together. However, we both paid the price for our circumstances. While I had maintained a long, and discreet affair with brandy, Nick had become entangled in wild and tumultuous relationships with all the intoxicating substances one could find in Deshwan. As any magic researcher will tell you, conducting an experiment under the influence of a drug is a dangerous business.

He had not return from his leave, a month before, vanishing without a trace. Nor the police, nor his neigbors had a clue. Romantic souls spoke of accidental spirit summoning, while the more cynical suggested a hasty retreat from creditors. The pessimists, including myself, assumed he had finally succumbed to one of his chemical dalliances.

I stared at the reference, caught in an academic quandary. Could I cite the only study whose validity was unquestionable but whose author had a somewhat edgy reputation? Were not my own results already controversial enough?

With a sigh, I decided to postpone submitting my article to the International Journal of Experimental Thaumaturgy. A few more days of contemplation could not hurt.

I leaned back in my chair, took off my glasses, and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Everything was peaceful. The background hum of Power emanating from various talismans in the faculty purred at the edge of my consciousness. It was beautiful, maddening, and utterly addictive.

Since Simon Dowell's death, I had been the only one working so late. But I had the sacred fire. Science. For it, I was willing to give up... What, exactly? I had neither family nor friends, nor any guilty pleasures. And my field of study was not chemistry, physics, or astronomy. It was Power... magic. The science of the improbable and the art of the uncertain.

With a mental nudge, I lifted the newspaper from the shelf behind me and made it float over to my desk, then waited for the slight aftereffect to pass. Spells drained your life force, but this one required very little and left me with more than enough energy to return home and recharge. I trained like this regularly, in the utmost secrecy.

The tomcat slid off my lap, leaving its fur on my lab coat. It leapt onto the windowsill and dropped outside. The door creaked loudly against the floor. I jumped, but it was only Albert, with a large suitcase in hand.

Had I been a witch of old, I might have told you he was my household incubus. But incubi, like cats, do not really let themselves be tamed. He had once explained to me that he was a naturalist among his kind and that his current research involved observing humans in their natural habitat. So, I never quite knew which of us had tamed the other.

Well done, Adrienne. You are improving day by day! You no longer even need to look directly at the object you are manipulating.

Thanks... I yawned so widely I nearly dislocated my jaw. It was time to head home.

His chiseled features lit up with a slightly embarrassed smile, which was unlike him. I came to say goodbye. I am going to take a few days off in my world. I had planned to do it at the end of the month, but I just realized that a syzygy is starting tomorrow, and that will make my trip much more complicated.

I looked up. A syzygy? What is it?

It’s the moment when certain elements align... Stars, planets, worlds, rifts... Some magics become very unstable. This syzygy will only affect about ten worlds, but they’re all connected to this one or mine.

How come I have never heard of it?

Even four centuries ago, few sorcerers among your kind studied this phenomenon. The mages of Gandarah knew about it naturally, but only Morgana of Rul paid it any real attention.

I tried to imagine the implications. If universes were aligning with ours, would magical creatures, each more ferocious than the last, invade us?

Is there an increased risk of, uh... beings of all sorts showing up unexpectedly?

He gave me an ironic smile. "I am grateful you have not used the word ‘demon’! In fact, there will be a little less Power during this period, and species that heavily rely on it will be much less comfortable here. Even more reason for me to get away."

I suppose it is still out of the question to show me where your portal is?

He shook his head, still smiling. I am sorry, but as I have told you before: if my superiors find out I showed it to a human... Anyway, you would not survive five minutes in my world, Adrienne. Very little oxygen, gases toxic to any mammal, high gravity...

I get it! I suppose by the time of your return, I will be a little old lady hunched over a cane?

Ah, no, that will be after my vacation. This time, I think you will just have a mate and maybe a little one... If you can escape the troubles piling up around you.

I did not like the sound of that. Albert had centuries of experience with humans. If he was predicting trouble, I could believe it without hesitation. And there was no shortage of possible causes. But after years of effort, I had managed to secure a quiet, if unconventional, life and I had no desire to lose it. Besides, deep down, I felt a small pang in my heart. I had grown attached to Albert.

