The Darkness in the Light (short story)

This month, I figured I'd pull one of my older short stories that only a few of you have likely read. The Darkness in the Light appeared back in 2023 in Fang 11. I completed edits on this though back in 2020, so this piece is over five years old now. Anyway, I hope you all are having a happy Halloween, and I hope you enjoy this fantastical and spicy tale.

Charexin glanced at the wrinkled map and then back up at the town in the valley below. The map called this place Chaucer and had a little tower above the name, signifying a keep or a castle. The town Charexin was looking at had no castle, no keep, and no defenses at all. Instead it was a small sleepy farming village, and from where he was standing on the hills above it, he wasn’t even sure it was big enough to have an inn. It likely wasn’t going to have a very good one if it did.

“Another dead end,” muttered the wolf, rolling the map up and sticking it back into its scroll case. If there had been a wizard’s tower here, why wasn’t there one anymore? Hopefully someone in this town would be able to tell him what happened.

After shoving the scroll case back into his bag, he picked up his pack and started down the road into the village. He passed fields of wheat and small farmhouses as the lane wound through the valley. Nothing about this area seemed remarkable to the wolf’s eyes. The people waved, but no one approached him, and he didn’t see any signs of ruins. Most of the farmhouses were small wood frame buildings with thatched roofs on stone block foundations, but a few were actually made of stone.

The village itself was on a small knoll in the middle of the valley. Charexin did find an inn, and his ears perked up when he saw it, tail wagging in excitement. The structure was built against a thirty-foot long section of stone wall, likely the only remaining part of the keep from the map. The building was three stories tall, and the first two were built flush against the wall while the third story was above the battlement. A door out of the third floor connected to the top of the wall. The sign hanging from above the door had a barrel with a mug of beer and a wand lying across the mug with the words, “The Wizard’s Cellar,” written on it.

While promising, Charexin noted the other structures nearby all seemed to have recycled leftover stone from what was likely had once been a keep of some type. The smoke coming out of the inn’s chimney and the smell of cooking food at least told the wolf he’d find a good meal, so he entered the inn to secure lodgings and to catch some gossip. Someone here likely would tell him the history of this place for a drink.

Most of the first floor of the inn was occupied by the common room with a kitchen in the back. A long bar with barrels behind it sat on one side with some private booths against the walls. A staircase led upstairs, and simple tables and chair filled the rest of the space. The crowd seemed to be made of locals, and everyone inside glanced at him while he entered and walked over to the bar, but none of their gazes lingered. He at least passed for an uninteresting traveler, and Charexin wanted to keep it that way. It made the work he did easier, if people didn’t take notice of him.

The bartender, a cheerful looking badger, waved at him as he approached. “Ah, a fresh face in town I see. The name’s Pilth, and if you are looking for a good meal and a place to sleep tonight, you’ve come to the right place.”

“You seem to be the only place in town that I’ve seen,” remarked the wolf.

“Indeed, I am, but I have not let the lack of competitors dampen my standards, good sir.”

The wolf nodded. The smell coming out of the kitchen was mouthwatering, and his tail was still wagging. “Do you have a room to rent for the night? I’d like a private one if I can get it.”

The badger nodded. “We’ve got plenty of rooms here. Not many people passing through Chaucer these days.”

“No?”

“Not at all. We see a few merchants, but the farming isn’t as good as it used to be. I can’t think when the last time I had all the rooms here rented. Probably when the mayor’s son got married three years ago, but I can’t recall for sure. Regardless, can I get you something to drink, stranger?”

The wolf nodded. “You got any beer?”

“Oh yeah, I make it myself from an old family recipe. I’ve got a couple different types. Perhaps a good farmer’s ale for you?”

“That would work,” said Charexin. “I was hoping having ‘cellar’ in the name meant you also brewed.”

“Oh sure,” said the badger, going over to a keg on the back walk, “but that’s not why the place is named the Wizard’s Cellar.”

Charexin smiled. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be a waste after all. “Why is that?”

“The inn is built over the remains of what used to be a wizard’s tower. The cellar is part of the original structure. That’s what the old stretch of wall comes from.” The badger came back with a tankard, and misread the wolf’s perked ears for concern and not excitement. “Don’t worry though, all of that arcane magic that used to be here is all gone.”

The wolf aahed and tried not to look disappointed as he took the mug. That wasn’t going to be useful. “Better for the town I imagine.”

“Oh yeah, much better.”

Charexin lifted the tankard and took a sip. The beer was excellent and that gave him an idea. “All of that magic is gone, you say? This beer is far better than what I’ve had in the cities. You sure you aren’t using some type of sorcery to make it?”

The badger grinned. “Just knowledge passed down generation to generation. It’s my understanding that what the wizard did who lived here was more likely to taint the land than enrich it, but some clerics came after him and spent a lot of time blessing the ruins. If it’s got magic in it, blame the clerics.”

Clerics? That was a new one. From the age of the building, it looked like the wolf was at least a hundred years too late to find anything interesting here, but the fact whatever this wizard did entailed getting clerics to clean it up intrigued him.

He took another sip of the beer. “Well, glad the beer comes out good.”

“If you like that, you are going to love the stew I’ve got going.”

The wolf wagged his tail. He’d only had a little jerky earlier for lunch. “Then I would take a bowl.”

***

The stew was excellent, putting to shame many of the meals he’d had back in the capital. Charexin had eaten a lot of tavern food over the years and the Wizard’s Cellar certainly had some of the best he’d seen. If Chaucer wasn’t so far away from any place the wolf wanted to be, he’d certainly be passing through town to stop here.

