They returned to the Akademi der Luftsmagiker without further incident, though they jumped at every shadow. Or, at any rate, Einar and Lilja did. Sif wasn’t about to try to jump given the battering she’d taken. When they arrived, Einar … Continue reading →

“I’ll live,” Sif replied, sitting straighter. Against her better judgment, she stood slowly. Lilja rushed to her side to help her up, bracing her as she swayed. “There’s Einar,” she said. Lilja half-turned. Einar strode up to them, wearing a … Continue reading →

Sif thanked the Twelve that Leifsson had gotten around to teaching resonances. Magnus Trollkarl’s books made reference to the technique but gave few hints on employing it, and her own experimentation had been fruitless. Without it, she certainly couldn’t have … Continue reading →

“Illusions,” said Lilja. “Interesting.” Sif nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t believe illusionism doesn’t have a guild of its own. You can do so much.” “It’s less about how useful it is,” Einar said, “and more about how bad it is for … Continue reading →

The trio ascended the stairs up to the entrance, then entered through massive wooden double doors which swung smoothly and silently on their hinges. The outer face of each door bore carvings, ælfish symbols and runes alike. To a magiker, … Continue reading →

Sif quick-stepped up the spiral stairs to her room, past the main hall. For the first few weeks, the climb had winded her. Now she barely noticed. She grabbed a pair of books, stacked on the end of her bed, … Continue reading →

Sif blinked. The answer seemed self-evident to her, which in her recent experience meant she was thinking about the wrong question. She was cold because it was cold—she was surrounded by cold air. Not as cold as it could be, … Continue reading →

They moved on to other topics as they ate. Einar Goransson was the son of a caravaner from the central plains, and had grown up on the roads, tenuous tracks carved from the wilderness, which linked the far-flung cities of … Continue reading →