Chapter Text
Gilmore didn’t know how long he lay on the floor of the conservatory. At some point, the door banged open and the sound of running footsteps approached. “Master Gilmore! Master Gilmore, are you alright?” Sherri knelt down next to him, peering into his face to make sure he was alive. Then she felt his forehead. “You disappeared! No one knew where you’d gone. We couldn’t even find you by scrying! Sir, it’s been days!”
“Days?” Gilmore croaked. Damn the Feywild. What an evil place. “Where’s Kima? Allura?” He let Sherri help him to a sitting position.
“They left, Master Gilmore. After you disappeared, we all feared the worst.” She leaned forward to hug him. “The Arcanist said the barrier couldn’t wait any longer. Then Allie, Kima, and Master Thunderbrand left to get more information on the green dragon.”
Gilmore frowned. “Who cast the barrier?” How had they managed to cast it without him? And who was maintaining it if Allura had left the city?
“The Arcanist and Master Thunderbrand cast it with the Realmseer,” Sherri said. “It took some doing...none of them are as powerful as you, Sir.”
“I’m not certain I agree with that…” Gilmore began. But maybe this was for the best. If they’d managed to cast it without him, maybe Gilmore could rest a little after his close call with the archfey. Not to mention warn Vox Machina that they were being stalked by said archfey.
“Master Gilmore, what happened?” Sherri asked, watching him closely. “Where have you been for the last two days?”
“You do not want to know,” he told her, using his cane to rise unsteadily to his feet. There was a ringing in his ears, and all Gilmore really wanted to do was lie down. But now that he was safe, it was probably best to make sure everything in Whitestone was as it should be. A lot could happen in two days. Clearly.
Sherri hovered at his elbow as Gilmore made his way through the house, in case he should need help. “What can I do, Sir?”
“Something to eat, perhaps.” Gilmore could not recall the last time he’d had a proper meal.
“Yes, Sir.” Sherri led him to the kitchen.
“But everything has been alright since I’ve been gone?” Gilmore asked. “No more ghosts? No more demons?”
“Everyone was very worried about you,” Sherri said. “When all of our scrying attempts were blocked, the council took it as a sign of an imminent attack. Besides putting up the barrier, the council told Jarett to build an army.”
Gilmore blinked. “What?” Surely they hadn’t done all of that because of him. It did seem to disprove Garmelie’s argument most spectacularly.
“I was surprised, too,” Sherri said. “Everything’s been fine in Whitestone, but the council shifted into high alert when you disappeared so soon after the attacks by the demon and Lord Briarwood’s ghost. Cassie didn’t want to take any chances.” She paused with a cup in her hand. “Oh, I really should tell her you’re back. And General Howarth. He was so upset.”
“He was?” Gilmore asked, not too tired to hear he’d been missed by someone he cared about.
“Oh yes.” Sherri nodded, putting the cup down on the counter. “When they told him he was in charge of building an army and finding allies outside of Whitestone, he told the council to fuck themselves.” Gilmore’s eyes widened. “He took it back, though. Honestly, I think it’s been a good distraction for him. He hasn’t slept since he found out you were gone.”
Gilmore put a hand over his heart. “If you’re sending word to Cassandra, will you tell him, too?”
“Of course,” Sherri said. “But what will you be doing?”
Gilmore sighed, withdrawing the arcane parchment from his sleeve. “I’ve got to warn Vox Machina that they’re in serious danger.”
Sherri put a hand on her hip. “Aren’t they always in serious danger?”
Gilmore shook his head. “Not like this.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Sherri asked him. Gilmore merely nodded. She bent and kissed his forehead before setting off for the castle.
Alone in the kitchen, Gilmore put one hand on the kettle to heat the water and composed his message with the other.
My Love,
I must warn you. The faun Garmelie is a very old, very dangerous fey in disguise. Do not trust him. Do not keep his company. Do not accept any more of his bargains! Please return home as soon as you can. It’s no longer safe for me to visit you. Not in the Feywild.
After he sent it, Gilmore tried to scry and see if Vax had gotten his message, but he found himself unable to do so. Damn the Feywild! Finally, he decided to incant the arcane paper to heat up so that it got Vax’ildan’s attention if he had not yet read it. For now, that was all he could do.
Having made tea, Gilmore was preparing to draw a bath in order to relax when he heard a scratching sound on the table behind him. He turned to see words slashing themselves into his parchment with bold, broad strokes.
That’s not a very nice thing to say. Gilmore.
He shakily grabbed onto the door frame to steady himself. Gilmore hadn’t known the archfey could overtake his communication spell, all the way from the fey plane, no less. He snatched up the parchment and locked it away in an insulated safe where Garmelie would not be able to use it to scry on him. And for the first time, Gilmore wished he had gone by the name Shaun, instead.
After he’d had time to calm down, Gilmore realized that the ringing wasn’t inside his head, but coming from outside the house. He opened his front door to look out at the wintry Whitestone morning. The sun was dim this far north, but Gilmore stepped outside just the same, wanting to feel it on his cheeks. He’d come so close to losing his freedom. It was not a comfortable feeling.
Once he was outside, standing in the front garden, the ringing became more clear. It wasn’t a noise so much as a throbbing in the earth. The leylines were pulsing, like veins fighting a heart attack. Gilmore followed them to the market square, where it felt most intense under the sun tree. Even the townsfolk were avoiding the spot. When he looked up, the barrier was throbbing as well, and Gilmore thought he knew why.
He reached out and grabbed the arm of the nearest villager. “Send to the castle for Lady Pike. Have her meet me at the Realmseer’s as soon as possible.” Gilmore pressed a gold piece into the person’s hand and took off for Eskil’s at a fast jog; he was far too tired to run.