The room the badger gave him was simply furnished, but it smelled clean and had been swept. Yet as he sat on the bed and looked over the map, he couldn’t decide what his next move should be. The people who’d sent him were expecting results, but so far, he had nothing to show for his hunt.

He’d visited all the major ruins near the coastal cities, and he was at a loss of what to do next. The next wizard tower on the map was at least a hundred miles south, and he’d even seen it with his own eyes as a pup. It had been ruined for a long time and he doubted he’d find anything of interest there. He could head back home and hope someone at the Scriptorium had found some clues to where the Sunstone was, but he doubted anything was going to come of that.

The wolf dug into his pack and pulled out an old book, flipping it open. He couldn’t take his library with him on a trip like this, but he’d brought the most important books. Opening the volume to the marked page in it he reread, likely for the hundredth time, the words that had set him on this hunt.

“Where the sun touches the green fields and bathes them in gold, where the sky is the deepest blue, there is a tower of the finest stone. Upon the altar to the sky, the Sunstone rests, waiting to be called upon.”

The prophecy was so simple and clear, and yet so useless. The sun touched all the green fields, and how was the sky to be bluer than it already was? Charexin had first thought it would be located in a magical place, but as he’d traveled, he’d started to wonder if it would be a place with renowned farms. The map had the same inscription written on the back in the old script, but what connection it had to the prophecy he’d not been able to suss out. The wolf hoped when he found the map, on a lucky trip to a bookseller who dealt in rare volumes, it would be a key clue in deciphering the prophecy. So far it had just led him around the kingdom.

The valley Chaucer lay in had a reputation for good farming, and while he did not see the sky as any different, the description might be an allegory for a particularly rich land. For this part of the prophecy, Chaucer was a prime candidate, and now that he’d seen the town, he could understand how it might fit the description. There was the problem of the tower though. If the Sunstone had been in town at one point, whatever had destroyed the tower or caused it to be razed would have long since disturbed its resting place on the altar to the sky.

If the tower had been blown up, it was possible the Sunstone still was here, but an entire town had been built over the ruins. Likely whoever destroyed that tower would have known about the artifact and made a search to recover it, or taken it before destroying the tower. There was also the problem of the clerics purifying the area. If the stone was here and they’d taken it, the clerics had kept their possession of the stone a secret for a long time.

The wolf looked at the map. A few small houses had been drawn next to the tower. Chaucer either predated the razing or had been rebuilt upon the ruins. Or the artist had taken artistic license and drawn the place to be more important than it was. It seemed weird that this small sleepy town could be so integral to the prophecy. He’d barely seen it mentioned in the chronicles at the Scriptorium outside of the tax rolls, and he’d never seen anything about the wizard tower here being destroyed. That was something someone adding to the chronicles would have made a note of.

Unless what happened here was so important, so critical to the prophecy, that it had been omitted from the chronicles to keep things like the Sunstone buried in the past. A strategic misdirection by the sages of yore to throw off anyone who went looking for it.

If there was something for him to find here, he was going to need to ask around. The tavern owner might know a few things he could use, but Charexin would need to see if the town had any archive he could access. It was also possible the cellar of the inn might give him some clues as to what happened here.

The wolf rolled up the map and sighed. He didn’t know what he could find here in Chaucer, but if there was something to help his quest, he was going to find it. He wasn’t the only one looking for the Sunstone either, so he needed to hurry.

***

The tavern was quiet in the morning when he descended the stairs into the common room. A stoat was wiping down tables while the badger from last night was tending the fire.

“Already working?” asked Charexin, walking up to Pilth.

The badger stood up after adding another log to the fire. “The life of a tavern owner is never dull. Will you be wanting breakfast?”

“If you have it.”

“I’ve got some cheese and bread. I don’t get many overnight guests, so I don’t have anything prepared.” He scratched at the fur at the back of his neck. “I should have asked you last night if you wanted something.”

“It’s no trouble. I was hoping to stay for a few days, so perhaps tomorrow then?”

“Of course,” nodded Pilth. “I’ll make some porridge in the morning. Is there anything else you need today?”

“Just the food,” said the wolf, walking over to the bar. He waited while the badger brought his meal and placed the bread and cheese down in front of him. A mug of beer also appeared, and the wolf didn’t ask why. He reached for the mug and took a sip. This beer was light and smooth, a different type then he had last night.

“What business did bring you to Chaucer, if I might ask?” the badger inquired.

The wolf set the mug down. “I’m cataloging wizard’s towers in the kingdom. I found an old map pointing to one being here that I never heard of before. I see why it’s no longer noted down.”

“Yes, it’s been gone for a while.”

“Do you have any idea what happened here? I’ve never read of there being a big battle out this way.”

The badger frowned. “People around here don’t talk about that.”

Charexin took another sip of his beer and broke off a piece of bread. “It’s not remarked in the chronicles I’ve seen.”

The badger nodded.

“Why?”

“Bad stuff happened here, but the clerics came and fixed it all.”

“What kind of bad stuff?”

The badger traced a claw along the wood grain in his bar. “The type of stuff that people don’t tell their kids about and certainly don’t tell strangers about.”

He wanted to ask questions, but the badger seemed resistant. He also needed someone in town who would give him a place to stay. He picked up the mug to take another sip. “Dark magic is never something to toy with, but some people can’t resist the temptation.”

The badger eyed him. “No they can’t. What about you? What type of magic tempts you?”

“I’m not tempted by…” the badger was looking at him intensely, “…dark magic.”

The badger cleared his throat. “I think you should leave.”

“You don’t understand,” said the wolf.