I replied evenly. As for the mate, that seems excessively optimistic. The little one could only be an unfortunate accident. Be sure to send me a postcard from your vacation spot. I am sure the sulpurus pits are lovely this time of the year.

He gave an annoyed sigh, then his face brightened. By the way, in your human legends, demons sometimes give oracles or predictions, don’t they?

That’s right.

Well, I am going to give you one. Or rather, a recommendation.

Oh? I said, half perplexed, half amused. Like, ‘don’t eat lizard meat or never refuse a woman anything on New Year’s Day’?

He nodded vigorously. Something like that. Mine is simple: do not refuse any invitation tomorrow. Even if it seems uncomfortable or incongruous.

What kind of invitation?

You know demons are mysterious and never explain anything fully.

This time, a clear alarm sounded in the back of my mind.

Why do I feel like you are warning me about a mountain of trouble?

He took on that mocking expression that annoyed me so much. Come on, Adrienne, nothing you can’t handle. Don’t you always say that scientific reasoning has an answer for everything?

Fine, fine, I’ll carefully consider any invitation, summons, order, offer to attend a charity ball, a bridge game, or even a promotional sale that might come my way tomorrow. Even one from a door-to-door salesman.

Excellent. See you soon, Adrienne.

Uh... See you in a while.

Unexpectedly, he placed his hand on my shoulder. I jumped at the unusual contact and felt my eyes sting. Even though the young man staring at me had the true form of a gelatinous octopus, he was my only real friend, with Roxane, now Nick had... vanished. I had gotten used to his annoying chatter and cynical remarks about human nature. I was going to miss him.

Don’t be afraid, he said softly.

I sniffed loudly. What was happening to me? It had been years since I had cried over anything. In fact, since my father’s death.

I am not afraid... I am just sad. But as you said, I am just a lab rat whose strange behavior you are observing...

He leaned down and gazed into my eyes. When he did that, I could catch a glimpse of what he truly was: a creature centuries old and completely alien to our world.

"You are a human with both brains and heart. You also have knowledge, and you have chosen to engage with Power. Like all humans... of this kind, you are destined to live multiple lives. You are changing... being reborn. Birth is never easy. No baby is happy to leave its mother’s womb. Everything will be fine, Adrienne. You will see, you’ll be so busy that you won’t even have time to think about me."

He kissed my forehead and left, closing the door behind him with a creak. I remained motionless, staring into space for long minutes, while silent tears rolled down my cheeks.

Eventually, I got up, turned off the lights, and returned to my boarding house, brooding over our conversation. Albert usually refused to discuss magic with me. Once, he had jokingly told me that any information given to humans could cause trouble later. So, his explanation about the syzygies was highly unusual. I needed to learn more about them: when did they occur? How long did they last? Were they cyclical, like Power? Were they characterized by a specific wave pattern? Were there different types? Which worlds aligned? What had happened during previous syzygies?

I immediately began formulating experimental plans. Power extended in the three dimensions of space and a fourth one unique to itself, which, according to the boldest theories, was transversal to the universes it crossed. Some had even speculated that it stretched across time, but that was difficult for the human mind to conceive. My field of research was the study of variations in this mystical energy and their correlation with different phenomena: spells, talismans, rifts, magical creatures. What about syzygies? Albert had provided me with an excellent research subject. My head filled with ideas and questions.

I did not fall asleep until the end of the night.

2- Three Invitations

I thought I had found an explanation to Albert sybilline advice while opening my mail as I came early to the lab. Among the various newspapers and prospectuses, there was a large envelope studded with the colorful stamps of the free city of Barramar. At first, I thought it was for Hamilcar Dian, my guest researcher. But no. It was addressed to me: Professor Adrienne Imlay, University of Sciences, Laboratory of Fundamental Magics, Street of the Seven Virtues 5, Riverbend in Deshwan.

Inside was written in vernacular:

Dear Professor Imlay,

Your studies on Power’s temporal variations have caught our interest. You are invited to present them at the 7th International Congress of Experimental Magics. Your one-hour talk is scheduled for the 21st of the Seashell Great Moon at 2 p.m.