When Gilmore arrived, the Realmseer’s entire house was shaking. It was a wonder none of his neighbors had reported it. Perhaps they were too wary of mages to mention it to anyone. Gilmore found Eskil--or what was left of him--on the floor of his library. The barrier spell was stripping his flesh from his bones by alternate throbbing beats, the Realmseer’s lipless jaws working to recite the incantation that was keeping him alive, but only just. It had been so long since Gilmore had rested, he had little more left than a Lay on Hands to help save the old mage’s life.
Gilmore knelt on the floor beside him, trying to rein in the wild magic as he cast his heal. He took the leyline between his fingers and very gently pulled, channeling the spell through himself, drawing the eye of the needle away from Eskil gradually, so that the spell would hold and the Realmseer would not go into shock.
How the three of them had thought they could cast the barrier without him was beyond Gilmore. Well, if they had assumed they had no choice, imagining him kidnapped or dead… Still, Drake Thunderbrand was an elementalist. His skill was to paint in broad strokes, to sculpt elemental forces, not hone fine details of arcana. He was no substitute for an artisan like Gilmore. They must have been convinced Gilmore was truly gone.
When the spell finally settled on his shoulders, Gilmore could feel the rough miscast of it. It would take days to fix the flaws in their hurried casting, and Gilmore was not certain he would survive that long. The barrier began to eat away at his life force faster than he could feed it power from the node beneath the sun tree. It would have been painful if Gilmore had been fully rested with all of his spells at his disposal, and he was currently neither of those things.
Through the haze of pain, he looked over at Eskil, who now lay on the floor, unconscious. At least the sallow flesh had returned to him, and he was breathing, if shallow. Gilmore stayed where he was, afraid to risk losing his grip on the spell or incurring more pain if he attempted to move.
He did not know how long he had been kneeling there when Gilmore began to grow very tired, his head sagging toward the floor. Someone was calling him from far away, but he couldn’t quite make out their voice.
*
“There he is!” Pike cried out, pointing toward the workroom that looked like the one in the tower where they’d first met the Realmseer. Jarett’s legs were longer than hers, and he sprinted forward to catch Gilmore as he fainted. Pike gripped her pendant and cast Heal, feeling the arcane magic using Gilmore in a way that she didn’t think spells were supposed to do.
“Is he dead?” Sherri asked, looking dubiously down at the Realmseer.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” Pike said. “But someone should probably pick him up off the floor and get him warm.”
“I know a good cantrip,” Sherri said, lifting the old mage using Telekinesis and floating him over to one of the large reading chairs by the fireplace.
“What about my lord?” Jarett asked, holding Gilmore’s head so that it would not fall back.
“I just have to figure out a way to fix this spell,” Pike said, thinking hard.
“You are a mage as well?” Jarett asked.
Pike’s brow furrowed. “No, but it’s eating him up, and I feel like that’s something I should be able to fix.”
“Then dispel it!” Jarett said. “Such a spell is evil! We will find another way to protect the city.”
“Please,” Pike said, trying to be patient in the face of his panic. “Just give me a few minutes to pray. I can do this.”
Sherri looked back from having settled the Realmseer as comfortably as she could in his reading chair. “I’m going to the temple to get more healers,” she said. “You should be able to concentrate on Master Gilmore, but I don’t think Master Eskil will survive much longer without a cleric.” Jarett looked away from Gilmore just long enough to nod his understanding.
*
When Gilmore woke up, Eskil’s library was much more crowded than he remembered. He also did not recall having lost consciousness. Gilmore groaned. His head was pounding, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “He’s awake!” he heard Jarett say.
“Jarett?” A stubbled face pressed against Gilmore’s cheeks, kissing him over and over again. He realized he was being held in someone’s arms. When Gilmore opened his eyes, he was not surprised to see that someone was Jarett.
“Praise god!” Jarett said. “I thought we had lost you twice in one week, which is too many times for my heart to bear, my lord. Two too many.” He kissed Gilmore’s cheek again.
“How are you feeling?” A sunny disposition incarnate that could only be Pike leaned into Gilmore’s field of vision.
“Better,” Gilmore croaked. He stopped to see if the barrier spell had held. It felt quite different now, but not in a bad way, and it was still active. “How did you do that?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Pike blushed. “But Sherri helped.” She glanced behind her.
“I just pointed out a few things someone who’s not a mage might not see,” he heard Sherri say somewhere close by. “I’m not sure I could have done it without the special lesson on Allura’s sigil you requested for me, Master Gilmore. But really, it was nothing.”
“It was something,” Pike insisted. “Hi-five, partner.”
“Thank you all,” Gilmore said. “And the Realmseer?”
“They took him to the temple,” Pike said. “But he should recover.”
“Good to hear.” He would not have wanted to be the one to tell Allura her casting had resulted in the death of one of her teachers.
“Let’s get you home,” Pike said. “I think we have some planning to do if this barrier’s going to hold up until we kill all the dragons.”
Gilmore winced. “Do you have pain, my lord?” Jarett asked in Common, so Pike could help if he needed it.
“Nothing as bad as before,” Gilmore said. “But I would love a little rest. And some tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I think we can manage that,” Pike said, smiling at Sherri and Jarett.
“Anything my lord needs,” Jarett said.
“It’s our job to take care of you,” Sherri chimed in.
“Is that so?” Gilmore asked with the quirk of one expressive eyebrow.
“It is now,” Pike smiled. And Gilmore felt very fortunate indeed. Both that he’d survived his encounter with the archfey and that he was surrounded by such kind, caring friends. Who had, in fact, noticed his absence and missed him. He was still worried about Vox Machina, but for now, he would have to pray that their inexplicable good luck held.