“I understand enough. Anyone who comes here looking for a wizard tower is not any friend of mine. Chaucer is past that. We aren’t going back,” growled the badger.

The wolf put down the mug of beer. “I mean you and Chaucer no harm.”

“Then you should leave.”

“No,” said the wolf. “I’ve been searching too long not to find answers.”

“There is nothing for you here. You may finish your meal, but please leave. I will not rent you a room again for the night.” The badger walked off.

Great, this was already going sideways. Charexin looked down at his meal and picked up the bread to eat in silence.

***

By the time he came downstairs with his stuff, two guards carrying swords were in the common room, a male rabbit and a female lynx. They immediately stepped toward the bottom of the stairs to confront the wolf.

“A welcoming party?” asked Charexin. He glanced around to the locate the badger. Pilth was talking to a fox who had his back to the wolf. The stoat who’d been cleaning up earlier was also there, and he was warily eying the wolf.

The lynx cleared her throat. “By order of the Townmaster, we are here to escort you out of the valley.”

“Charming,” said the wolf. “Am I not to be trusted to leave on my own?” The fox and Pilth had turned their attention toward him, but Charexin kept his eyes on the guards.

The rabbit spoke up. “I do not know if you understand the seriousness of what you’ve done, so we’re here to make sure you do.”

Seriousness? “I only asked questions.”

“Dark magic is not welcome here,” said the lynx.

The wolf growled. “Dark magic? Questions are dark magic?”

“Don’t make this difficult for yourself,” said the lynx as she pulled her sword out.

The wolf glanced around, and smirked. This would not do. He put down his pack. “No, I think I’m exactly where I need to be. You will answer my questions.” He called out to Pilth. “If the barkeep would be so kind, pour some of your wonderful beer for everyone; I believe we can settle this amicably.”

The rabbit frowned and looked back at the others in the room. “It’s five against one,” he said.

The wolf flicked his hand and the door to the inn bolted shut across the room. “Indeed. You should have brought more people if you wanted to threaten me.”

The men looked pale and the stoat stepped back, but the fox who’d turned his attention to the wolf only glanced toward the door. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “Pilth, you should have told me we’re dealing with a wizard.”

“I didn’t know…”

“No matter.” The fox looked at the wolf carefully with an intensity that surprised Charexin. He was about Charexin’s age and was carrying a staff of wood, something the wolf hadn’t noticed at first. The sudden realization of recognition hit the wolf then. They both stared at each other, surprised to see the other. It had been ten years since either had spoken, and their words had not been kind for each other then. “Poor two mugs, Pilth, and I will talk to him alone,” said the fox finally.

“Sir…” said one of the guards.

The fox made a gesture, and Charexin felt the tickle of arcane energy against his whiskers. The front door unlocked. “I’ll be fine, but don’t let anyone inside. You should also leave, Pilth, after you get the beer.”

The badger squared his shoulders. “The hell I’m leaving my own inn!”

“Suit yourself, but you know the cost.” He waved to the guards. “Wait outside please and make sure we aren’t disturbed.”

They looked at each other, confused. “And if you need help?” one of them asked.

“I’ll be fine, but you’ll know if I do. Now please wait outside.”

“Yes sir!” they said and exited the common room with the stoat following them. The badger watched them nervously.

“The beer, Pilth,” said the fox, walking over to a table and sitting down. He gestured to Charexin to the chair in front of him.

“Of course,” said the badger, getting the mugs. The wolf sat down and waited for the beer to be delivered, which quickly came. Then Pilth stepped back and waited.

The wolf glanced at the badger. “You want this conversation to be overheard?”

“I trust Pilth,” said the fox, pulling a mug over and sniffing at it. “It’s you I don’t trust.”

Charexin put a hand to his chest. “Ibras, I’m offended. We studied together. I know it’s been a while, but you should at least let me talk before you throw an accusation like that at me.”

The fox narrowed his eyes. “You are here for a reason. It’s my duty to protect this town.”

The wolf picked up his beer. “I see. How does a graduate of the college end up here in a farming community as Townmaster? Do they know you’re adept in the art?”

“Please Charexin, don’t try and undermine my authority here for your foolish games. This isn’t the college. You spent more time in trouble than anyone else. It’s a wonder you graduated at all.”

The wolf huffed. “Mm, well if you want to play it like that, we can get down to business. I’m looking for something.”

The fox nodded. “It’s not here. There’s nothing here.”

“Ibras, please don’t try and play me for a fool. You’re here, and that tells me there is something here. It may not be what I’m looking for, but I doubt you would spend your time here if there wasn’t something worth protecting or investigating. You were not known for your charity back in school.”

“People change, Charexin. Some of us learn from our mistakes.”

“Ha, very funny,” said the wolf. “Still bitter I see. Well I can’t say you shouldn’t be. People do change, but if you’ve changed, then perhaps I have also.” He fished into his pack and pulled out the map tube.

The fox narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything as the wolf unrolled the map and spread it across the table.

“Tell me what you see first.”

“It’s a map of the kingdom.”

“Indeed, but look harder. You too, Pilth. Tell me when you figure it out.”

The badger walked over and looked at the map. “I don’t see a lot of maps, so I’m not sure what I’m looking at.”

The fox was glancing over the map curiously. “Someone charted where all the wizard’s towers were.”

“And?”

The vertical slit eyes narrowed as he traced a finger across the paper. “How old is this?”

“This copy? I made it myself, but the original is over three hundred years old.”

The fox’s finger stopped at the capital of the kingdom. He looked at it and then to where Chaucer was on the map. “The college isn’t marked on the map.”