The most prestigious congress of our burgeoning magic community! It only took place every four years. And the 21st of the Seashell Moon... I converted to the Calendar of the Way... was just the day after the elections and a month away! It was short notice. One of their speakers must have withdrawn. But it was the first time my research had attracted their attention. I would not miss such an opportunity. I would have to work extra hard to get ready, but I would gain notoriety and maybe even sponsorships after that. Of course, my ideas were considered too bold by many of my colleagues. They would certainly try to ridicule me, but I had a great deal of practice with criticism, denigration, and questioning of all kinds. I had spent most of my life justifying my very existence.

Full of enthusiasm, I set about planning the next few weeks. I was already engaged in a new series of delicate experiments with moonflowers. For this I had to obtain an ounce of black lotus juice, a very rare substance, imported with great difficulty and great cost from Yartegia. It would lose its supernatural properties after a month. I could not put off these manipulations. Now, I also had to prepare my presentation for the congress—in vernacular, a language I could read, but hardly speak. It all meant working late at night and through the Martyrs’ feast days. I might even have to forfeit my visits to my friend Roxane. I had not a minute to loose.

Once inside my lab, I switched on the tea infusor and began to calibrate the instruments.  The creaking of the door and a loud achoo announced the arrival of Hamilcar Dian, who was in the grip of one of those sneezing fits he had been having lately.  Spring in Riverbend did not work for him. For already a week, he was having a terrible case of hay fever.

Despite this minor inconvenience, my guest researcher had adjusted well. He had even started to dress with a certain sophistication. I had to admit that the suit he was wearing that day, in subtle shades of brown and green, highlighted his slender shape. That morning, excitement seemed to crop under his usual composure.

Good morning, Professor Imlay. What a beautiful day, isn't it?

Good morning, Doctor Dian. Indeed. Especially now I have learned I am invited to the International Congress of Experimental Magics

His leonine face lit up in a smile as wide as the Riversea, revealing a gap between his front teeth. This is splendid! I was about to tell you: my old mentor, Professor Gassama, will not be able to attend this year. With the Straits War, the trip is not safe. So, she asked me to make her presentation for her. Maybe we could travel to Barramar together?

At that point, the realization of what I was about to do hit me hard. Barramar lay over two thousand miles south of Riverbend. Between them spread the Plain, a vast stretch of wastelands, roamed by small bands of outlaws, terrible winds and not much else. Reaching Barramar involved getting through or around this unwelcoming place. In addition, the city had quite a reputation: a place of trafficking, vices, and fantasies, populated, according to the newspapers, by thugs and crooks ready to prey on unsuspecting travelers.

My euphoria vanished. A wave of panic rose in my throat, and I almost decided to decline the invitation. Since I had settled in Riverbend, I had never left the city. The only exception had been a conference in neighboring Dagher, which was already a whole enterprise. Since that country refused entry to unaccompanied women, I had to use the services of one of those paid companions whom you hired by the hour, the week, or the month. She had cost me a fortune and had not stopped complaining about any sight that had come our way. Even the color of the steamcabs—a very ugly green, I admit—had deeply traumatized her.

I hated traveling. My childhood journey from Gandarah was more than enough.

Meanwhile, Hamilcar went to start the tea infuser, continuing to talk about the congress. The cartaker’s tomcat slipped in and rubbed against my legs until I picked it up. It started purring like an engine.

I composed myself and recalled Albert’s advice. The letter had probably arrived last night, and he must have seen it in the caretaker's booth. So, I was going to be rational. This invitation was excellent for my career. I would be speaking in front of an audience of experts who did not have the foolish prejudices of the Deshwans. There would be opportunities for networking. Collaboration. Patronage. The Gods, if they existed, knew I needed some!

Anyway, I had never gotten anything in life without sweating blood or fighting tooth and nail. This time would not be any different. So, I declared firmly. I haven’t looked into how I’ll get there yet. I admit Iam not used to traveling.

Hamilcar sat down besides the infuser on a chair too low for his large frame. Let’s see... there is the airship which makes the trip in two days, but is very expensive. I don’t know if your university would be willing to pay... There is the Dragon Express which takes a week, but it is almost as expensive. Besides, it has been attacked so often by bandits that it takes about fifty Red Unicorns on board as guards. Then, there is the steamer which travels down the Dhor-Hondo in about ten days... Finally, there is the train to Drisla then a second to Ghofah, afterwards, you must cross the Long Lake by boat and take a third train, which stops at all the coastal towns. That’s the route I have taken, but with the connections, it would take at least three weeks...

