~ Fourth Movement – Finale ~
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Two figures stood in the semi-darkness, focused so intently on their tasks that they did not seem to notice the shadows that crept and stalked about them. Four more were scattered about in varying stages of slumber, propped up against whatever makeshift bedding they could scrounge in the underground chamber. No words were exchanged, and aside from the occasional sigh and the ever-present background hum of the glowing crystals in the centre of the room, the silence was absolute.
Every now and again the larger figure would rush over to the smaller, to exchange hurried words under their breaths or to scribble something on a pad of parchment. Every now and again the smaller figure would toss aside her equations and calculations and start anew, renewing her efforts on a blank fresh slate. The process of scientific endeavour was a slow and unrewarding one, fraught with dead ends and red herrings. The thin sliver of chance separating success from failure was the ability to sift through the irrelevant information to find the one piece of data that truly mattered, and here the two women were being tested to their absolute limits. The cluttered stack of surplus notes abandoned upon the cool stone floor was unspoken testament to the long battle they had fought so far.
The following excerpts are extracted from that discarded pile of tattered parchment, cured skins adorned with spidery script and barely intelligible figures scattered without structure across the cluttered sheets. There is neither order nor sensibility in how the writings are organised, writings that only a genius – or a madman – can interpret. Within the mess of Common scrawled in a rough Dwarven hand, however, there are yet some passages remotely discernible…
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The girl's got a mind sharper than my axe! Sure, it helps that she's got a better feel than I do for Elven magic, and she sure ain't much to look at, but in twelve hours with her I've found out more about the crystals than in twelve weeks locked in here alone. Not that I had much choice, mind what with the siege and all...
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As I suspected, the crystals are integrated into a network that extends throughout the castle like some Elf-made blood system. What for, though? There's no sign of any engines anywhere, and the girl says she can' interpret dormant Elven sigils well enough to determine their purpose... given enough time, Amarie might, but that dratted Bard is asleep again...
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Thirty-six hours now, and still no real progress. Amarie's taken Eldalote to try to decipher those blasted sigils. Earane's keeping a watch on the enemy to give us some sort of warning if anything does happen, for all the good that it'll do us. Nimloth and Elenwe are about as useful as piles of scrap metal. That leaves the girl, and myself.
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Repeated references to something called “Jashak-lad”. No idea what it means, although I'm told it translates roughly as “magnessar field”...
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The girl's slept only five hours in the last two days. I know only because I've been awake longer. Don't know why I'm writing this, although it could be because there's nothing else to write?
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Breakthrough! Earane managed to trace the mana network to a small chamber off one of the abandoned underground networks. There's enough in there to make my head spin. It looks like a control centre of sorts. Don't know how I missed it before. Maybe now I can finally begin to work out how this blooming thing actually works.
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... or not. It was a control centre all right, but not the one I was looking for. Judging by the markings on the walls, it was for some sort of defence mechanism, which I doubt was any good when faced with a meteor. Back to square one again... how did this castle move?
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Nearly sixty hours now since the human girl arrived. No progress, although at least Elenwe's making herself useful by bringing food, blankets, and hot beverages. An improvement, at least, from scrap metal.
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Okay, recap time. I know that the castle wasn't built here... evidence of destructive impact in the rock strata, build-up of sediment and weathering around the foundations, all sorts of geological and constructive anomalies that scream 'wrong!' to my Dwarven intuition. The only reachable conclusion is that it was brought here somehow, but that would mean by air, since there's no other option. Ancestral myths about 'flying fortresses' and 'castles in the clouds' only reinforce this theory. It's as if some massive winged beast picked up the castle and deposited it here, although knowing the Elves it's probably a bit more arcane that that... as my old mentor used to say, if you rule out all the impossibles, anything that's left, no matter how improbably, must be a possibility...
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Recap part two. I've thoroughly searched every inch of underground passageway, and I'm relatively sure that the only major anomaly is these mana crystals. Conversely, the mana crystals are the only unknown factor remotely capable of powering such a feat as causing this stone behemoth to fly. Their very presence here is something that piques my interest. Call it scholarly intuition. They seem to be at the heart of an intricate network of circuits that channel the energy they produce throughout the entire underground structure, but although there are what seem to be activation controls, there's nothing here to indicate what this activation would do, or how to control its effects. And I'd much rather not resort to simply flipping the switch to see what happens... such science is simply a recipe for disaster...
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In the end, though, we might have to resort to just that. The girl and I are getting nowhere, and Amarie says she's getting this foreboding tingling sensation whenever she concentrates on Timbrethinil. I've got a very, very bad feeling about all this...
Six figures were scattered about the semi-darkness in varying stages of slumber, propped up against whatever makeshift bedding they could scrounge in the underground chamber. Aside from the occasional Dwarven snore and the ever-present background hum of the glowing crystals in the centre of the room, the silence was absolute. Only the clock kept ticking, relentless and without regard for their mortal needs…