“No, it’s not, but the college is older than the map.”

“It’s a possible unintentional omission.”

“I thought that too. I’m not so sure.”

“What is this language?” asked Pilth, pointing to the side of the map.

The wolf replied. “It’s an archaic form of common. It used to be written with glyphs before we switched to the runic alphabet.”

“If so, what makes you think it’s only three hundred years old?” said the badger.

Charexin pointed to a village outside of the capital. A bridge was drawn crossing the river. “That bridge was built three hundred years ago when the king’s highway was built. You’ll notice the king’s highway is also present.”

Ibras looked at the inscription and translated it to himself. “’Towers of the Mages of Thesau?’”

“Actually, I had to look that glyph up. It says ‘Hideouts of the Mages of Thesau.’ I bought this from the bookseller who supplies the Scriptorium. It looked vaguely interesting, something I could put up on the wall, but I didn’t think much of it until I studied it carefully. I think it is the key to something greater. Let me show you what’s on the back.”

Ibras pulled back and the wolf flipped the map over. There were more glyphs on the back and Ibras read them himself.

“That’s the prophecy of the Sunstone.”

“Yes it is. It’s here, isn’t it?” said Charexin. “That’s why you are here, to guard it.”

The fox pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “First, there is no Sunstone here. I’m here because my family is from here. I returned home to take my father’s place after he passed.”

“It’s got to be here. I’ve searched across the kingdom and there are very few places I have not seen.”

“If I might intrude, what is the Sunstone?” asked the badger.

Ibras glanced toward the barkeep. “A lost artifact that is said to allow the user to channel the power of sunlight itself. It’s been missing for hundreds of years. It is said to be quite powerful. Who knows what happened to it. It may never have even existed for all we know.”

“Chaucer is a perfect match for the prophecy,” insisted Charexin.

The fox laughed. “Chaucer has no mages tower for the stone to rest in. That’s been gone for a long time, and what happened here was very different. Even if it had been here, it’s long gone. Have you really been spending your time searching for the Sunstone?”

The wolf huffed. “Why? Going to lecture me again about my duties and neglecting my studies?”

“I just wanted what was best for you.”

“Did you? It felt sometimes like you wanted me to do what was best for you.”

The fox sighed. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“I have.” Charexin smiled, showing fangs. “I’m not the person I used to be.”

“I would hope not. He was insufferable.”

“So were you.”

They lapsed into silence and the badger spoke up. “You two have a long history.”

“Very long,” said the fox.

“He used to cry out passionately in the night as I ravished him,” said the wolf, “but then he left me in the gutter to rot.”

The fox blinked and stared at Charexin. “You are a craven asshole.”

“No, just bitter, but I directed my energy toward other things.” He cleared his throat. “So, where is the Sunstone?”

“It’s not here.”

The wolf leaned over the table. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? How the hell am I going to prove something isn’t here? On what authority do you think I even have to?”

The wolf smoothed down his hackles. He hadn’t realized they’d gone up, but the fox had always gotten a rise out of him in one way or another. “If you give me a moment, I can show you.” He reached down into his pack, and pulled out a spellbook, setting it down on the table. He flipped it open and pulled out a letter tucked in the front cover, handing it to Ibras. “Here.”

Confused, the fox took the letter and looked at the broken seal before he unfolded it. “The High Council sent you?”

“Tasked me is more the way to think about it. There isn’t an exact destination to go to.”

“’The who asked him to come here?” inquired Pilth.

“The High Council of the Mage’s College tasked me to find the Sunstone and either recover it or destroy it. There are rumors other people are looking for it, and they don’t want that falling into the wrong paws.”

“They asked you?” The fox flipped the letter over to examine it. “You? Please tell me this is a fake.”

“You miss a lot when you aren’t in the capital, but it made sense not to ask a high-level mage to do it. They would draw too much attention.”

The pull of magic was sudden and forceful as Ibras probed his mind. If he’d been prepared for it, Charexin could have resisted the spell, but he was taken completely off guard by the divination. Instead he slumped into the chair, falling out of it, when the spell suddenly released.

“The fuck! Is that the only way you can trust me?” sputtered the wolf on the ground.

The fox said nothing and regarded the wolf thoughtfully.

“What… what did you do to him?” asked the badger.

The fox’s ears flicked in thought. “I read his mind.”

“YOU READ HIS MIND?”

The fox looked up. “I needed to know if we could trust him.”

The badger’s face twisted and he made a warding symbol as the fox got up and picked up his staff. He started to pace around the room while the wolf sputtered.

“You dick,” said the wolf, finally getting to his feet. “You have no right to go into my mind like that.”

“You always were bad at divination. It doesn’t surprise me you don’t think about protecting yourself from it.”

The wolf balled up his fists, snarling.

“I wouldn’t waste your energy on that,” said Ibras.

“After all these years, you still can’t trust me to do what is right,” spat Charexin. “Well, do you believe me now that you’ve been inside my head?”

The fox stopped pacing and turned to face the wolf. “Yes, but if the stone was here, I should have been able to sense it.”

“And where did you learn magic like that?” asked Charexin.

“You aren’t the only one who has been searching for secrets.” The fox sighed and turned to Pilth. “We should show our friend here the basement. I believe he’ll understand the situation much better then.”

The badger nodded and walked behind the bar. “Let me get the key.”

***

Pilth carried a lantern as he led them down a set of wooden stairs into the cellar. The room was dressed in carefully cut stone and was stocked with various barrels of beer aging along with casks of wine and liquor.

“This is quite the operation,” said the wolf as he looked over the barrels.