I let out a deep sigh. I had less than a month and an urgent experiment to finish before leaving.

Fine, We will go ask the Dean this afternoon.

Hamilcar looked at me thoughtfully with his dark gaze. Something is bothering you, Professor?

Nothing. I just do not like traveling.

I assure you, nowadays it is quite tolerable. There will be plenty to see along the way no matter which route we take.

I gave him a tight smile. It will certainly be very interesting. I just need to get used to the idea.

Of course! This congress is quite promising. I have heard rumors of several major discoveries to be presented.

The infuser chimed and I busied myself pouring two mugs of tea. What will be the topic of your talk, Doctor Dian?

His eyes lit up.

First, Professor Gassama has reconstituted a few Triskelian spells from fragments of an old grimoire. Some words were missing from the original formula, and she had to find out what they were.

Really? What were those spells for?

He opened his mouth to respond, but then hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He glanced around the room, before leaning in close.

Perhaps it is best if we discuss the details... later, he said, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by an air of caution. There are some aspects of this research that have not yet been patented.

I nodded, understanding all too well. Of course, Dr Dian. We can revisit this topic at the congress.

An awkward silence fell between us. I sat down to sip my tea, while checking the previous day’s measurements. Hamilcar ostensibly plunged into the contemplation of his drink.

I had the feeling, he was burning to tell me something. I wondered with dread if he was about to blackmail me. After I left the hospital where he brought me after my unpleasantness with Leander, I told him that Philidor Magnus had invited me to check some notes from Simon Dowell, but that I remembered nothing after crossing the threshold of his laboratory.

Unfortunately, my Meralese colleague was far from stupid, and I kept worrying about what he might have deduced from my misadventures. Suddenly, I had a strong craving for a glass of brandy, a regrettable habit I thought I had kicked.

As the silence grew as thick as a treatise on Triskelian alchemy, Hamilcar put down his mug, nearly spilling it, By the way, Professor, didn't you mention you liked opera?

I pushed my glasses back up, nonplussed. Yes.

"It just so happens that... Hmm... that I have two tickets to the premiere of The Scorpion’s Kiss in this new avant-garde production in three days... Would you be my guest?"

My first reaction was to decline. I had not been to the theatre for years due to lack of time. In addition, it involved proper attire with a corset, and I did not have the slightest desire to put one on. However, I was very fond of opera in my youth, and The Scorpion’s Kiss had made a strong impression on me back then. Hamilcar was staring at me like a dog waiting for a stick to fetch.

This is how I heard myself answering, With pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door. Ferdal, Rupert, and Isidore came in, smelling of tobacco and cheap cologne. Ferdal, our technician, was slender and bald with sparse whiskers. In spite of his humble station, he was usually delving into serious topics. On the contrary, Rupert, my assistant, was squat and chubby with a thick black walrus moustache, and dark laughing eyes. He had the reputation of being the laziest researcher in the whole University. Isidore, our intern, was thin, sickly looking, and as quiet as a mouse. I suspected he did not have enough to eat and always made sure there were plenty of biscuits in our tin box.

...It was as big as a coach! said Rupert.

Ferdal displayed a polite grin. Really? How did he manage to stay so close without getting gobbled up?

He wasn’t that close. In fact, he was coming home from the tavern when he saw a giant shape on the top of Blue Hill—

You mean, he was a bit drunk?

No! He is as sober as a camel. Never more than a pint of beer on weeknights... Hello, Professor Imlay.

I turned to the door. Hello, gentlemen. What is the big news this time?

There were sightings of that jarlan which ran away from the zoo.

I am sure it is a hoax. A ten-foot-high feline in a big city. It has been over a month since its escape. It should have been captured by now!

Ferdal poured himself a mug of tea. I bet it’s a zombie made from a stuffed animal.

I sighed. You are reading too many dime novels. Anyway, if such a spell was rediscovered, it would be prohibited by the Quorum.

