He felt that strongly and deep inside himself, though Laric wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so passionately about it. Even though it was his grandmother’s space, she had abandoned it, leaving it to him. But it was the only thing he had left of her, and the only way that he thought he would be able to remember her.
Sashaak had already taken away the glyphs that had been here. But then, considering what Sashaak had claimed, maybe the glyphs did not belong to his grandmother—or Laric—anyway.
“It keeps getting more and more interesting.” The man swept his gaze around the chamber. “I imagine there was more here at one time?”
Laric said nothing.
“Where did it go?” Now the man’s tone had a real hardness to it.
“Where did what go?” Laric asked.
The man chuckled softly. “A little steel to your spine. That is useful, especially if you can learn to use it. I’m going to ask you one more time. Where did it go?”
“I didn’t damage anything here. I wouldn’t. This was my grandmother’s place, and I wouldn’t do anything to harm her memory.”
The man did… something. Laric wasn’t quite sure what it was, only that he began to feel something tugging inside him. It was almost as if he was tugging on Laric’s potential in some way. When he did, there was a strange, fluttering surge of power that coursed through him, a reaction to what the man was doing.
Then he felt the ground flow with a bit of heat. It was an unusual use of fire, as it wasn’t necessarily a weapon so much as it was merely a way of trying to spread heat down on the ground. To influence. From there, Laric could make out some of that influence and the way it was spreading, and he could make out just what this was intended to do.
He wondered if he could influence it, feeling that power as it flowed.
Gradually, a series of golden, glowing glyphs began to form all over the floor. It was as if someone had traced what had been there before. Laric knew with a startling certainty that these were similar to, if not the same as, the glyphs that had been here in the past.
“The memory exists,” the man said, but he wasn’t saying it to Laric. “They haven’t destroyed that.”
“I told you, I wasn’t going to destroy anything.”
“Only remove them. Why?” The man approached Laric, and now there was a real edge to him. Laric took an involuntary step back, alarmed by the speed with which the man came at him. “Like I said, a little steel in your spine. But useless.”
“What are you doing here?” Laric asked.
“I am trying to figure out why someone would have destroyed Imelda’s glyphs.”
Everything within Laric went cold. The man knew his grandmother.
“How do you know her name?”
The man had turned away from Laric, almost as if dismissing him. He had his back to Laric, yet even so, Laric had the distinct sense that the man was paying attention to him, and fully aware of the power that was coming. Laric recognized that energy, and he didn’t know if there was any way he could get closer to the man, or better yet, any way that he would want to. It felt to him as if it might be simply too dangerous to do, as he had no idea whether this man would pose a challenge for him.
But what he wanted, more than anything, was a better understanding of what the man was doing. These glyphs had returned, though they were faded. A memory, much like the man claimed. He knew Laric’s grandmother’s name.
This wasn’t a mage.
Finally, the man looked back at him. “You didn’t leave. I thought you were going to try to step through the portal, and I was looking forward to your surprise when you saw that it wasn’t where you thought it would be.”
“Where would it take me?” Laric asked.
“Far from here,” the man said, a hint of a smile curling his lips.
“Who are you?”
The man frowned at him, then he turned and swept his hand out in front of him, allowing those glyphs to flutter. He seemed to concentrate on them, trying to make sense of just what it was that he saw there, before turning back to Laric.
“Why, I’m Imelda’s son.”
Laric blinked. Everything seemed to be a little too much for him at the moment. “Which means that I’m your nephew?”
Chapter Twenty-One
After having gone as long as Laric had without knowing much about his grandmother, the idea that someone would appear who could share with him the truth of her was surprisingly strange—and disconcerting. Not only that, but Laric had a peculiar feeling from this man. He couldn’t quite describe it.
“You don’t say,” the man said. He watched Laric, a hint of either irritation or amusement lingering in his eyes—it was difficult for Laric to tell which. “How am I supposed to know if you’re telling me the truth? You have a bit of talent, but it’s raw. I was not expecting to find anything like that here. Truth be told, I was not expecting to find anything like that anywhere near these lands.”
“You said you were related to Imelda,” Laric said.
The man left the smoke swirling thickly. At this point, it became clear to Laric that it was the man who was responsible for the continued smoke, not him. As far as he could tell, he wasn’t holding any of the potential any longer.
“That is what I said,” the man said.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Laric asked.
He raised a brow in amusement. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You’re in my space.”
“From what you’re telling me. And I’m trying to ascertain if you are responsible for what happened here. There is a missing element, and unfortunately, I do not know if what you’ve done has taken from what should still be here.”
The fact that the man was able to detect that something was missing intrigued Laric. That and the fact that not only did he know things about glyphs, but it seemed as if he knew things about Laric’s grandmother. He needed to understand her and where she came from, so he tried a different approach.