“Thanks,” said Pilth. “I really enjoyed it, and I have a innate knack for it I guess.”

“I swear you use some type of magic to make this,” remarked Ibras.

The badger just shrugged.

Charexin cleared his throat. “So why are we down here?”

Ibras strode across the room next to a rack of wine barrels. “Come this way, and you’ll see.” Carefully the fox squeezed behind the rack, disappearing with his staff.

“Do you want to go before me?” the wolf asked the badger.

“I do not wish to go down there again. This is something I cannot assist with.”

The wolf frowned and walked over to the rack of wine barrels. Behind them was a narrow gap about a foot wide that led into darkness. Carefully he pressed himself through the space, shuffling against the stone until suddenly he felt the wall end.

“Spooky, isn’t it?” said the fox, his eyes shining from the little light escaping around the barrels.

“I can’t see crap in here.”

“Oh sorry.” Ibras tapped his staff against the ground and a small ball of light formed at the top of the staff, illuminating the chamber behind the barrels. Against the back wall an iron grate covered a small opening, a lock hanging off of it. “I’m surprised you don’t carry a staff. They’re very useful thing.”

“I’ve learned to work without one, but,” the wolf snapped the fingers of his right hand and in his left hand a wooden staff appeared. “I’ve created a little pocket dimension to keep mine in so I can keep a low profile when traveling.”

“Impressive,” said Ibras, “not everyone can master that.”

“Thank you.”

“How long do you want me to wait for you,” called Pilth.

“We’ll be a while, so you might as well wait upstairs. If you feed the guards, I’ll pay you back for that.”

“Fair enough,” called the badger. His footsteps retreated across the stone floor of the cellar and then the creak of the steps was heard.

Charexin walked over to the iron grate and peered through it. “This was part of the tower?”

“It appears so,” said the fox, walking over and unlocking the gate with a key. He swung it open and the wolf started to enter the passageway down, but the fox stopped him. “Before you go, I want to say I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“For everything.”

The wolf’s ears flattened. “Everything?”

“The spell, but also what happened back at the college. That spell lets you detect the feelings of someone, but it’s dangerous to use on someone you love. Having a strong connection to an individual makes it more powerful. You learn things from it you shouldn’t know.”

The wolf frowned. “What types of things?”

“Well, for starters, I know you’re not lying about why you’re here, and I know seeing me brings back a lot of old memories, not all of them good. You regret what happened between us.”

The wolf was silent for a moment. “You got all of that from a spell?”

“The last part is based on the connection we have. Had I not known you, it would not have been so thorough.”

“This is what I hate about magic like that. It messes with people in ways it shouldn’t. In ways I won’t.”

“Oh, it’s dark magic, I admit, but just a little goes a long way when you run a small town and need to know if people are lying to you. That’s really all it’s good for, but if you know someone well, if you know them really well, it tells you a lot more.”

“Please tell me you aren’t charming people around here to keep the peace.”

The fox shook his head. “Absolutely not. Mostly it’s all paperwork and settling silly disputes, but this, this is why I’m here. I’ll show you why the townsfolk don’t talk about the wizard’s tower with outsiders. It’s why I went to the college in the first place.”

If Ibras was guarding what lay below, it likely was of great importance. It must be the type of thing that had to be protected. “I see. Lead on then,” said the wolf, both suddenly curious and worried.

The stairs descended straight down in a passage carved into the stone below the basement. The fox walked in front, using his staff to light the way, and the wolf followed, pondering what Ibras had said. The air in the shaft was still and damp. The only marks on the walls were where the pickaxes used to dig the tunnel had scarred the stone.

After descending a few hundred feet, they came to the bottom of the stairs. Stepping through a doorway, they entered a large room, carved out of the stone. Two rows of pillars supported the roof of the chamber where at the far end sat an altar.

Charexin paused to scent the air. It was dusty and stale, but there was a tang about it too. There was magic here, and he could feel it tingling at the edge of his whiskers.

“This is what I have to protect,” said the fox. He waved his hand and a set of charcoal braziers hanging from the pillars in the room lit up.

“What is this place?”

Ibras pointed to the altar. “Go, you’ll see.”

The wolf stepped into the room, his claws clicking against the stone floor as he walked. His tail bristled as he felt the power in the room. Slowly he strode towards the altar, looking around. There were no runes on the pillars, no symbols or iconography of any kind. Only an altar that stood at the far side of the room with a slab atop it. The stone was large enough for a person to lie down on and a channel had been cut at the bottom to collect any liquid that dripped off it.

“They sacrificed people here?” said the wolf turning.

“Indeed,” said the fox pulling a small dagger from his cloak. “Many people died down here to feed the land of the valley. It’s why it’s so rich.”

The wolf eyes narrowed, as he looked at the dagger. He clenched his staff as the fox walked across the room toward him.

“Oh, you needn’t fear,” said the fox.

“You won’t find me so easy to prey on when I’m prepared.”

The fox chuckled. “You say that, but I’m not sure. I think we’d both enjoy a fight like that, but it’s not you this dagger is for. Step to the side and I’ll show you.”

The wolf stepped back and the fox walked up to the altar. Ibras reached up with the small dagger and made a tiny cut in the pad of his paw, letting a drop of blood drip onto the slab. Immediately the stone glowed with a red light.

“Long before the wizard came and built his tower here, druids used to worship in this chamber. They believed by following the cycle of life and death they could bring prosperity to this valley. I can find no records of what rituals they performed in this shrine, but the farms in this valley were rich and prosperous. A town was built here. At some point, a powerful wizard came and built a tower with the entrance to this shrine secreted away. They say he performed many dark rituals here and the shrine became corrupted.”