Maybe it was imported illegally from the South Continent? They say they have all sorts of magic stuff there."

I don’t see the point. Has it devoured anyone? A dog, maybe?

There is no mention of it...

Hamilcar shook his head: These creatures have a reputation for being terribly smart. It should have been hiding in the forest and occasionally stealing a sheep for food. It would not be walking right in the city center.

The park is large and full of nooks and crannies ...

I held up my hand to cut the discussion short. Wewill see. Close to the elections, it will be crowded with various political rallies. A jarlan would certainly add some excitement!

Rupert turned to Ferdal. By the way, have you finally decided who you are going to vote for?

The latter generously sweetened his drink. Not yet. Not for Bann, that’s for sure!

Dagontar looks good, chirped Isidore timidly.

Dashing, martial... Obviously, he appeals to the young.

Hmilcar took a sip of his tea. How many contenders do you have?

Four, muttered Ferdal. Not that you can make a big difference between them.

It is quite simple, said Rupert in a professorial tone. There are the old parties and the new ones. The oldest are the Progressives, who have ruled for thirty years.

But they are out of breath and out of ideas, Isidore added, his mouth full of biscuit. They always offer the same solutions, regardless of the problem—

Proven techniques are not a bad thing, young man, Rupert cut in. So, since the stock market crash and the crisis, we have two new parties.

Who are proposing to go back to the good old days before the Progressives, I could not help but grumble.

That’s what I was saying about proven techniques. said Rupert. The question is, what ‘before’? For the Heritage Party of Josephin Bann, it was the time before the Revolution, when everyone was in their place and the Interpreters dictated what was good and what was not. Suffice to say that with him, we ,wizards will be roasted in public on an open fire!

Ferdal and Isidore nodded vigorously over their cups. The latter was already chewing his third biscuit. I finished my tea and proceeded to remove the oscillator from its compartment under the bench.

He is popular, though. He could win... I said, absentmindedly.

No! The Deshwans are not yet so stupid!

I was not going to bet on the intelligence of Deshwans.

Hamilcar nodded. And the other one, uh... Dagontar?

Ah, he wants to go back to the times before the Way!

He claims older roots?

Yes, much older! Those of the founders of the country: the Darial nomads and the Twelve Realms... When this country extended up to the Ice Walls, the Dagheran feared us, and honor and love of his motherland were the greatest values in the heart of a man, said Ferdal in a dreamy voice.

I would have been curious to know what a genuine Darial nomad would have thought of all this, I muttered.

Just resuscitate one, then! laughed Rupert.

Unfortunately, I have no talent for necromancy.

There is also the People’s Party, our student said hesitantly.

Rupert shook his head as he grabbed another biscuit.

Ah, yes, the revolutionaries! The Deshwans are not ready for that, my friend. To vote for such a thing, you must be starving, and our fellow citizens still have a little spare fat. Maybe for the next election.

At least they are not at all interested in us, I added soothingly.

And you, Professor, have you chosen, if it is not intrusive? asked Hamilcar.

I shrugged. Women do not vote here, Doctor Dian. Anyway, by election time, I will be in Barramar... hopefully.

Barramar?

My assistant stared at me wide-eyed, not bothering to hide his astonishment. It was always nice to see one's merits appreciated at their true value.

I did not have the chance to make a witty comment about it, because at that moment, an impatient wave of Power swept through the room. If it had been a sound, it would have had the commanding and plaintive tones of a cat demanding its food. The moonflowers were calling for their morning watering. Since I had begun studying them, I had discovered that they were perfectly capable of communicating through the Power when they felt the need. A fascinating line of research, but one I could not pursue without revealing my gift.

I was heading toward their pot when the door creaked open, revealing Miss Jandreth, the Dean’s secretary, carefully holding a wooden box.

Good morning, Miss Jandreth.

Good morning, Professor, she said in a metallic tone. Professor Uriel would like you to personally estimate the focal point of this mystic lens.

All I needed was extra work.

My colleagues approached, full of curiosity. She handed me the box. I carefully put it on the bench and opened it. At the bottom was a bluish crystal the size of my palm. I grabbed a rag and took it. Among its dozen facets, not two were alike. I held