Anders woke up on a strange cot. The walls were the same familiar stone of Whitethorn, and there were no windows. Groaning he tried to sit up but found he couldn't. Thick leather cuffs shackled his arms and tied him to the bed.

"Hello?" He called. No answer. He was alone in a room with nothing but a cot and a chair. He couldn't move, and his head hurt. Unfortunately they also knew not to chain him with metal. He moved his legs, those at least were free.

"You awake in there?" A banging on the door drew his attention. The clinking of keys told him he was locked inside even if he could struggle out of the bindings.

"The guardmaster wants to see you." Growled a soldier at his door. He stepped aside and in came the guardmaster himself.

"What possessed you to resist a soldier?" He posed it as a question, but it wasn't one. He stuck his hand out the door and someone placed a ledger in it. The guardmaster took a seat and began reading.

"Anders, fifteen, six feet zero inches. Dark hair, blue eyes. Element of lighting. Brought to Whitethorn at eight years of age." He stopped to eye the mark on Anders's neck. "Brown. No past disciplinary action required."

The ledger closed with a snap and the guardmaster watched Anders silently. He handed off the book to someone out the door and signaled to leave him alone. The door was closed, followed by more staring at Anders.

"Normally I would put you in the lower levels immediately, but you have a powerful friend on your side." He sneered. "I presume it was Magister ga Harleurngin you were trying to see at the gate, or at least he came to see you after your outburst."

"He's here?" Anders said hopeful. The guardmaster glared at him.

"Yes he's here boy, and he wishes to talk to you, though it goes against my better judgment. Now that you are awake he's been sent for." He stood and opened the door. "One more step and I'll make sure you don't see the light of day until after the tests are long gone."

He left and the door was promptly locked. The wait was long. At one point he began to think it was all a trick for his cooperation, that Harlow wasn't coming at all. He had no way to tell the time save for one lonely candle on a wall sconce overhead. He supposed if it went out a good amount of time would have passed, though how much was still unknown. Finally, soft footsteps drew his full attention.

"Is this the room?" Harlow's light northern accent drifted welcomingly under the door. The sound of keys was a symphony of pleasant music to Anders as the door creaked open.

"My goodness!" Harlow was wearing his same white coat and the same pleasant smile. "What happened my dear boy? I am told you have been asking for me."

"Harlow, I'm so glad you're here." Anders breathed. "Something is wrong with the mages, the weak ones. Have you heard?"

"Yes, I've just heard of the sickness." He blinked. "You are unaffected it would seem, correct?"

"Yes I am, but I don't think it's a sickness at all. Your lenses, look through your lenses and you'll see. Their power is being drained." Anders strained against his bindings.

"That is quite a hypothesis. What lead you to this conclusion?" Harlow began patting down the pockets of his coat.

"I don't know if you'll believe me, but I have a fairly strange story behind it." Anders took a calming breath. "The short version is I'm working with a thief who regularly breaks into Whitethorn and we're looking for the mage who authored a journal of work involving life and death magic. I'll bet my freedom that mage is now draining the mages of the keep to power his spells."

"That is a big accusation against one of your peers my boy." Harlow said quietly. "If you are right, I need to investigate the trail immediately."

"Yes please." Anders begged. "Save the mages before any more die."

"Die?" Harlow scowled darkly. "They neglected to include mention of any deaths in the report to my comrades and I. That is a problem for another time, first let's get you out of here."

Harlow opened the door and had the guard untie Anders. His wrists were somewhat sore, but nothing like his head. Standing too fast, he was a bit dizzy for a moment, and Harlow steadied him.

"My bag." Anders touched his side where he had been keeping his device all week.

"Where are the possessions of this boy from when you apprehended him?" Harlow asked.

"Here Magister, but there's something funny in it. It knocked my partner out cold when he touched it. He still ain't awake." The soldier handed Harlow the leather bag carefully.

"Anders?" Harlow looked up at him.

"My invention, I found my notes. It's a storage device for lightning magic, don't touch it I haven't made a case for it yet." Anders took the bag from the little scholar.

"Fascinating!" He marveled for a moment. "But that a conversation for next week. Right now we must get to the mages!"

They walked up to the second floor as fast as Harlow's legs could carry him. Anders waited at the door while Harlow went into the bigger sick room and began looking at the mages lying in pain on the floor. Anders fidgeted nervously while he watched Harlow slowly wind through the room. He eventually took his lenses off his nose and came back to Anders.

"You might be right boy, but all of the magic is fading straight into the air! I see no method to the path it takes, it simply winds to the sky and vanishes after a few feet." Harlow cleaned his lenses with his coat sleeve and put them in a pocket again. "Now, I think it is time for you to tell me the longer version of your story."

"Should we do this somewhere else?" Anders murmured, not wanting to panic anyone in the sick room.

"Yes, privacy. I do not want to bring this to the guardmaster yet. Let's speak in your rooms, we can guarantee no audience is waiting in that hallway." Harlow walked towards the nearest staircase.

"Right." Anders followed, sorting his thoughts. This was going to be quite a tale to tell, he just hoped it ended better than it began.