“This isn’t recorded in the chronicles.”

“No, it’s not. It’s barely spoken about here, but the clerics who came when the wizard summoned something he couldn’t control likely recorded that. I don’t know which order came, but I doubt they’d show me their records if I knew. They ripped down the tower and purified the shrine as best they could, then sealed it away. For a while no one came here, but the land was still rich. The remaining farms here were prosperous, and a new town sprung up on top of the ruins, keeping the same name as the old.”

“And the shrine?”

The fox pulled his hand back and the light faded. “It slumbers. The druids are long gone, and I wish not to see darkness embrace this place again. I do not know if the fact it responds to blood is the doing of the druids or the wizard. Slowly though the magic is fading.”

“You think it needs to be fed?”

“Possibly, but I refuse to perpetuate that darkness. It is likely that when the magic finally fades Chaucer will fade with it. The land here has always been surprisingly productive for how poor the soil is.”

The wolf frowned. “And the Sunstone?”

The fox turned toward the wolf. “It’s possible it was here. It’s possible it was used to capture the light of the sun and feed this shrine here in the darkness. There are no inscriptions that I’ve ever found. There are no records that have survived here.”

“I’m told the ancient druids were not big on recording things in paper. They used oral traditions.”

“Indeed. Few stories about this shrine have survived. I looked hard for information. I never found anything beyond the scattered fragments of lore my family collected over the years. Even people like Pilth, whose family lived here when the tower still stood, do not know what happened here.” Ibras sighed. “I’ve tried to decipher the enchantments, so I could understand what they do, but nothing I’ve done brings me closer to understanding the purpose of the shrine or how the enchantments work.”

“I’m going to assume finding a druid is out of the question?”

“I’ve tried that, but the magic is just different. It’s not from a tradition they could identify or knew of. To them, it’s like you or I trying to read a spell book in a different language.”

The wolf pondered and started to walk around the sacrificial altar. “They cut channels in the block to collect blood. Does it react to the blood of a feral creature?”

“I did not try it myself, but the druids I consulted with experimented with the blood of a chicken. The stone did not react to that. It appears only to react only to the blood of a sapient creature.”

“You said dark magic was practiced here by the wizard.”

“Necromancy, summoning fiends, the types of things that will get you thrown out of the college. The details are sketchy.”

“Hmmm. Life and death. It responds to death.” The wolf paused. “Have you tried life?”

“Life?”

“Yes, life.”

“I don’t follow,” said the fox. “Just sitting on the altar?”

The wolf chuckled. “No no. The act of creating life.” Ibras blinked at him confused. “Have you tried fucking on top of the altar?”

The fox frowned. “I mean no, but…” he thought for a moment. “It might work?”

The wolf chuckled. “The ancient druids did not just worship death but the cycle of life itself. It’s possible a spilling of seed might provide the recharge you need.”

“That seems overly simplistic though. I recall quite clearly the warnings our teachers told us about mixing magic and sex.”

“Oh, you can screw that up royally, but I recall someone was quite adept with a little telekinesis during foreplay.”

“Twisting a nipple during sex is one thing. Casting complex arcane rituals is absolutely out of the question, at least if you’re doing it right.”

The wolf barked, amused. “Of course, but who said you needed to cast anything. You just need to renew the contract of life for the land. It should be a straightforward thing.”

The fox considered and ran his hand over the surface of the stone. “The lack of any phallic imagery makes me wonder if that’s the right path to go down, but it might work.”

“Well, glad I could be of help.” The wolf turned. “Shall we go back upstairs?”

“Not yet. We should test your hypothesis.”

Charexin froze. “Test it? Ibras, we’re not compatible. Not like I thought we were.”

“Perhaps not, but I know deep down, you still care.”

The wolf swallowed hard. “Indeed, but—”

“And who better to test such a hypothesis then two highly trained magic users who would be able to respond to any unintended consequences of that action.”

The wolf blinked. “I’m not having ritualistic sex with you in a dungeon.” He just shook his head. “It’s not who we are anymore.”

“Who we were never involved doing something like this now, but I need someone I can try that with. Someone I trust.”

“And you trust me?”

“I have had a while to think about my actions and realize I should have. I have always been too rash when it comes to matters of the heart.”

In the back of his mind, he knew Ibras was right, if only to make sure nothing foul came out of the act, but it had been years since he’d seen Ibras. Years since they’d split up, years spent regretting what had happened.

The wolf softened. “You know make up sex has never been my speed.”

“Who said anything about us making up?” The fox smiled. “It would just be an experiment, nothing more.”

“Ah, but are you ready for it just to be an experiment? As you said, divination works much better when you know the target well.”

Ibras walked up to Charexin, getting close so he could look him in the eyes. He was slightly shorter than the wolf, and a little skinnier, but that did not take away from the power he possessed. He’d always been a better student than the wolf. Spells and techniques that took time for Charexin to learn the fox had mastered easily. The threads of magic woven upon the fox were strong, and this close, he could feel the arcane energy.

“I have my own regrets. I used to think we’d be together, learning and growing, but magic tends to be a lonely endeavor. In the end, our different interests drove us apart.”

The wolf shrugged. “You had a promising future working in the court. I was always more a hands-on type.”

The fox looked away. “Yes, well little good my aspirations did me there. Being a courtier is far more work than I wish to spend my time on. The needs of nobility rarely prove to be interesting. I kind of washed out, and opted to return home when father became ill. There’s at least something worthy of dealing with here. Where did you go, Charexin? No one mentioned you being around.”

