“Just like the elf said.” Damien cocked his head as he read over the translation he’d been taking down. “This isn’t necromancy though. This is supposedly true resurrection without degradation of the body, or enthrallment, or loss of the soul. It just returns the spirit and completely heals the vessel. Theoretically.”
Xander made a thoughtful noise, the first true one that day. “Do you think…do you think you could substitute noxscura in that spell for the luxerna?”
“Noxscura?” Amma sat up. She was almost certain she’d heard Damien use that word before, but she knew neither of the ingredients the two spoke of.
Damien only shook his head. “You can figure that out on your own time.”
Xander clicked his tongue. “Fine, that’s not what I wanted the book for anyway. Maybe you two can skip ahead to the good parts? This is already taking forever.”
“How can I skip ahead if I don’t know where the good parts are?” Amma flipped a page to see more dizzying Ouranic filling up the parchment.
“Indeed,” said Damien dryly. “You can’t have expected this to go quickly, though it would go a fair bit quicker if we had additional help.”
“Oh, fine,” Xander huffed, falling into his own chair in a heap and pulling fresh sheets of parchment from the stack. “We need to translate all of this to Chthonic anyway. I’ll start in on that.”
“Oh, no.” Damien cut through the air with his hand. “I’ve seen your Chthonic, it’s abysmal.”
“Of course it’s Abyssal,” Xander snapped. “That’s where it comes from.”
“Abysmal,” Damien stressed. “Terrible, illegible, bad. I’ll do the translations, and you take a turn at dictation.”
The three of them worked into the evening, shadow imps bringing them a meal that they picked at while they dove deeper into the Lux Codex, discovering healing spells and blessings, the translation and anagram solutions coming easier to Amma as she went.
When she read over a specific song in the old, Ouranic book, she began laughing, and the two blood mages urged her to tell them what was so funny. Amma had to admit that she and Laurel had made up their own words to that particular song about a farmer who had too much interest in his herd of goats. That had actually made both men laugh, and whether it was at the idea of a prayer song about goat-fucking or if it were directly at her embarrassment at having to sing a few lines, she didn’t really care, she was just glad to ease the room’s tension a bit.
The storm had mostly cleared itself out when night fell, Xander announced he had reached his limit taking direction from Amma and told Damien it was time for the two of them to go elsewhere in the tower for some friendly sparring.
“No.” Damien stood, gathering up the parchment he’d written Chthonic translations on.
“Come on, it’ll be fun! Just like when we were kids.”
Damien glared at him, violet eyes boring a hole into his head. “Of course you think that used to be fun.” He rolled up the parchment and pointed at Xander with the scroll. “And I’m not stupid enough to spar with you in your lair, surrounded by your minions.”
“I’ll play fair.”
“That would be a first.” He turned and headed for the door, gesturing for Amma to follow.
She gave Xander a quick, apologetic look, but the blood mage scowled back at her. So much for any camaraderie she might have thought they’d fostered. Hugging the Lux Codex to her chest, she followed Damien, back up the stairs and to their shared parlor, leaving Xander behind to pout, alone.
“He wants to speak with you,” said Amma when they were behind closed doors, “and he doesn’t want me around for it.”
“No, he wants to see how many times he can stab me before the wounds stop healing.” Damien stretched arms above his head and yawned. “At least that was his idea of fun when he was about seven years old.”
She watched him stretch, eyes lingering on the sliver of stomach he unwittingly revealed with his pants slung so low on his hips. It was nice to see him out of armor, and even nicer when he was relaxed. “He can’t do that,” she said quickly, snapping herself out of the stare. “He still needs information from you.”
Damien hesitated. “Maybe.” It was true, of course, and she wanted to ask if he intended to hand that information over, if he would tell Xander that she had the talisman inside her that they needed to do…the thing she did not want to think about.
“You’ve known Xander for that long?” she asked carefully, wondering if she could discern if all their sniping at one another were truly hatred or something else.
“Unfortunately.” Damien cleared his throat. “Amma, I’ve been thinking: you must be concerned with what’s going on in Faebarrow, yes?”
Amma’s heart shot up into her throat—that was a good way to get her to change the subject. “Yes,” she said desperately, moving to stand right before him. He took a large step back, away from the aura of the codex. She dumped the book onto a sofa and closed the distance between them again. “Do you know? Is there a way to tell?”
“There is, but it won’t be quick. We’re in the Accursed Wastes, and west of here is The Wilds and then Eiren’s eastern border. We’re about as far from your home in the west of the realm as we can be. But we can send a message to someone there and hope for a response. Would you like to do that?” His violet eyes were searching her face, hesitant.
Amma nodded vigorously. “Very much so.”
“All right, good. I considered a message to Tia, but she has likely had enough of ravens berating her. Your friend, the half-elven woman Laurel, she was not at the banquet when things occurred, but would she be privy enough to other goings on to offer a useful response?”
