Chapter 48 — The Dead Road

Chapter 48: Chapter 48 — The Dead Road

Chapter 48 — The Dead Road

Far away in Alvion, Edwin was also packing for a door he had not yet found.

His secondhand storage pouch rested beside the travel bag. Edwin had bought it after becoming a First Circle Mage, using part of his new faculty wages, and the repaired leather held about as much as a large chest. He packed his measuring tools, spare ink, chalk, reagents and copied records inside it. Food, tents and water still went on the pack animals; the pouch could not hold living creatures, and its space was far too small for an entire expedition anyway.

His mother removed half the books from his travel bag.

"I need those."

"You need dry socks."

"The books contain road references."

"Your copies contain road references. The books contain weight."

She replaced them with folded paper, a blanket and a small packet of medicine, and Edwin’s sister added two hard sweets without asking.

Captain Taron’s company waited outside the western gate: Taron, two Black Iron fighters, three ordinary veterans and Nessa. Two pack animals carried food, rope and camping equipment. No wagon could follow the dead road.

Master Vey arrived before they departed. Edwin had told him he intended to verify an abandoned provincial route, but had not mentioned the book spirit or the possibility of an intact tower.

Vey examined the mercenaries, then Edwin’s boots.

"Those will blister."

"They’re my best pair."

"That does not make them suitable."

Vey handed him a small jar of salve.

Edwin accepted it. "You’re not going to tell me this is foolish?"

"Would you remain if I did?"

"I would still leave."

"Then I will tell you something useful. Old Mage sites rarely kill people because the builders hated visitors. They kill people because damaged systems continue doing half of what they were made to do."

Edwin thought of the damaged book whispering incomplete words. "I understand."

"No. You heard me. Understanding comes when you turn around despite wanting the answer."

His mother embraced him at the gate. His sister demanded a stone from the ruin, then changed her request to any unusual stone after their mother objected.

The company departed under a pale morning sky, following the maintained road for the first day. Farms spread beyond Alvion’s walls, broken by orchards and low villages, and though Edwin knew the region from maps, walking it showed him how much the maps had left out: drainage ditches, boundary shrines, muddy shortcuts and hills reduced to neat ink marks.

Nessa set the pace. Taron placed one Black Iron fighter at the front and the other behind Edwin, an arrangement that made clear who they expected trouble to follow.

At the first campsite, Edwin attempted to help raise the shelter and tied the wrong knot. One veteran silently redid it, and Edwin gathered firewood instead.

Taron inspected the camp before allowing a fire. The company chose ground with one side protected by a low stone wall and a clear view of the road, and Nessa brushed away their tracks near the stream, following the same habits on a quiet road that she would have followed in dangerous country.

Edwin ate hard bread beside the veterans. Their conversation concerned boots, weather and an employer who once carried perfume but forgot spare socks, and nobody asked about magic until Edwin used a breath of wind to strengthen the fire.

"Can you throw a man with that?" one veteran asked.

"Not reliably."

"Can your wind spell stop an arrow?"

"No. It might disturb a weak shot, but I would not trust it with my life."

The man nodded, apparently satisfied to know what Edwin could not do.

Taron assigned Edwin no watch. Edwin objected that he had hired escorts, not servants.

"You hired people who know what sounds matter at night," Taron said. "Sleep. If we need magic, someone will wake you."

Edwin lay down feeling less useful than he ever had inside the academy; Taron’s people had noticed every danger before he did. The damaged book remained wrapped inside an oilskin case, giving no sign of awareness, and Edwin did not speak to it where the mercenaries could hear.

On the second afternoon, the maintained road turned south-west. Nessa stopped beside a weathered stone bridge. Grass covered the ground beyond it, and a shallow river flowed beneath arches repaired in three different kinds of masonry.

"The dead road should begin somewhere across there," Edwin said.

Nessa studied the overgrown bank. "Roads don’t die. People stop clearing them."

She crossed first. Edwin followed, feeling the book grow faintly warm against his back.

The dead road survived beneath the grass.

Nessa found its edge with a narrow iron probe. Flat stones lay below two feet of soil and tangled roots, and once she knew the direction, the raised ground became easier to follow.

"No wagon," she said.

Captain Taron faced Edwin. "You heard her."

"I did."

They led the pack animals single file. The road crossed neglected fields, entered woodland and vanished wherever tree roots had lifted the old stones. Edwin checked his copied measurements at every bend; the numbers had seemed precise inside the library, but outside, a fallen tree could erase an hour.

By noon, they reached a flooded channel. The old bridge was gone, and brown water moved between steep banks, deeper than it first appeared. Nessa walked upstream and found no crossing suitable for the animals.

One Black Iron fighter suggested felling a tree. Taron rejected it: the trunk might land poorly, and the noise would carry.

They used rope instead. Nessa swam the narrowest section with a line secured around her waist, the fighters stretched a heavier rope above the water, and the veterans ferried supplies across in oilskin bundles.

Edwin used wind to keep one bundle from striking the bank. The spell was simple; holding it while balancing on wet stone was not. His concentration broke, and the bundle dropped knee-deep into the channel.

A veteran hauled it out.

"Books?" the man asked.

"Old records and copied maps."

"That may be worse than carrying books," the veteran said.

The oilskin held. Crossing cost them nearly three hours, and one pack animal refused the rope entirely, needing to be led upstream to a shallower place. By the time they returned to the buried road, Edwin understood why the modern route ignored it.

They found the pillars near sunset.

Three stone columns lay beside a broad bend, broken into sections and covered with moss, though their bases remained upright. Faint carvings circled each one.

Edwin unwrapped the damaged book, and it warmed in his hands.

Home.

The voice was clearer than before. Edwin forgot the mercenaries were watching.