The wolf shrugged. “Oh, I did some traveling. I worked in the Scriptorium for a while as a cataloger. Not very exciting work, but it let me pursue my research. It’s part of why they sent me to find the Sunstone.”

“Do you really think it still exists? It’s not been seen in a long time.”

“Someone does. With stories that old, it’s hard to say if they’re really true or not.”

“Hmm. Yeah. Obviously, the records we do have are also incomplete. We shouldn’t be surprised. Even with the best of intentions, a lot of dreams never come to fruition either.”

The wolf reached up to tickle at the underside of the fox’s muzzle. “You’re doing good work here. I know it’s not the grand work you dreamed about, but I can tell you’re doing the best you can.”

The big ears splayed. “That’s sweet of you.” He leaned forward and licked Charexin’s muzzle. “It makes me regret all the mean things I ever said about you.”

“Still cocky I see.”

The fox grinned and slowly pulled the wolf against himself. “Just shut up and let’s do this.”

“Hey now! I did not agree to do this yet.”

A paw stroked against his trousers. “You say that, but you’ve already got a chub going.”

The wolf shivered. “I never said I didn’t like having sex with you. I just didn’t like your smug attitude and the intrigue you got yourself tangled up into.”

“That was a different fox, one who hadn’t yet became bitter about the workings of the court. Someone who thought he could control the chaos around himself.”

Charexin chuckled and traced a finger along the fox’s muzzle. “You know that’s a fallacy though. One of the first lessons they teach us is no matter how good a mage you are, there will always be forces beyond your control. Did you forget that?’”

The fox grinned, running his paws around the wolf’s hips. “I thought I might be the exception, but later I learned some things I just couldn’t steer no matter how hard I tried.”

“Mm… and now?”

The fox licked his lips. “I need you to get naked and crawl up onto that altar.”

“And if I do?”

He leaned forward and nuzzled the wolf so he could whisper into his ear. “We’ll see if I can still keep my concentration to do a little telekinesis during sex.”

The wolf shivered. He’d not slept with someone else who could do what Ibras could do in bed, even if they were a magic user.

The fox lowered his hands so he could grasp the wolf’s rump and pulled him against himself. “I know you like that.”

“I do,” whispered the wolf already excited, “but should we first prepare ourselves in some way? This is a ritual.”

The fox considered for a moment. “I have an incantation I could try, but that’s all I’ve got. I wish I knew more about what rituals were practiced here.”

It was risky. Nothing might happen or something bad could occur. They’d each had their own magical mishaps during their studies. Experimentation and practice were key parts of learning magic, but there was no way of knowing what would happen here. There was also the curiosity of learning something new that excited the wolf. It’s what had drove him to study magic in the first place.

“Well we might as well see what happens,” he said, breaking from the grip of the fox so he could undress.

They both took their clothes off and left them in front of the altar. They leaned their staves against one of the pillars. The wolf fished into the pocket of his clothes and pulled out a small vial of a viscous liquid which he handed to the fox. “I keep this to use as a spell component, but it also doubles as a lube.”

The fox turned it over in his paws. “Ah, a grease spell. Sneaky, but effective for making an escape. After you then.”

Charexin climbed up onto the block of stone and got on his hands and knees. The altar was cold to his paws and unforgiving. “I assume this time I’m the bottom?” asked the wolf.

The fox hauled himself up. “Yes,” he said getting behind the wolf, kneeling on the stone. “I will say this is not a comfortable position.”

The wolf didn’t think being on the bottom was that great either, but he positioned himself, tail up, waiting for the fox to make the move. The air around them was completely still, the light coming from the braziers that threw long shadows across them.

“Ready?” Ibras asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we begin.” He cleared his throat and then intoned. “Oh great powers of old, we offer this sacrifice of seed, the white blood of life. From life shall come death, but from death shall come life.”

The air in the room was silent and they both held their breath.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” whispered the fox as he poured the lube onto himself and slicked himself up. He used the rest of the vial to slick up the wolf’s tailhole, slowly working it into him with one finger, then two fingers. Charexin shivered as Ibras did this, methodically pressing in the digits, careful not to scratch the wolf with his blunted claws. A sudden flick of one his nipples by a hand that wasn’t there told him Ibras had not lost his touch.

Soon enough, the digits were pulled out and the wolf felt something else being pressed against his rear. It had been a while since he’d had sex, years since he’d slept with the fox, but there was an old familiarity to it. The way Ibras lined himself up and slowly pushed in, it was different than the one-night stands Charexin had: it was gentle and not in a rush to get going.

The fox started slowly, pushing himself in and letting the wolf get comfortable before he pulled back. A paw gripped at his tail base as the fox slowly thrust into him before finally grabbing his hips. A third, invisible hand slowly stroked across his shaft.

Against the feeling of pleasure, it took Charexin a moment before he realized the stone he was on had begun to awaken. Gold light flicked out from the base of the altar, lighting the room.

“It’s responding to us,” grunted Charexin, as the fox thrust himself in again.

“I see,” panted the fox and he started to work up a rhythm. Each thrust came just a little bit faster and the wolf whined under him. Slowly the pace grew, the moans getting louder, and the light in the room brighter. Ibras’s magic faltered and the gentle invisible fingers teasing his shaft faded out. The fox was too preoccupied.

The stone thrummed under them, responding to the rhythm of Ibras’s thrusts. Charexin could feel the pressure building as the fox kept repeatedly pushing into him. He moaned, ears laid back as Ibras took him with increasingly urgency. The altar had become warm against him and it was not from his body heat. Energy coursed through it now, and he could feel it growing in power with the fox’s thrusts.

