“I didn’t say see,” said Medivh sharply. “I said sense.”
Khadgar took a deep breath and cast a minor spell, one that sharpened the senses and helped find lost articles. It was a simple divination, one he had used hundreds of times in the Violet Citadel. It was particularly good for finding things that others wanted to keep hidden.
But even upon the first intoned words, Khadgar could feel it was different. There was a sluggishness to the magic in this room. Often magic had a feel of lightness and energy, but this felt more viscous, almost liquid in nature. Khadgar had never felt it before, and wondered if it was because of the circles of power, or powers and cantrips of the late mages themselves.
It was a thick feeling, like stale air in a room that had been shuttered for years. Khadgar tried to pull the energies together, but they seemed to resist, to follow his desires with only the greatest reluctance.
Khadgar’s face grew stern as he tried to pull more of the power of the room, of the magical energies, into himself. This was a simple spell. If anything, it should be easier in a place where such castings would be commonplace.
And suddenly the young mage was inundated with the thick fetid feel of the magic. It was suddenly upon him and surrounding him, as if he had pulled the bottom-most stone out and brought down a wall upon himself. The force of the dark, heavy magic fell upon him in a thick blanket, crushing the spell beneath him and driving him physically to his knees. Despite himself, he cried out.
Medivh was at his side at once, helping the young mage to his feet. “There, there,” said the Magus, “I didn’t expect you to succeed even that well. Good try. Excellent work.”
“What is it?” managed Khadgar, suddenly able to breath again. “It was like nothing I’ve felt before. Heavy. Resistant. Smothering.”
“That’s good news for you, then,” said Medivh. “Good that you sensed it. Good that you carried through. The magic has been particularly twisted here, a remnant of what occurred earlier.”
“You mean like a haunting?” said Khadgar. “Even in Karazhan, I never…”
“No, not like that,” said Medivh. “Something much worse. The two dead mages here were summoning demons. It’s that taint that you feel here, that heaviness of magic. A demon was here. That is what killed Huglar and Hugarin, the poor, powerful idiots.”
There was a silence of a moment, then Lothar said, “Demons? In the king’s towers? I cannot believe…”
“Oh, believe,” said Medivh. “No matter how learned and knowledgeable, how wise and wonderful, how powerful and puissant, there is always one more sliver of power, one more bit of knowledge, one more secret to be learned by any mage. I think these two fell into that trap, and called upon forces from beyond the Great Dark Beyond, and paid the price for it. Idiots. They were friends and colleagues, and they were idiots.”
“But how?” said Lothar. “Surely there were to be protections. Wards. This is a mystic circle of power.”
“Easily breached, easy broken,” said Medivh, leaning over the ring the glimmered with the dried blood of the two mages. He reached down and produced a thin straw that had laid over the cooling stones. “A-hah! A simple broom straw. If this was here when they began their summonings, all the adjurations and phylacteries in the world would not protect them. The demon would consider the circle to be no more than an arch, a gateway into this world. He would come out, hellfire blazing, and attack the poor fools who brought him into this world. I’ve seen it before.”
Khadgar shook his head. The thick darkness that seemed to press in on all sides of him seemed to lift somewhat, and he gathered his wits about him. He looked around the room. It was already a disaster area—the demon had torn everything apart in its assault. If there was a broom straw breaking the circle, then it surely should have been moved elsewhere during the battle.
“How were the bodies found?” asked Khadgar.
“What?” said Medivh, with a sharpness that almost made Khadgar jump.
“I’m sorry,” Khadgar responded quickly. “You said I should ask questions.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Medivh, cooling his harsh tone only a notch. To the King’s Champion he said, “Well, Anduin Lothar, how were the bodies found?”
“When I came in, they were on the ground. The servant had not moved them,” said Lothar.
“Faceup or facedown, sir?” said Khadgar, as calmly as he could. He could feel the icy stare of the elder mage. “Heads toward the circle or toward the window?”
Lothar’s face clouded in memory. “Toward the circle. And facedown. Yes, definitely. They were badly scorched all over, and we had to turn them over to make sure it was Huglar and Hugarin.”
“What are you driving at, Young Trust?” said the Magus, now seated by the open window, stroking his beard.
Khadgar looked at the two scorch marks between the malfunctioned protective circle and the window, and tried to think of them both as bodies and not think of them as once-living mages. “If you hit someone from the front, they fall backward. If you hit someone from the back, they fall forward. Was the window open when you arrived?”
Lothar looked at the open bay window, the great city beyond forgotten for the moment. “Yes. No. Yes, I think it was. But it could have been opened by the servant. There was a horrible stench—that’s what brought attention to it in the first place. I can ask.”
“No need,” said Medivh. “The window was likely open when your servant entered.” The Magus rose and walked to where the scorch marks were. “So you think, Young Trust,” he said, “that Huglar and Hugarin were standing here, watching the magic circle, and something came in the window and hit them from the back.” For effect he smacked himself against the back of the head with an open palm. “They fell forward, and were burned in that position.”
“Yes, sir,” said Khadgar. “I mean, it’s a theory.”
“A good one,” said Medivh. “But wrong, I’m afraid. In the first place, the two mages would be standing there, facing nothing at all, unless they were looking at the magic circle. Therefore they were summoning a demon. Such a circle would not be used otherwise.”
“But…” started Khadgar, and the Magus froze his words in his throat with a harsh glance.
“And,” continued Medivh, “while that would work with a single attacker with a sap or a club, it does not function as well for the dark energies of demons. Had the beast breathed fire, it could have caught both men standing, killed them, and only after being set alight, the bodies fell forward. You said the bodies were burned front and back?” He put that question to Lothar.
“Yes,” said the King’s Champion.
Medivh held a palm up in front of him. “Demon breathes fire. Burns the front. Huglar (or Hugarin) falls forward, flames spread to the back. Unless the demon hit Hugarin (or Huglar) in the back, then turned them over to make sure the front was burned, then turned them over again. Hardly likely—demons are not that methodical.”
Khadgar felt his face warm from embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It was just a theory.”
“And a good one,” said Medivh quickly. “Just in error, that’s all. You’re right, the window would be open, because that was how the demon left the tower. It is at large in the city right now.”
Lothar cut short a curse, and said, “Are you sure?”
Medivh nodded. “Completely. But it will probably be laying low for the moment. Even killing two fools like Huglar and Hugarin by surprise would tax any but the most powerful creature’s abilities.”
“I can organize search parties within the hour,” said Lothar.
“No,” said Medivh. “I want to do this myself. No use throwing away good lives after bad. I’ll want to see the remains, of course. That will tell me what we’re dealing with here.”
“We moved them to a cool room in the wine cellar,” said Lothar. “I can take you there.”