"What?" Taron asked.

"The damaged book reacted when I faced the northern road."

"Books do not react to roads."

"This one does. That’s why I hired you instead of travelling alone."

Edwin explained that the damaged volume contained a weak spirit tied to the site, though he did not claim to understand it.

Taron’s expression hardened. "You hired us to inspect ruins. You didn’t mention a spirit."

"It has never harmed anyone while I worked with it."

"Has it ever possessed enough power to try?" Taron asked.

Edwin could not answer.

Taron studied the pillars before ordering the company onward.

"The moment it controls you, we leave you," he said.

"I agree to that."

Nessa discovered a fourth foundation without a pillar. Between the four bases, the buried road split: one branch continuing west, the other turning north toward higher ground. The book warmed when Edwin faced north, but they camped beside the pillars rather than following it in failing light.

After dark, something moved beyond the fire. Nessa heard it first, raised two fingers, and conversation stopped. Taron’s fighters stood without drawing blades, while Edwin reached for Mana and tried not to shape it before he knew the target.

A pair of eyes reflected between the trees. The animal stepped closer: a lean grey cat as large as a hunting dog, with ridges of pale crystal along its shoulders. Edwin sensed a weak gathering of Mana around it.

"Magical beast," he whispered.

Nessa threw a piece of burning wood toward the trees. The cat retreated but did not flee, circling downwind, interested in their food. One Black Iron fighter released a little Knight pressure, and the animal flattened its ears and vanished into the brush.

No battle followed, but Taron ordered all food raised from the ground and added a second person to each watch.

The company found claw marks near the packs at dawn. Nothing was missing.

Taron set two watches. Edwin slept poorly, troubled by insects, roots beneath his blanket and the knowledge that the spirit had said home.

At dawn, they followed the northern branch. Signs of old construction appeared first: a drainage ditch lined with stone, then a retaining wall half swallowed by a hillside. The road climbed through trees before emerging onto a ridge.

The outer station stood there, resembling a small fort with one collapsed wall and a squat central building. Trees grew in its courtyard, and vines covered the gate.

Nessa raised one hand.

Fresh ash lay beneath an old fire ring outside the walls. Someone had camped there within the last month.

The company circled the station before entering, finding boot marks too damaged to count and the bones of two rabbits near the fire. No current trail led away.

"Shepherds?" Edwin asked.

"Without sheep?" Nessa replied.

"They may have been hunters."

"That’s possible."

Edwin examined the ash with Nessa. Rain had fallen three weeks earlier according to a farmer on the main road, and part of the ash lay above dried splash marks, making the fire newer than that. Whoever camped here could return.

Taron asked whether Edwin wanted to abandon the site.

"I want to continue."

"Then understand the choice. Ruins attract more than scholars."

They hid the pack animals inside the remains of the stable and established a signal with the veteran watching the road: one whistle meant visitors, two meant armed visitors, three meant the surface group was withdrawing. Edwin wrote the signals on his wrist, because pride was a poor substitute for memory.

Taron sent one veteran to watch the southern road, and the rest approached the ruined gate. The book spirit remained silent.

Inside, the courtyard contained a dry well, fallen roof tiles and a stone stable. A fox fled from one of the side rooms. The central building had a single door marked with the broken-circle classification from the missing catalogue.

Edwin’s excitement returned.

Taron blocked him with one arm.

"We establish the camp before opening that door."

"We still have daylight to inspect it."

"Which we use to make sure nobody follows us inside."

Edwin wanted to argue, but Master Vey’s voice returned to him: understanding came when he turned around despite wanting the answer. He helped establish camp instead.

Nessa inspected the well and found water too foul to drink. The veterans cleared one corner of the courtyard and checked every nearby room. One Black Iron fighter found a corroded blade beneath a cot and left it where it lay.

The central door remained closed.

Near evening, Edwin examined it from a distance. No keyhole broke its surface. A circular depression occupied the center, the same size as the seal printed inside the damaged book’s cover. He did not test it.

The next morning, Taron allowed the door opened after Edwin checked for Mana. The formation was almost empty, and pressing the book against the depression released a weak click.

The room beyond held a stair descending beneath the station. Air rose from below, cool and stale.

They left the pack animals with two veterans and entered with lamps, Taron leading, followed by a Black Iron fighter, Edwin, Nessa and the second fighter. The underground passage showed less damage than the station. Old lamps hung from the walls, though none worked. Dust covered the floor except where water had crossed it during past floods.

They found no bodies and no valuables. After two hundred paces, the passage ended at another door.

This one was intact. The provincial tower symbol filled its surface, lines extending from it into the walls like the roots of a tree. The damaged book trembled inside Edwin’s hands.

Return, the spirit whispered.

Edwin stepped closer, and light appeared beneath the symbol, weak and unsteady.

Taron caught his shoulder.

"We agreed to inspect the road and outer ruins," the captain said. "An active magical door is where the first contract ends."

Edwin studied the seal. Taron was right.

They returned to the surface to negotiate the second contract. Taron posted a guard over the underground entrance while they spoke; nobody would approach the active door alone, including Edwin. The captain also demanded that the surface camp remain ready to move; if the tower awakened something they could not fight, abandoned tents and cooking pots would not be worth stopping for.

Edwin accepted both conditions. Reaching the door had made him more impatient, not less vulnerable.

Before leaving the underground door, Edwin copied its symbol and measured its diameter. The book spirit repeated nothing; its earlier word had consumed whatever strength it gathered during the journey, and the silence made the intact door feel heavier. Edwin had reached the place he sought, yet still depended on coin, hired steel and a damaged intelligence that spoke one word at a time.

He could turn back with proof of the site.

Edwin looked back at the central door before following the others.

The answer waited below.