The wolf pressed himself back, arching his spine in pleasure as the fox slammed against him harder. The fox’s knot started to swell and Ibras wanted to make sure he tied with the wolf. Magic far different than the type they wielded was at work here, and even in his bliss, the fox knew he needed to complete the ritual as best he could. He whined in need, feeling the tension in his shaft build, the climax slowly coming to him.

Finally, it was too much, and the fox popped the knot into the wolf, forcing the tie and emptying himself into Charexin. Ibras then leaned over and bit at the wolfs shoulder as he filled him. The wolf felt the invisible digits close upon his shaft again and stroke him. That was too much for the wolf then, and he lost control, finally climaxing, hot seed coating the stone below.

The wolf’s legs gave out on him and they collapsed, still tied, panting against the stone, feeling the raw energy it contained as it crackled against their fur. In that moment, Charexin felt suddenly connected to the world. He was the dirt and the grass. He was the leaves in the trees. The crops growing in the fields swayed with the wind, and he could feel that wind against his branches. He and Ibras were one and together they were a part of the valley. The streams that crossed it ran through them like the blood in their bodies. Chaucer was the heart of the valley and in that instant the stones and the dirt were their flesh.

The valley was beautiful and they were beautiful. The wolf could feel Ibras as an extension of himself. It wasn’t just the other mage’s arcane power he felt but his heart his mind. They were linked in that moment like they had never been before and everything they had seen together, everything they had shared, it was there before them: their fights, their tender moments, the things they did to show they loved each other, and all the ways they had disappointed the other. The road they could have taken together unfurled in front of them like a banner being raised. They were a single entity unsure why it had ever quarreled with itself like this.

And as suddenly as the vision had started, it was gone, and the stone was still again, hard against the wolf with the fox on top of him. The light that filled the room only moments ago was gone, and they both gasped suddenly remember they still had to breath. For a moment or an eternity their bodies had become part of the stone, frozen in the act of copulation.

The fox shifted first, trying halfheartedly to tug his knot free. It only made the wolf more aware of the sticky puddle of his own seed he’d fallen into.

“Did you... did you feel that?” whispered Charexin.

“The vision?”

“Yeah. We were part of the valley there for a moment.”

The fox took a deep breath. “I was the grain ripening in the field, the stones in the earth. I could feel the wind across my leaves as I stood as the trees.”

All they could do was rest, dazed by the power they’d unleashed. They laid there joined until Ibras’s knot softened enough and he pulled out. The fox rolled over to lie on his back on top of the stone altar.

“Do you think that worked?” asked the fox.

“If that didn’t do it, I don’t know what would.”

“Yeah.” The fox yawned tiredly, tongue rolling out of his muzzle. “That still doesn’t help with you finding the Sunstone.”

The wolf propped himself up. “Are you sure we aren’t lying on top of it now?”

The fox didn’t say anything, just feeling the warmth the stone still was giving out. Finally, he spoke. “Upon the altar to the sky the Sunstone rests,” He quoted. “That would make this room the altar to the sky, but I always thought that would be at the top of a tower.”

“Me too, but what if this was an altar to the night sky?”

The fox got up and craned his neck looking toward the ceiling, He frowned and climbed down from the altar, walking over to pick up his staff. He then pointed it up at the ceiling, summoning light, but the ceiling showed no markings, no symbols carved upon it.

Naked, tail lashing in anticipation, he stalked between the columns until he came to the vestibule, and it was there a single symbol had been marked, above the door.

Charexin had also climbed down and he followed Ibras. He was messy and spent, trying not to drip onto the floor. The scents of their love making filled his nose, but he had to see what the fox was looking at. “That does seem understated at best,” he remarked, looking at the crescent moon glyph.

“It does.” The fox frowned, ears laying back. “I would expect stars or some kind.”

“There don’t seem to be any.”

After pondering for a minute, the fox reached up, craning his arm up and touched the moon with his paw. Suddenly the room lit up as thousands of little lights flashed in the ceiling of the room. A night sky shown above them.

“This really is it!” said the wolf turning around. “But it’s nothing like we thought it was. They always said the Sunstone was a weapon, something that could be wielded in battle.”

“You realize you can’t tell them you found it. If the college comes here looking for this, they’ll rip it out of the shrine, and who knows what they will do with it.”

The wolf looked at the fox and gave him a wiry smile. “This must go unrecorded. We aren’t the first to realize what is here could not be recorded for future scholars to find. My failure will be the same as those who searched before me.”

The fox took his hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You pieced together a mystery that I couldn’t solve on my own.”

The wolf leaned down and kissed the hand gently. “No Ibras, we did it, together. Neither of us could have done this alone.”

“You’re right,” he said squeezing gently, “but what will you do now?”

“I don’t know. I have to go back to the college and report I didn’t find anything. They’ll likely send me back to the Scriptorium to catalog rare books.”

“You could stay here,” suggested Ibras.

The wolf flicked his ears and turned to look back at the altar.

“Not for that,” said the fox hurriedly. “I miss you, and I’m sorry when I said you would never amount to much as a mage. I should have realized I was being foolish.”

Charexin was quiet, his tail still as he looked over the fox carefully. “I like what I do at the Scriptorium, but it’s not glamorous work,” he said finally. “It at least lets me use my talents well.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a vast library here, but I could use some help. There’s still a lot I don’t understand about this place.”

The wolf smiled. “I would be happy to stay and help you conduct more research, but not because of the Sunstone.”

“No? Why then.”

The wolf leaned down and whispered into the fox’s ear. “Because I’ve missed you too.”